Joy Of All Who Sorrow

From my front entranceway, I can see her and am comforted. On her back, a sticker marked $1 remains; a vestige of the symphony's "Second Fiddle" sale from which she was rescued. Like pictures of a beloved family member, her image is pervasive and can be found in nearly every room of our home. I cannot recollect when I began to honor her, to love her, but each night as I lay in bed I pray that she will cover my home, my husband, my children, and protect us from all visible and invisible enemies. Throughout the week, I ask that she will help me as a mother to raise my children to be "earthly angels and heavenly men." In moments of desperation, I plead for her help and intercessions.

The last twenty-four hours have been fraught with bad news arriving on multiple fronts from individuals whom I love dearly, friends who have been wounded by life's circumstances. I want to erase their grief, their pain, their fear, ease their anxieties and offer them hope and healing. I want to rush in - clean their houses, make them dinners, just sit with them and make everything all right. But for right now I cannot. And so I turn once again to the one, chosen to carry God in her womb, the mother who understands the grief that cuts, as well as all our sorrows because she has experienced them first-hand while she watched her Son - He who hung the world upon the waters and fashioned all of creation - hang on a cross. And I pray for you my precious friends.

"Desiring to save the human race from the deception of the enemy, the Lord Who loveth mankind gave thee, His Mother, as a help to mortals, saying: 'Behold, let My Mother be a protection and refuge for you, consolation for the grieving, joy for the sorrowful, and a helper for the oppressed...'"