Thanks to Kinsi for hosting a place to let Mary in.
Sometimes a certain phrase or image pierces just the right place in your heart to open up the small pathway God needs to let His message in. This past week has been a series of daily trials, nothing significant, nothing crippling, but just enough to make you want to hide under the blankets and wait it all out. I mean the next sixteen years or so. And you keep looking at God, and asking, "Where are the tools, the gifts you have given me to deal with this? I am helpless and insufficient. I want to seek You, Christ, but really, there is just too much laundry to do."
And amidst my interior struggle against the meaninglessness of wiping mustard stains off the counter, a small phrase comes back to me, edging in just where I need it most:
"Shall I touch the sky with these small hands?"
From musician Danielle Rose's beauteous "Let it be Done unto Me," a reflection on the Annunciation, the young Virgin Mary has just learned that she will be the mother of Lord of the Universe Himself, "a peasant girl from Galilee," as it is phrased in the song. She asks in those first tenuous, awe-stricken moments, "Shall I touch the sky with these small hands?" And the image of her kneeling there, just a maiden, in front of this formidable messenger from God, to learn the news that all creation has been longing for, is quite conquering. Looking to herself she sees the smallness of who she is, and it is of no significance to God, only her answer to Him is what matters.
And I can pick up that rag, or that baby, or that poster boy of anarchy teenager, and realize that I too, I of the little wisdom and less strength, with this "yes," I will touch the sky with these small hands.