I’ve gotten cold sores since I was little. At random intervals they appear on my mouth, nasty blisters that make me embarrassed to show my face. I avoid eye contact with other people. I want to hide.

On the outside of my box are two verses from a G. K. Chesterton poem:

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

It makes me think about the harshnes of the outside world and the inward knowing of what’s important. About being in the world but knowing what’s true internally.

Inside is Marianne Stokes’ beautiful Madonna and Child and a few of the words from the Magnificat: et exultavit spiritus meus! And my spirit has rejoiced.

This morning a blister appeared on my lip. I put my shrine in my pocket, and it hasn’t been a bad day.

I wish I knew her many years ago, when I didn’t know anything about the sacred feminine, but hungered for it deep in my soul. I’m so grateful to her now, and to Jesus for giving her to me. Our Lady of Sorrows has been a deep comfort for me in pain and depression. Even the symbols representing her speak to me. I’m sure they will speak to you too, lovie.

Keep going. You’re going to be so enriched by Mama’s presence. You know I’m always cheering you on.

Much love!