I’m writing this reflection after a recent conversation with my brother who’s left the Catholic Church. Hearing more about his personal experiences, I totally understand why he feels he can no longer practice the religion and the sacraments I can’t imagine my life without. That said, the most difficult part of our conversation was hearing that he really couldn’t remember a time he felt a deep connection with God through the sacraments or any Catholic practice outside of it being an obligation that he would be punished for not fulfilling. I could write books about the spiritual experiences I have been spoiled to have; in fact, they’re often the subject of poetry I write.
I can almost physically recall the feeling of comfort and safety beneath the gaze of Mary moving below the tilma at the Basilica of Guadalupe in Mexico City. But recalling that felt sense of security also stirs up the anxiety and orphaned heart I brought to her feet. Yes, Mary has been truly a mother to me - in ways that my brother cannot relate to – but that’s the difficult part of my story. And where my brother can understand but not relate to.
Neither of us would trade our unique journeys and I trust Mary is carefully watching over us both. But what I would encourage you to reflect on today is not only what role does Mary play in your life of faith, but why is that? What graces have come from her through blessings and crosses? And who are the people walking alongside you, who are also her children, that might benefit from your story and experience of faith?
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