I assume that Mary delighted in each and every kick of the infant Jesus inside her womb, and used those kicks as a reminder to thank God for the blessing of the life within her.
I assume that Mary lovingly prayed for her mother, St. Anne, each time she wrapped the baby Jesus in the swaddling blanket that St. Anne so lovingly wove from finest fabric for her Grandson.
I assume that Mary grimaced as she scrubbed the dirt from Jesus' neck when he returned home, hot and sticky, from helping St. Joseph in the carpenter shop.
I assume that Mary worried about the friends that Jesus associated with and prayed that they would be faithful and well-behaved.
I assume that Mary cried the day that Jesus left to begin his mission in life, as the empty place within her heart which would one day contain the sword began to ache just a bit.
I assume that Mary would have rather died on that cross herself, than to stand helplessly beneath it.
Holy, sweet, beautiful Mother, on this glorious day of your Assumption into heaven, I ask you to remember all mothers who long to follow in your path of holiness. Ask your Son to fill our hearts with a gentle love like yours, a love that silently ponders the wonders and sorrows of our world, as we await our own glorious entrances into the eternal kingdom of heaven. Amen.
