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A Mother's First Easter

  Someone asked me last week if my life has changed being a mother. I responded rather flippantly with something like, "I understand more sleepless nights and perhaps shorter patience." But, this week has caused me to look a bit more introspective.
  This Holy week was too reminiscent of the last, at least of me not being at Mass celebrating the Triduum, the 3 most holy days of our liturgical calendar. But, last year, Covid was beginning to take over the world, and unbeknownst to anyone but me, at least what I thought to be true, I was pregnant. 
  Here we are, a year later, baby Owen almost 4 months old and Covid finally getting more under control thanks to those of us who take things seriously. 
  But, what has changed since I became a mother? I understand a little more now Abraham's sorrow and fear when he led Isaac up the mountain to sacrifice him. I understand a little more now the pure happiness that showed on the face of the prodigal son's father. I understand a little more now the determination Hagar felt toward Abraham taking care of Ishmael. 
  Just a modicum of understanding do I now have. Motherhood, a word I can't completely understand but I am trying. 
  This week, I have been wracked with the image of Mary as she held her slain son at the foot of the cross after he was let down. What would I feel?  After 4 months, I find tears when I think of the pain and heartache I would feel if someone hurt my son. Imagine after 33 years and the world beat and betrayed my son. I. Would. Be. Destroyed. 
  Easter. What does it mean? 
  It means hope. It means that when that young girl gave birth to that little boy she held him knowing he was meant for a greater purpose and that purpose was freeing the world. 
  It means forgiveness. It means that when that young girl understood her son was meant to suffer excruciating pain she had to forgive the world for they knew not what they did. 
  It means love. That those sleepless nights that I take for granted she took another moment with her son... the savior.
  I don't know, yet, what my Savior has in store for my son, but I know that when I say to him,  "Sleep with the angels and rise with the saints," it is my duty to help him become saintly and show him a true picture of the suffering, death, and resurrection of our Lord. 
  This Easter as a new mother has been truly eye-opening. I will do my best to not take for granted the pure miracle that is Owen...but moment by moment call to mind the greatest sacrifice that those who have come before me have given. 
  I have been granted a life that I don't deserve, and I swear to breathe life back into my miracle as much as I can. 
  May we all understand a little more the sacrifice of parenthood...and may I live up to the calling that it is.
  Happy Easter, dear friends.


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