Of all humanity, she heard the good news from the angel Gabriel.

She said, come what may, "God's will must be done".

Being told that Elizabeth in her old age had conceived, she sets out on a long journey to render her service.

She filled Elizabeth with joy and Elizabeth's unborn child with the Holy Spirit with her single word of greeting.

She sang the Magnificat to God, who brings down the mighty from their thrones and exalts the lowly.

She ministered to her elderly cousin for three months during her pregnancy.

She was heartbroken when she learned that Joseph was thinking of abandoning her in secret.

She took up a long journey on foot with her newly wed husband, to their ancestoral town for a census.

She had to give birth to her child in the most miserable surroundings in an unfamiliar land.

She travelled to Jerusalem on the fortieth day to perform the rites of purification, and presented her firstborn in the Temple.

From the wise man Simeon, she heard the prophetic words that her heart would be pierced with a sword.

She fled to Egypt to secure the life her child from Herod's sword.

She spent probably four years as a refugee in another land in an alien culture, probably working as a maid in some house.

Since returning to her homeland, maybe for twentyfive years with her son she made a pilgrimage on foot to Jerusalem, which would take at least one week, on the occasion of the Feast of Passover.

It was at one of those times, that he stayed back in Jerusalem without informing her, which gave her great anguish for two days that she lost him.

Even at the age of thirty after having gathered some disciples, it was she in Cana who prepared the stage for him to perform his first sign.

She was heartbroken to see that her son, despite having started preaching and going around the country, had come to visit her in their hometown, being hated, and thrown out by the elders from their Synagogue.

Many times she felt alone among her relatives who did not believe her words or had any faith in her son.

It was when they sounded convincing and succumbing to the many rumors that she came worriedly with the relatives to bring her son home if he had gone out of his mind.

She accompanied him as his disciple, after hearing him say that his brother and sister and mother are those who do the will of his Father by pointing to his disciples.

She felt in her body that a sword was piercing her, day by day moving towards her heart as she realized that his face was set towards Jerusalem.

She had to follow her son as he walked deliberately towards his own place of execution.

She prepared the table for her son's last meal, knowing that this extraordinary Passover meal was his Last Supper.

When he offered the bread and the cup, saying, "Take and eat - this is my flesh; take and drink - This is my blood", she must have said in her heart, Son, your flesh and your blood are mine. She must have remembered the Law that said, "You shall not cook the meat of a lamb in its mother's milk", and yet said 'Amen'.

On that night when even after repeated requests the beloved disciple fell asleep three times, when the head disciple swearingly denied three times, when the trusted disciple ran around screaming with thirty pieces of silver, she remained alone in a lonely corner with sleepless eyes in the presence of a burning lamp, listening intently to heaven's whimpering.

Holding tightly to the hands of the two other Marys at dawn she stood like a standing corpse far behind the crowds shouting crucifixion for him.

She saw herself standing mangled when she heard Pilate say "Eche homo."

With a stoney face she walked behind the jeering crowd that could never have felt a heart.

She didn't take her eyes off the face of the One who was lifted up on the cross.

Finally she also heard him confess from the Cross that motherhood was more powerful than discipleship.

At the end when she received his lifeless body in her lap, she gently ruffled his blood-boltered hair with her fingers.

She cried not because she knew that what she saw was not what she saw.

She knew that no night doesn't end in a dawn.

He had to show his disciples the nail marks, invite them to touch it, had to walk miles with them, break bread for them, had to eat a fried fish before them - to make them believe. What about her? How early she had seen it all!

She was also there on the hill in Bethany.

After seeing him go, it was she who gathered her children around her to pray.

She told them stories they knew not.

She was the first to know the Pentecost.

It was she who laid hands on them, knowing that she was taking up twelve more wounds upon her heart, and sent these twelve children on their way.

The Mother of the Lord!

In the fullness of time, she dormitioned. The angels who carried Lazarus to Abraham, carried her to her Son.

Who might have fought a greater fight than she? Who might have run the race than her? Who might have kept the faith than her? Most certainly there was a Crown of righteousness prepared for her. The Lord, who judges righteously, certainly awarded it to her on that day.

Oh no. Not only to her, but to all of us who are united to her Son through her!