Let It Be

What if Mary didn’t want
her child to be special?
Maybe she did,
in the beginning,
when the word had only just
become flesh,
but didn’t her heart break
when he turned his family
away amid the crowd?
Wasn’t her heart pierced
as with a sword just as
the man at the Temple foretold?
Did she not, in that split
second when he met her eyes
and gave her John
wish she could take back her words,
Let it be?
Let this be?
Let this horror, this nightmare,
this ending of her soul’s beginning,
this death…
Let it be?
Could I ever be the mother
you are, Mary?
Can I ever look at my son
at his most broken and abandoned
and say
yes, Lord,
Let it be.

Heather Truett
Hill-born, a coal miner’s granddaughter, a brilliant spark of brain with a wee bit of crazy thrown in for good measure, a writer, a poet, a wife in the bizarre world of the church, wearer of silver tiaras and painter of purple toenails, I am me. Just me.  Read more of Heather’s writing at Madame Rubies.
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Here at Middle Places we LOVE a good story. Everybody is making their way through the middle of something and we'd love to hear about yours. Please send an email to editor@middleplaces.com or check out our Contact page if you'd like to share your story with us and our readers.
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  • Oh Heather…….. this is a thought that I have thought, even with0ut my own children. My heart aches at the thought of her having to watch her son, as it aches when I watch children suffer or friends suffer or even myself. I am so grateful that she chose to say “Let it be…..”.

  • Me too, Katie. I always think of how we say we want something and then are glad we said yes BEFORE we knew how hard it was going to end up being, because had we known we’d never have had the courage to say yes in the first place.

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