08.20.10
Food for thought
Oh Mary,
Nourisher of Him who nourished all,
Pray for us.
--Attributed to St. Jerome
Madonna Litta by DaVinci
07.22.10
This is summer? — Plus pretty picture
Yesterday on the radio, I heard that the Bay Area was experiencing its coldest summer in 40 years. That is (ahem) longer than I’ve been alive, so in other words, this is the chilliest July that I have ever experienced. I’ve worn flannel pajamas the last two nights (no joke), and I am currently in the throes of a very heinous summer cold (shouldn’t that be an oxymoron?). Last night was a bit of a rotter, especially when I realized we had used up our Ny-Quil last spring. Kind husband just bought me a huge box at Target, so tonight should be better.
Sigh.
But enough of the little pity party. Let’s take a look at something uplifting, like Mary and Jesus. This lovely image was sent to me by a reader a while back (thanks, Gabriel!). I adore non-European images of the Madonna and Child.
Have a warm, congestion-free day.
And if you are thinking of visiting California, bring your coat.
07.12.10
Our Lady of the Impatiens (with a reflection on patience)
I adore my backyard Mary statue. She is the very picture of serenity there, in her little corner. She looks over my impatiens (I’ve planted them in pots at her feet the last three summers; I love the bright colors against her whiteness) and watches the soccer games of the boys and surveys all the comings and goings of the Moyer family as we grill and eat and relax with books and pull weeds and spray for ants (the reality of life in the garden, you know?). She just looks out over it all, calmly.
There was a time when this image of Mary, the very traditional one, was the last thing I’d have wanted in my yard. I associated it with old patriarchal attitudes and a very two-dimensional view of women. But over the last eight years, as I’ve gotten to know Mary better, I’ve reclaimed this image. Yes, I love the more modern images of Mary — they always seem to remind me that she was a real woman — but I love this one, too. If you look at pictures of Mary across time and across cultures, you know that she shows up in so many different faces, and outfits, and skin tones, and postures. No one image captures all of who she is.
But to me, a thirty-seven-year-old working mom with way too much on my plate, this graceful white statue is all about peacefulness and serenity. Those are two qualities that often are missing in my own life, with its nutty schedule. That’s why I love her. I love having her there on the patio, a patient woman in a bower of flowers, a quiet eye in the whirlwind of my life.
06.22.10
Three roses, two Marys, one writer’s life
Summer is here, which means the roses are in bloom. And wow: that “Bewitched” rose I planted two years ago is en fuego. It is busting out buds like you wouldn’t believe. Every day I’m snipping more blooms to take into the house. I adore them.
Sometimes, the problem is figuring out where to put them for maximum effect.
I tried a lovely triad of blooms on my dresser, next to the Mary statue:
Yes, very nice … but somehow, they are even nicer on my writing desk:
“Writing desk” sounds a bit grander than the reality. Often, it ends up being more of a holding ground for books, or things I need to take back to the store, or my husband’s clothes when he doesn’t have time to put them away. (He uses Luke’s closet, since the one in our room is too small for a couple to share and still stay married. People must have been mostly naked in the 1940s when this house was built.) But since school has been out, I’ve been using this writing desk more and more. It gets great afternoon sun, and it has a lovely view of the backyard. It’s a calm, quiet place. Very nice.
Of course, you can’t really take a step in my house without bumping into some picture of Mary. The writing desk is no exception.
This is the Our Lady of Perpetual Help that used to be on my grandmother’s dresser. I acquired it last summer, during the Christmas in August at my aunt’s house. On the back, half- hidden, you can see a short explanation of the image, along with the directions to write to the Redemptorist Fathers of Liguori, Missouri for additional copies. The frame has some shiny glue on the back, as if the back prop part would not stay open and my grandma (or, more likely, my very handy grandpa) set it firmly in place.
It makes sense to have Our Lady of Perpetual Help on a writing desk. Yes, I adore writing. Other than spending time with the boys, it is when I feel most alive, most like I’m doing something worthwhile. But it has its share of rejections, and flat periods, and moments of big-time fear. I like the idea of Mary there on my desk, watching me as I scribble, perpetually ready to give a little help.
In the end, I left the roses there, on the writing desk. They just seemed to fit. I guess you can call them a kind of offering to Mary, for all she offers me.
05.11.10
Tuesday evening grab-bag of randomness
1. This is a terrible time of year for teachers, isn’t it? The kids are squirrely, we’re fried, and somehow we all have to pretend that we have enough energy to make it through June. I was talking to a colleague today, and we both agreed that we are not on our A-game these days. “I feel like everything I say in the classroom is just blather,” she said. “The kids are surly, and I’m inane.” I know exactly how she feels.
But we soldier on nonetheless.
2. In brighter news, I got a blogging award from my friend Gardenia. Yay! Thanks, Gardenia! I love warm fuzzies! When my brain is less fried I will pass it along to other bloggers.
3. Since we are in the middle of May, I want to share this lovely Mary that a reader sent me a while back (thank you, Helen!).
I love the serenity and beauty of this picture. It just makes me feel calm, you know? I know that in reality, Mary had far from an easy life; being an unwed pregnant mother, giving birth in a stable, fleeing as a refugee to a foreign land and seeing her son tortured and killed is not exactly what I’d class as serene. And I do like those rare paintings that show a realistic, gritty Mary. At the same time, though, I also like the beautiful ones like these.
