A Visitation: Reflection on France

How is it that the Mother of My Lord should come to me?

Me, an I worthy servant,
made worthy by the touch of Your hands,
made new in the light of Your smile
that resembles hers.

There is none like you,
O Mother, my Queen,
Most Radiant One, Most Pure and Holy.

You come, not in pity,
but steadfast surety, gifting faith
as we walk this road to Calvary.
Your Son so earnestly believed.

He learned from you, didn’t He, Mother?
Your open hands promise faith.
Your silence then speaks it to me.

Help me stand as firm as the tree
which hung Your Son,
the tree which you clung
to give ground to your sorrow.

And pray, Mother, that I may be
consecrated in truth -
Your Son is truth, His word is life -
so that my life may be a wood
upon the tree that never moves.

Come to me, Mother,
and teach me,
the unworthy servant that I am,
how to walk by faith.