Twelver Days of Mother Love: December 10

Twelve Days of Mother Love

I thought I'd recycle 
a Mary post from 2012.
Hope you don't mind.

Oh mistress of shapeshifting
you come to us
in many guises. . . .

as a lady in white 
floating above an oak tree
in fields in Portugal,
with messages to shepherd children.

as an image on a highway sign
in Sunnyside, Washington
not once, but twice.

As a statue weeping blood
at a Vietnamese Catholic Church
in Sacramento, California.

People see you
in the browning of a grilled cheese sandwich,
in the hues of a plate glass window.

You told the young Bernadette to dig
and when she had done so, 
you filled the void with healing waters.
Even now, over a century and a half later,
pilgrims flock to Lourdes,
seeking miracles of their own.

I don't seek your likeness
in an oil spot on a garage floor,
though you may well choose to do that
for the mechanic who needs a reminder
of the ineffable nature of faith.

Instead, I seek your company
in spirit,
as a feeling of rightness,
of comfort in the face of discomfort,
as acceptance of what seems unacceptable.

I listen for your voice to guide me
when I feel lost
in a thicket of uncertainty.

Come to us
in the call of birds returning home in early spring,
in the twisting smoke of a stick of incense,
in the giggle and froth of a river,
in the singing and trembling of stones
in the temple at Abydos.

Come to us in whatever form
we will understand,
as apparition
as song
as a whisper
as a gold-leafed icon
or a warm breeze.

Just come to us.