When I think of women’s place, I think
not so much of place, but of women’s gifts.
Sr. Wanda Wetli
When I remember Luke’s story of young Mary’s urgent
hundred-mile journey from Nazareth to the hill country
of Judea to visit Elizabeth her cousin, each woman
carrying in her womb the mystery of birth that comes
forth from darkness, its velvety covering as light as the
breath of a candle aglimmer with the impossible: life
leaping in barren Elizabeth’s womb beyond birth-giving
years and Mary with child, her maiden body known
but to the Holy Power that overcame her – I pause and
listen with the ear of my heart.
And I remember Mary’s song of praise – her voice
ringing out like a bell swung – the Magnificat sung again
and again through the centuries, and I am filled with
wonder as I echo Mary’s question, “How can this be?”
Two women – cousins – favored to bring forth new life
promised by Holy messengers borne on wings: a story
incredible. In this season of this year in this place of
deepening darkness am I willing to trust this canticle of
caring and mystical connection sung in celebration of
Providential promise of One who will lift up the fallen,
deliver justice and mercy, bestow compassion and grace
on the humble and the lowly in things?
And as I listen, I hear the beauty of the promise flowing
as music flows as if on a silvery ribbon of sound celestial
celebrating the mystery of new beginnings given again
and again to all creatures in all places across creation
and I am reawakened in a woman’s way of knowing –
heart, body, mind – a kinship of trusting, waiting in the
Hopen space of unknowing between promise and the birth
of love come forth from darkness again.
Shared by Margie Dimoplon
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