Friday, March 1, 2024

She Remained

Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home. – John 19:25-27

I’ve stopped, started, and thrown out this devotion so many times this week. Nothing seems to come out insightful or meaningful these days. It’s pretty representative of this phase of my life. Welcoming a fourth baby into our family this fall has been everything you think it is – wonderful, amazing, insane, chaotic, sleepy, joyful – and so many more things. My office is now sprinkled with pack-n-plays, nursing pillows, and burp cloths. My house is never as clean as I want it to be.

My first two weeks back to work were littered with snow days, sick kids, and a federal holiday. Sometimes it feels like, no wonder Jesus’ twelve disciples were all men. By the time a mom got everyone ready to trek to the seashore or to a last supper, someone would need a snack or a diaper change or have a temperature of 103.

All jokes aside, we know that women played a variety of important roles in Jesus’ ministry. If only modern women saw themselves as Jesus sees them. We keep ourselves, our families, and our households running, yet somehow our inner shame tells us we’re not good enough. Our brains in mom-mode seem like an endless loop of “I am woman, hear me roar!” and whatever shame story we’re telling ourselves that day.

I’ve been thinking about the women in Jesus’ circle a lot the last four months, mostly his mother, Mary. I’ve prayed to her in times of postpartum distress and thanked her for her courage when days felt hard to get through. As moms we sacrifice a lot of things, but Mary had to stand and watch as her son made the ultimate sacrifice, his life, for our sins.

I think about Mary at her dying son’s feet. He was suffering in his physical body and she, undoubtedly, was suffering in her soul. And yet, she remained.

So, when days as a modern woman and mother feel hard to get through, I think of Mary’s “hear me roar” strength. I ask God for that same trust in Jesus and peace of mind and heart. After all, she watched her son give his life, so I could give my sons and daughters life. And who else can do that but a mother?

Emily Bianchi