I guess it comes down to this: there are moments in my life when I need to picture Mary as fitting right into my own messy existence, and then there are times when I need her to be the beautiful lady that gives me peace. I love that she can be both, at the same time.
05.01.10
Mary’s Month
April felt like the cruelest month this year. Overall, the weather has been pretty lousy ( in northern CA, this means that you have two tantalizing days of warmth, followed by several days of rain and wind). But the weather report indicates that we’re entering a warming trend. And since this is the dawning of May — Mary’s month — the timing could not be better.
A few weeks back, I had some ideas about celebrating May in a big way. I wanted to make the blog a veritable garden of daily offerings about Mary. Somehow, given the reality of life with a teaching job and two extremely active boys, I think I may have to scale back my expectations. I’m guessing my May postings will end up being more of the same: random thoughts dashed off here and there, some about Mary, some about the juggling act of life in general.
But that’s okay, really. I know that Mary gets the nuttiness that is motherhood. It’s one of the reasons I love her so much. And I hope that my casual verbal meanderings do, in some small way, communicate and celebrate that love — during May and all the rest of the year, too.
04.19.10
A blah Monday, redeemed
Earlier today, after I got home from school, I asked Matthew if he wanted to go out on a trike ride. As expected, his face lit up. “I’m going to tell Mary,” he said.
Off he went to the desk in my bedroom. He looked at the small statue of Mary that I bought in Lourdes eight years ago. To be honest, I had no idea he’d ever noticed her there before.
“Mary, I’m going to go on a bike ride,” he told her. He paused a moment, looking at her and waiting, and then he smiled and walked away. I am sure that, in his own little mind, she answered him.
It’s moments like these that keep me going.
04.10.10
The Mary who looks right at you
There are some images of Mary that are just hard to forget. They’re especially beautiful, or striking, or they resonate in some emotional way that is difficult to explain. For me, this is one of those pictures.
It’s the work of the Austrian artist Marianne Stokes, who painted it in 1907-1908. The costume is the traditional dress of Dalmatia, which a region on the Adriatic Sea (yes, I had to look this up. Oh, by the way, it is where the dogs come from.) Stokes used a local girl as a model, and, according to this museum website, the thorny bushes in the back foreshadow Christ’s Passion.
Isn’t it gorgeous? And it’s more than gorgeous, too, I think. Something in Mary’s gaze is very moving to me. Maybe it’s because so many traditional images of Mary show her with downcast eyes, looking humble. I like how she looks right at you, meeting your eyes: she seems very confident. At the same time, there’ s a rather dreamy, introspective quality to her expression that just gives it all the more complexity and depth. And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned about Mary over the past several years, it’s that she’s a lot deeper and more complex than I ever used to think.
Madonna and Child by Marianne Stokes
04.02.10
On Good Friday
I am overwhelmed, O my son,
I am overwhelmed by love
And I cannot endure
That I should be in the chamber
And you on the wood of the cross;
I in the house
And you in the tomb.
– Romanos Melodos
Pieta by Gustave Moreau
03.25.10
The Annunciation, X 5
You have to love the Annunciation. It’s about a very young girl saying “yes” to something amazing — a “yes” that took jaw-dropping courage and faith. It’s about God choosing to become very, very small and grow inside the body of a woman. It’s about the very beginning of a baby who would one day become a man, an astonishing man who would smash prejudices, break bread with outcasts, treat women with equality and dignity, and preach an utterly subversive law of love.
So yeah… I kind of like today’s feast day.
I’m obviously not the first person to get all emotional when reflecting on the Annunciation. And while my medium is words, plenty of artists throughout the centuries have used paint and canvas to shed light on the subject. I’ve assembled a few Annunciation scenes here, in honor of the day and all that it has meant to billions of people since then. Take a look:
Annunciation by Mikhail Nesterov
I love the blue in Mary’s robe here. Something about the colors — the gold, the yellow, the green, the blue — makes me think of springtime. And hey, the Annunciation is all about new beginnings, isn’ t it?
Annunciation by Rubens
I’ve always loved the extravagance of Rubens’ paintings. This one is no exception. I have to say, though, that I’m not a big fan of the cat there in the foreground. In my gut, I am convinced that Mary was a dog person (clearly, I’m projecting).
Ecce Ancilla Domini! by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
This is one of the few paintings of the Annunciation where Mary actually seems … scared. She huddles against the wall as if for protection. Frankly, that makes a lot of sense to me. If an angel appeared in my room, hovering above the ground with fire coming out of his feet, I would not exactly be calm. So this depiction just seems realistic to me, which is why I love it. (Oh, and I’m a huge fan of Rossetti, and all the Pre-Raphaelites. I love them with the burning passion of a thousand suns.)
The Annunciation by Edward Burne-Jones
Speaking of Pre-Raphaelites, here’s one by Edward Burne-Jones. I love the Grecian elements in this painting, and I like how the perspective echoes some of the famous Renaissance paintings of the Annunciation. ( Deep inside me, there is a frustrated art historian dying to get out … can you tell?)
The Annunciation by Henry Ossawa Tanner
If we’re looking for realism, this is probably one of the best Annunciations I’ve seen. Mary actually looks like a young woman of humble background, not like some wealthy Italian beauty. The look on her face is fascinating, too: questioning, earnest, not entirely sure, but not too worried, either. This painting really moves me.
So what do you think ? Is there a painting here that you really like? Or do you have other favorites?
