Dec 23, 2012

The Mother

The Eucharist of The Mother

There were three who spoke the words,
This is my body,
broken for you.”

Last night I couldn’t sleep
for the throbbing of my hips.
They expand to make room
for the infant within.
Belly taught and stretching,
aching back, and sore feet.
Did you know a woman’s heart
moves over to accommodate
the organs displaced
by the growing baby?
Did you know her body pumps
twice the amount of blood
of a regular woman
for the duration of her pregnancy?

The Mother is the first vessel
of the Eucharist.

The creative heat
of sweat and seed,
the consumed consumer,
the fruit of two lovers gives way
to 10 months of carrying,
waiting and finally breaking.

The first lesson is:
it takes a lot of waiting
to grow what God plants inside you,
and in order to birth it
you must suffer a breaking open.
The labor will be long,
painful…
And it will be messy,
(theology can try, but it can’t dismiss blood and water, and the mess
of being divinely human)
It must,and shall,
rip you apart.

But what mother would not endure
this wrenching open
for the joy of finally holding
the sacred creation?
And, what mother would not choose
a greater suffering than this
if she could but spare her son
from pain?

I saw my boy run toward me
carefree,
his golden hair flying behind his
smiling face
and in one instant ,
tripping over himself,
he fell…
his mouth hitting
the cruel corner of a metal chair.
Time played tricks as he fell:
I knew his danger,
and an impending injury,
but was powerless to stop it.

Later that night, returned from the ER,
my son asleep in his bed,
I rubbed my knuckles raw
scrubbing his blood out of our clothes.
The anguish was just as poignant
when I watched the dirty brown water
disappear down the drain,
even though I knew he was alright;
For it was his blood and water that was
draining,
And his blood is my blood,
our blood…
shed for you“.

How many more times did The Mother
watch The Creation’s life slip away?
It was not just his death.
She must have sensed the impending danger,
must have guessed where he was
headed,
and yet,
She was asked to stand at the kitchen
sink, and watch the brown water slip away.

And in His death,
do not doubt for a second,
that she received each blow,
each laceration,
each cut,
each piercing,
and choked for air
as she watched herself die.

His, Her final death.
Her ultimate sacrifice,
and surrender.

This is the example of The Mother:
To accept this body is not my own
and in such willingness
as to carry the seed to term,
even knowing that it will break me apart.
Trusting the breaking in order to withhold
the joy of the creation
while never seeking to posses it,
ever choosing to release it,
and surrendering
again, and again,
even in death.

Do this in remembrance of me.”

by: Brie Stoner 

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