"Will you accept this child? Do you REALLY want this child?"
Choice begins when the child is first growing inside the mother, and there is a trembling that can't be helped when we're confronted with incipient parenthood, a bone-deep, chilling knowledge that Child Equals Change, Child Equals a gradual erosion of selfishness and immaturity.... Are we ready? Can we let go of cherished free time? Let go of dreams that will be unfulfilled because money will get tighter? Let go of the light-hearted lack of responsibility that we cling to without realizing it? Does our faith in God light the way into the Dark Unknown?
Softly but undeniably the voice comes, like faint trumpets -
"Will you accept this child? Do you REALLY want this child?"
Saying "yes" (as Mary knows) does not put an end to the question. Along with the joy we feel at the coming of this new child, life can become darker, edgier, very quickly. For an unwed mother like Mary, it meant the danger of being stoned to death. For an unwed mother today, it can mean an absent father of the child, searching for healthcare, baby clothes, diapers, a place to live....even just a safe place to have the child...Pregnancy can mean toxemia, vicious leg cramps, morning sickness, back aches, fatigue, to cope with while on the job, and an ever-present fear of the pains and unknown obstacles of the upcoming delivery.
That first "yes" triggers an avalanche of mountains to climb on the nine month journey to childbirth - just as Mary, unwed, wondering what would become of her, had to forget herself and travel over rough country to take care of her aged cousin Elizabeth. Because life doesn't stop while you're pregnant. Sometimes it continues with hardly any glances cast your way to see how you are faring. Your family, friends, the job, keep up with needs and demands. There can be silent tears shed at night - or in the bathroom at work - and smiles pasted on to fool the world (and your family) into thinking you're doing just fine.
And the angel keeps whispering, "Do you accept this child? Do you really want this child?" Your hands curve around your belly (or your wife's) protectively, feeling for the faint flutters or the tiny kicks, and even if you feel like you can't take another ache, pain, or trip to the bathroom, - or work demand - you whisper back "Yes." Your faith in God, in yourself, in the value of this child, lifts you up, carries you.
Finally you receive this child into your arms, and you are overcome by wonder, by awe, by smiles, by tears. It's done! The child is here! Now you can relax!
But you can't. As the months and the years pass, your life grows more and more hectic - from the exhaustion of night feedings, to the change from an all-liquid diet to solids (and food spit into your face), to toilet training, to sicknesses and spurts of vomit spraying your clothes. When you're on your last nerve, and, if you're married, you and/or your spouse are going to and from work like a zombie, and you're biting each others' heads off just from lack of sleep - that's when a rebellious, tiny part of you asks "How long can I keep handling this?"
- And THAT'S when the angel starts questioning you again: "Do you accept this child? Do you REALLY want this child?" Because it's a choice that has to be made over and over, every day: How precious is this little one to you? Can you climb over the mountains of your own selfishness? Can you keep faith with God - and yourself - that this child is worth all your inconveniences, exhaustion, and frayed nerves? Can you genuinely LIVE your faith through caring for this innocent, vulnerable one?
And the little one keeps getting bigger, making you laugh with his antics, warming your heart with her smile, swelling your heart with pride when he takes his first step, says her first word. Breaks your heart with unexpected loss when he starts off to kindergarten and he's not your baby anymore. A loss like Mary's when she heard in the Temple "and because of this child, a sword will pierce your heart."
It's your first taste of loss - because losses continue.
More swords keep piercing a parent's heart. Teenagers stay close and loving, but now they have friends - and secrets. Cell phones. New temptations. Driver's licenses. And sometimes their thoughtlessness can make parents feel as obsolete as the now-discarded phone, put aside for a new one. There's the exhilaration - and anguish - of first loves. Someone hurts your child - grievously - and you hold her close, a sword piercing your own heart.
