“The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.”

—James Baldwin

As a mother of six, I have always been drawn to Mary, mother of Jesus, exemplar of courage and giver of sacrificial love. I have made pilgrimages to sites where it is said she made appearances and performed miracles as proclaimed in Lourdes, France. I have collected books, art and statues of Mary. A small alabaster figurine from Notre Dame Cathedral fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. She sits on my desk beside my computer, a wreath of twelve stars on her head, the baby Jesus tucked in her right arm, a knowing smile on her face. Another special “Mary” is a hand-painted sculpture by an artist from Birmingham, Alabama. She wears the familiar blue draped gown flecked with gold stars. This queen mother figure holds her own at the center of my family room.

But my very favorite “Mary” is a painted sculpture with her heart unusually exposed outside of her chest. It is called the Immaculate Heart of Mary and beautifully captures my experience as a mother and being mothered.

My eclectic collection of Marys reminds me of what I (and you) are here to do—to be a force of love. 

The human spirit’s capacity to love beyond itself (heart outside the chest) is the pinnacle of human existence. Any display of such sacrificial love is proof we have a bit of divinity within us.

I am blessed to have a role model in my own mother of what it looks like to love another human being with all you have—deeply, unconditionally, sacrificially. To meet my mother is to experience a calm, reassuring presence where all feels possible. No one believes in me like she does. Nor forgives my flaws. All that is soft and good and creative in me is a direct reflection of her. When my son was diagnosed with cancer, she left her life behind and moved up to New York City and lived on my couch every month for a year. She is the reason I would go on and bravely have five more children. “What else matters Farrell but being blessed to love.” 

My mother is invested in almost every detail of everything that happens in my life and the lives of my husband and children—offering reassuring wisdom. Not a day goes by that we don’t communicate and align our hearts. No one reads a single sentence of my writing until she has seen it first. She knows my thoughts so well, and can see through the dangling modifiers to the message beneath. Most importantly, when life has devastated me, she has stood right beside me in the pain. Her steadfastness has saved me time and time again. I know how to love because of the way she loves me. I imagine that is exactly how Jesus felt about his own mother Mary, and why it was so important to him from the cross to make sure she would be taken care of when he was gone. 

The human heart is an undeniable miracle. Ultimately, we discover that it actually does not belong to us, but always was meant to be given away to another, even to many. One’s willingness to make this sacrifice determines the value of a special life. At a primal level, love is all we need to survive. Mary gave her special heart to Jesus from birth to painful death so he could give his magnificent heart to all of us. 

When we witness a human heart that loves beyond its capacity, awe overtakes us in a mixture of terrifying fear and terrific hope. Our souls know loving like this is miraculous, but also suscepts us to scary vulnerability and potential devastating loss. Can we dare to love this way? God’s way? We have that potential. What degree we sacrifice ourselves for the love of another is the secret to our salvation and a hope without end.

Mary loved just like this. 

It was Mother Mary who first introduced Jesus to the sheer beauty and joy of being human on this planet. Her melodic voice would have been his first experience of music in a lullaby. She would have shown him the wonders of nature; pointing up to the stars, picking a perfect fig for him to eat, showing him his first rainbow after a storm. I envision Jesus crawling under Mary’s table laden with food and friends seated all around. Their chatter and laughter, the joy of community imprinted on his heart. It was also Mary who taught Jesus what steadfast love looks like. When he accepted the impossible and dangerous mission to challenge evil with pure goodness, there was Mary by his side. When his friends betrayed him, there she stood. Till the brutal end, Mary was there.

The awe is knowing that someone could love you like this­.

You can love like this.