On the (belated) Feast of St. Martha

This is a belated post regarding the feast of St. Martha.  Belated, not because I forgot her feast.  Belated, because the more I contemplated what I love about St. Martha, the more I realized how much I still have to learn from her.

My first true appreciation for this saint came the day after Luke's birth, during those early morning hours after he was born and I couldn't sleep, when I picked up my Magnificat and read this:

"Jesus entered a village where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him.  She had a sister named Mary who sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him.  Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said, "Lord, do you not know that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?  Tell her to help me."  The Lord said to her in reply, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.  There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her."

Amazingly enough, it is from the Book of Luke (10:38-42).

I knew then that this was part of the reason God had blessed us with this child.  I knew parenting Luke would help me stay focused on that One Thing.

Parenting each of my children encourages me to fill my days with love and gentleness rather than the busyness to which I am so prone.  But with Luke being the boy that he is, I often have to slow down, or even just stop to listen, more than I need to with my other children.  God has shown me again and again in recent years, and very much in recent months, that what He most desires from me is "a gentle, quiet spirit" (1Peter 3:4).  It's not what I can do for God or for my children that matters; it's who I am for them.

But lately, my grief over losing our unborn child weighs down my heart, and shows itself through words of anger toward those I love most.  That is not what I want for Benny's legacy; I want his mark on the world to be one of gentleness, and compassion, and love.

So what do I do?

I go into Adoration and notice all of my cares appear as nothing except for one: my ache for my son.  But as my tears flow out, God pours in some more healing, some more grace.

I sit down to pray in the morning, and read words like this from my Magnificat: "O will of my Lord, be my delight and the rapture of my soul," from St. Faustina.  And also, "Hold firm and take heart. Hope in the Lord!" (Ps. 27:14)

I go to Mass; I receive our Lord; I give thanks.

I find a time to go to confession -- soon.

I visit friends instead of staying home and feeling sad.  I clean my home, knowing the peace it will bring my family -- and the opportunity for a restful Sunday.  I invite my husband's grandparents for dinner, knowing the warmth that will come from their conversation and the silliness of my children as they show off Legos and sommersaults.

I try again to share with my husband the swirl of thoughts, and fears, and emotions inside of me.  And when I fall, and get carried away by those emotions (as happens so often these days), I apologize, and try again.

I keep plugging away at the St. Martha blog post, thinking maybe it's worth sharing my struggles if anyone else ever comes across this some day and realizes they're not alone in mourning an unborn child, even long after it seems like anyone else would even suspect you're still hurting.

Like St. Martha, I want to still my heart.  To be in the Lord's presence and to rejoice in the gift that is my family and the time we have together.  I have come far since I read those words on her feast day six years ago.  And with her help, I pray I can continue farther still.

Here is a novena to St. Martha I found a while ago on many different websites; I no longer am sure which one this came from.  It is supposed to be prayed on nine consecutive Tuesday mornings, with a lit candle nearby.

"O admirable Saint Martha, I have recourse to thee and I depend entirely on thy intercession in my trials.  In thanksgiving, I promise to spread this devotion everywhere.  I humbly beg thee to console me in all my difficulties.  By the immense joy that filled thy soul when thou didst receive the Redeemer of the world at thy home in Bethany, be pleased to intercede for me and my family, in order that we may keep God in our hearts and therefore, deserve to obtain the remedy to our necessities, especially the present situation that overwhelms me.

(Mention your intentions here.)

I implore thee, O Auxiliatrice in all needsl help us to overcome our difficulties, thou who so victoriously fought the devil.  Amen.

Recite three times one Our Father, one Hail Mary, one Glory Be, and the invocation, 'St. Martha, pray for us.'"