Then the tears come when a child now grown packs a car and sets off for out-of-town college. Or moves away for an out-of-town job. Yes, you're so proud, so happy she's growing into the wonderful, independent, and talented person you knew she was all along. But - it hurts. At some level, it feels like abandonment. The angel keeps whispering "Do you REALLY want this child, this source of your pain?"
And, because you're wiser now, you whisper back, "Great love always leads to great pain. It comes with the territory. I can't imagine my life without him."
Pain and joy are so intermixed that you can't tell which is which when that child walks down the aisle - or stands ready to take the hand of the bride. They're tearful. You're tearful. When did he grow up to be this incredible man? When did she grow up to be this remarkable woman? Emotion bubbles over like a fountain. What unutterable joy and bliss it is that he has learned how to love unselfishly, that she is willing to take the risk to be faithful!
The angel whispers, "Blessed are you among women; blessed are you among men."
Sadly, bigger swords can pierce your heart, thrusts that almost kill. A child's serious illness, physical, emotional, or mental. A child's alcohol or drug addiction. Hospitalizations. Tests and more tests. Rehab and more rehab. Perhaps even the terrible diagnosis: Terminal. Or your grown child goes through a terrible divorce. Or the one-time altar server is now an atheist. The child you once knew has become a suffering or antagonistic stranger, and you sink to your knees in your room at night, and cry and wail, helpless, undone. "God, what's happening? He doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve this." You've come face to face with mystery, with crucifixion, with loss, and it's almost impossible to believe that there can come any kind of healing or resurrection.
The angel whispers, "Can you still want and love this broken child?"
Somewhere from your depths the answer surfaces, "I believe that love is even stronger than death. It has to be. I cannot leave her now."
With Mary, you walk the Way of the Cross, stumbling, as broken as your child. All attempts to appear perfect or in control are gone. Patience is strained past bearing. Courage is tested not only day to day but moment to moment. Your child is changing and you are changing. The eyes you stare into in the mirror are unrecognizable.
Yet hands reach out to you to support you as you stumble. Voices speak out to comfort you and cheer you, give you new insights. Feet tromp up to your door to deliver a casserole. For the angel always brings gifts to those who have the faith and the courage to say "yes" to parenthood. And the person you are becoming is much stronger than the person you were, for you are walking through fire and surviving; you are entering into the very depths of sacrificial love; your heart is becoming united to the mortally wounded and triumphant heart of Christ.
Deep waters cannot quench love.
God never abandons His faithful ones. Remember: the Magi brought gifts to Mary and Joseph and the Babe when they were lonely and shivering in a stable, and the angels sang a joyous "Alleluia" overhead to give them hope in the dark night. They were guided as they traveled by night as refugees into Egypt to escape certain death. And Mary was surrounded by women friends and John when she stood at the foot of the cross. The angel always brings others to the rescue, other parts of Christ's Body, to let us know that God is with us, always with us.
"Indeed, I am with you always," God promises. "Live on in my love," Christ says. Being faithful in love always brings us to the cross. But there is always a resurrection afterwards - new healing, new life, new surprises, new twists and turns to the journey, new ministries. New and deeper understandings of faith, hope, and love. "Behold, I make all things new," promises the Holy Spirit.
Throughout our lives as parents, the angel keeps calling, "Do you REALLY want this child? Do you REALLY make the choice that she is yours, over and over again, regardless of the sacrifices you must make?" The babe you hold in your arms will grow into a totally new individual, someone totally different from you, with different gifts, strengths, temptations, illnesses, challenges, loves, and hurts. He achieves different victories, carries different crosses, follows his own unique call from God, a call you must respect.
How he/she has changed your life for the better by being in it! What joy it is to know that your faithful love has helped create her heart and soul. Your faithful love gives him the courage to take risks, to forge a new path, to become the person God desires him to be. You have helped co-create this child with God, and God is forever grateful to you. With Mary, you can proclaim, with everlasting gratitude:
"My soul praises the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior ....for He has done great things for me by giving me my beloved child, and all generations will call me blessed!"