Learning to be a serpent-like dove

Yet another birthday has come and gone. This one is different for I celebrated it as a married woman. Initially I did not think anything of it until E highlighted it. It is special for my family has transformed quite significantly. It has grown, just like that. Apart from P, I have two lovely children in their 20s without having gone through pregnancy and childbirth (the best part), and I finally have sisters, together with another brother, who with their spouses and children do add up. I also have a mother-in-law who gives me the sweetest smiles.

While it can get overwhelming at times living in a houseful of people with an über affectionate goldie - as I commented to our Bible-sharing group I went from just having to please my mother to many constituents to serve - I wouldn't change it for the world. God has called me to live out my vocation of marriage and motherhood within this specific milieu and this is where I choose to be.

Reflecting on what has passed in the last year and what will be, the stories of Abraham and his progeny resonate robustly with me. The depth and breadth of faith displayed by Abraham, especially when faced with perceived great personal tragedy of the loss of Isaac at his own hands is inspiring. This can only come from a place of utter humility and obedience based on a level of deep trust.

As Henri Nouwen wrote in a letter to a friend in crisis found in the book Love Henri: You are asked to cling to your Lord no matter what. You are asked to keep praying even when it might seem absurd. You are asked to enter the darkness of not understanding with an ever growing surrender.

Just as I got proficient with my yes in my single life and was seeking a deepening of my relationship with Jesus, He saw fit to put me on a new path where I am a novice again, bumbling around cluelessly. It is not just a singular giant leap of faith I have taken with marriage, but multiple leaps into completely different dimensions with almost every step.

This time, last year, I was journeying towards marriage and looking back, I had many questions, some reservations and even deep fear even though I knew in my gut that P was the right man, and marriage was right for me, for us. Well meaning voices added to my confusion. Then there was the pain of leaving behind my single life which I loved and would miss greatly. I counted the costs, wept over the losses, but like Abraham, left everything behind - the old comfortable way of life to venture into the unknown based on a promise of greater things, a covenant of unimaginable proportions.

With the benefit of hindsight, I can laugh at how I struggled so unnecessarily. And yet, the struggles were vital. Without the struggles, I would not have grown so rigorously. I would not have sought for the healing insights, nor received the transformative wisdom I have since acquired. I would have remained a smaller, weaker person. Less refined and matured, spiritually and emotionally.

Despite seven good months of marriage, I currently feel off my game and more than a little frayed around the edges given my menopausal brain cloud and the physical woes of my fifty something body, but I have no doubt I will find my stride eventually.

Right now, it is time for me to lay low, lay fallow. It's not unlike going back to school to learn many things, chiefly, how I can find my place within my new family, bringing my own distinctive brand of love and care even as I continue to serve the Lord with docility and lightheartedness.

Yesterday's Gospel from Matthew 10:16 is something I will adopt as a theme in the new year: To be cunning as serpents and yet as harmless as doves.

To fulfil my commission well, I not only need to be wise and gentle, but patient and persevering. Where I have failed in the past, I can redeem those mistakes by not repeating them in my new family. I must re-invent myself into a better version of me, a more true version of who I am. The only way I can accomplish the desired integrity and nobility of spirit is if I surrender unquestionably to Jesus.

As I meditated on the sorrowful mystery of carrying the cross yesterday, I was struck by the reflection that stated should I choose to take up my cross, then Jesus and Mary would help me bear it. There is no need to resist so much, to be so beset with worry or fear. Let things unfold as they will, meet each step on the journey with Christ's courage and Mary's grace, even when the hour seems unendingly bleak. All will be well.

I praise God for an amazing year of growing in these last 12 months, and I am grateful His Spirit has been within me all this while, guiding me. I am also thankful for the gift of Mother Mary, who, as the peaceful dove, is the one who will teach me best to be a wife and mother par excellence.