I think the worst piece to write about is when you’re brimming with emotions and anxiety, and say nothing. I have nothing to say. Ask my dear friends Karen and Gaye. The moment I open my mouth, the better part of me shuts it up. I am all out of wisdom. I have neither descriptors nor action words to express myself.
I think the hardest requirement of faith is cheerfulness. I’m worried to the brim. It's beginning to show in creases between my eyes, a downward curl on lips, and a sigh that sounds more like a gasp. How did Mary maintain her cheerfulness when the angel Gabriel told her that she will be with child—the son of God at that, and not go crazy of all its legal implications? How do you find joy when the world seems to tip favorably on stressful situations and math just doesn’t apply?
Mary kept it in her heart.
I write about it...but only to gesture to Our Lady who watched her Son gallivanting with sinners, getting Himself in all sorts of trouble, potty trained, breastfed, and loved her boy to pieces.
