Outside the church in Andrews today there is a lone flower among the rocks that was not planted there by any human being. There are some of the same nearby, in planters, but, this is like jumping out of the boundaries, “taking the leap” as one existentialist guy said.
Saint Paul speaks much about freedom from the law, not to break the law, but being consistent with the intent and letter of the law not by constraint, but because of new-found integrity and honesty, the freedom of choosing – in grace – all that which is holy, respectful, good and kind, the freedom to shed political correctness, the freedom to do what one is called to do by God with purity of heart and agility of soul, the freedom to act with the fullness of a life into which we are drawn in Christ Jesus, by Christ Jesus.
The Way of the Truth and Life may look terribly lonely, terribly rocky, terribly difficult, but then, once having “taken the leap” in a way that no dark existentialisticness could ever comprehend, we flourish on that Way, laughing in the face of any “difficulty.”
Mary had no one in whom to learn from except her own Son. Those three days during which He was… was… gone… How very, very, very lonely. Devastating. When her Son jumped down from the Cross straight into hell in order to preach to the fallen spirits for their eternal frustration and anguish as just deserts for their sin, she, Mary, in solidarity, was with Him in spirit, but ever so alone. John? Good John, who came back and stood with her on Calvary… still… what could he possibly know. Really, he could know nothing of what she was going through, though she never looked at that, but rather was following her Son as best she could in spirit.
No one before or since, of course, then flourished as she did. She grew in that love which is stronger than death, as strong as eternal life.
“I am making all things new,” He said.
“Thank you, my dear Son,” she said.
So, a flower for you, Mary.