Loving Mary
A statue of Our Blessed Mother wears a crown of flowers during Mass on May 3, 2024, at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Fort Worth. (NTC/Juan Guajardo)
Among all the celebrations that exist around the world, I believe that the most successful is the celebration of Mother's Day because the love of a mother is so unique and exceptional that there is nothing that can compare, because even God Himself, made man, wanted to have one.
Without a doubt, Mary, Mother of God, manifests unconditional and genuine love, and for this reason, God chose Mary as His progenitor.
I love seeing my mother reflected in the same image of the Mother of God because, like Mary, my mother always advocates that I help our neighbors when sometimes I don't want to (it reminds me of the wedding at Cana), and she always pushes me to be good when sometimes my intentions may lead me astray.
The purity of a mother always invites her children to do good and achieve authenticity as a person.
I have always lived immersed in an immense love for Mary, Mother of God. My mother, with her humility, simplicity, and goodness is the cause of this.
Eight years ago, I lost one of my brothers who was four years younger than me. In addition to being my brother, he was my best friend.
The Virgin Mary provided sustenance throughout this time of mourning and continuity for my mother and me. Every 19th of the month, my mother and I pray, by telephone if not in person, the Rosary for the eternal rest of the soul of my brother who died on June 19, 2016. She is in Mexico, and I am in Texas, but this is not an impediment to our uniting in faith, love, and communion to intercede for my brother's soul. With this activity, I can support my mother and thus give her a little comfort in her life amidst the loss of her son.
In this annual exercise of love and unity, the protagonist and basis of everything is Mary, the ever-virgin Mary, Mother of God, Mary of the holy Rosary, the lady of the story that my mother told me when I was a child, the one that I do not I want to make cry, and the same one that now unites us in comfort and peace.
The one that unites me and my mother (who, by the way, is called María) in Michoacán, Mexico.
Every time I enter a church, I look for an image of the creator's mother — and I don't do it just so I can see her, I do it so that she can also see me — there under her feet, I stand, imploring that she fix her gaze on me and that she may never stop seeing me, that she may know me and that she may always recognize me everywhere as her loving son who respects her, admires her, and who above all loves her as his heavenly mother.
Having a mother is like having bread for hunger, an umbrella for the rain, a refreshing drink for the heat, and a warm blanket for the cold.
Luis Miguel Urrutia is a new columnist for the North Texas Catholic. Read about him here.