Sing To Me, Mama

Thanks to Melanie Bettinelli for suggesting this painting as an inspiration.

You’ll find her invitation here. Feel free to contribute a poem anytime.

as I pretend to sleep,
bound in softest cloth
drown in milky broth
helpless in your arms.
Remember me like this, Mama
now and at the end.
Jesu . . . Jesu . . . I treasure you.

Greet me like the one you've
always known somehow,
hide me safe for now
though they come for me.
Soothe me with your song, Mama
as I pretend to sleep.
Jesu . . . Jesu . . . I treasure you.
--After Luke 2:19

Ever since I first saw it, I have loved this painting for the way it captures the early hours between mother and babe. In this mother’s face (most agree she is Mary), I recognize my own postpartum bewilderment—how I left my old life behind and was reborn into immense beauty. A world that I had done nothing to earn or deserve.

I also remember the sorrow and fear I felt then—and feel more urgently now—knowing how dangerous and cruel our world has become for innocent ones, especially children.

I have always had an overwhelming need to protect others. This need is why I became a nurse, and then a mother, and then a nurse again; so I can have a clear way to help. Most days I’m able to do some small, concrete acts of advocacy and healing. Being of service comforts me, too.

I believe we each have a vocation that can be hard to hear.

Mine is a shy thing, arising from the periphery. Never planned or forced, but plainly obvious when I finally notice it. The calling is ongoing and shifts, so I keep listening for it.

Sometimes sitting with a work of art or piece of music helps me listen to what I’ve come to know as the Holy Spirit speaking quietly into the day. I rest in beauty like this, however briefly, to remember how it feels to be overwhelmed by love.

May you find a quiet place where your heart can stay tender, held between heartbreak and miracle, tragedy and gift.

xo Ann