The Basilica was dark. Drawn to the nondescript exterior by the striking blue doors, we walked-in to what felt like the thousandth church that day. It was a comfortable day in Rome and the sun was beginning to set, casting shadows across the piazza and darkening the narrow, cobblestone alleys that formed the seemingly endless labyrinth of this old city. A caretake emerged from the dark, seeming somewhat surprised that we entered; for a moment, I thought he was going to ask us to leave. He didn’t, and before my eyes could adjust to the dark, I saw a brightly lit side-chapel toward the front of the church, on the side opposite me.

The year was 2023 and my eyes, heart, and stomach, were full of the sensations of Rome. At that point in the day and the trip, I really didn’t feel there was any room left for additional sensations. Tired as we were, the doors drew us with a blue that seemed as ancient as what I later learned was a 1200 year old church, yet had a distinct vibrancy in this city of marble, burnished bronze, bright stucco, and dark wood. The only light in that church served to illuminate a statue of Our Lady of Lourdes and little Bernadette looking upon her adoringly – a small shrine to a Marian apparition recognized by the Catholic Church as a miracle soon after its occurrence in 1858 in Lourdes, France.

The Catholic devotion to Mary as the Mother of Jesus Christ is often misunderstood by those outside the Church. The simplest answer I can offer is this: if one believes that Jesus is the Son of God, great devotion seems a fitting disposition toward her. But I’m not here to convince, convert, or expound on Marian theology.

Watching my seven grandchildren at a family gathering last night, I was mesmerized by the uniquely individual attributes and the collective effect of their collisions. In some cases, the literal physical collisions yielded some bumps and bruises (perhaps one bloody nose) as they played in the blow-up bounce house. But I was even more struck by their little (and big) personalities interacting in the chaotic dance of child’s play that in some way yields its own beautiful order.

Sitting together on the back porch, the two mothers of my grandchildren and their Nanny, watched, talked, and laughed in the easy way mom’s do when their children are joyfully engaged…and mostly safe. At one point in the melee, I found myself standing at just the right place to see the moms, Nanny, the children, and the sun aligned in such a way that I felt like light was glinting across the backyard, skipping and dancing upon the little souls flitting in all directions.

Was it a trick of the eyes or did I really see seven luminous reflections, glittering back like dragonfly wings in the morning light? Was it the sunlight I saw upon them or something else? There was a radiance in the moment, and the laughter seemed to intensify the brightness even as the deepening shadow of the evening moved over the yard.

I awoke this morning thinking of the brightly lit chapel in that dark Roman Church nearly three years ago. The light and the shadow, the moment and the movement, not in any way physical but in and upon some deeper part of me. Beauty moves all of us in its way, casting itself upon those deeper places we often hide in the shadows of our hopes and fears; a mystical world where imagination may be lost and found amid the harsher realities of adulthood and its temporal demands. Light and shadow seem a fitting medium for such movements of heart and soul, and occasionally, we are gifted with the moments that draw us in.

Light and shadow transported me again last night, as I watched my grandchildren glinting across the waters of my life, reflections of their own God-given luminosity, but also of their mothers, those life-bearers who brought them forth, cast them upon those waters, and imbued them with pieces of their own divine spark. Knowing each of those little souls intimately, I see the shadows of their mothers stretching over them and within them, supplementing the light of creation with the force of presence – nurturing, protecting, and loving them into fullness.

Today is Mother’s Day, our fitting tribute to the life-bearers in our lives who make the sacrifice of self to the great mystery and mission of the children they bear. The reasoning mind acknowledges that celebrating motherhood is fitting because it is a necessary part of our own formation and survival as individuals as well as the great necessity to our survival as a species. However, the Marian heart of our being recognizes that we are moved to honor motherhood because our glint upon life’s waters is a reflection of the Divine given to us through our mothers, and our formation occurs in the shadow cast by their unconditional love.

Thank you to my mom and all of the beautiful mothers in my life. What a glorious vocation and gift. A gift for all of us.