Full of Grace


And coming to her, he said, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.”  Luke 1:28

Mighty flower, pure and white, no winter will wilt thee, no summer will scorch thee. Let us fly to your bounty. Let us drink of your nectar. Enclosed by your petals, let us dance with joy. Oh, flower of the valley, oh, mother of life. I give you a rose, a rose to a Rose. I give you my heart to give to your Son. I shower you with petals and cry out your name. Queen of Heaven, behold her, in glory arrayed.

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Like a lightning bolt, at the moment of her conception, Mary was filled with grace. The earth shook and the serpent trembled. Lambs nuzzled into their mothers and the lions roared as one. A dim star grew brighter and the dark of night shimmered. The lowly discoursed on the qualities of God and their rulers listened. Time stood still in reverence and the entire cosmos bowed down. Children sang without knowing why and their elders dared not to silence them. As the rabbis read the scrolls, the words, the very letters of the law, the psalms and the prophets, rose up in flames. All night could be heard the sound of wings beating and the mountains whispered one to another. The waves of the seas ceased and the water was calm, lapping gently at the shore. And a dove circled endlessly above Nazareth, illuminated by its own light.

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