Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

The feast of Mary as Mother of Divine Providence is celebrated this Friday, November 19, which coincides with the opening of a movie we’ve been waiting for. Forgive me for having a little chuckle…Mary and Harry Potter seem an unlikely pairing for a post, don’t you think?

When I started thinking about this post, I had the feast of Mother of Divine Providence in my mind as November 14, which is important to our family for a whole different set of reasons. Thinking of Lucas led to thoughts of Allen, and then to thoughts of Logan. I thought it was a great God-incidence that this particular feast of Mary would be on Lucas’s feast day. Turns out I was wrong. It’s Harry Potter who’s paired with Mary. (Seriously. I gotta laugh…at myself, at the irony, at the whole “make something important out of it and end up with something a bit ridiculous” way it turned out.)

Thoughts of Divine Providence, in general, lead me to a certain knee-jerk cynicism, though I do love the image of Mary as Mother of Divine Providence. (Aren’t these images great?)

I might write beautifully in this space and have you fooled about how devout I am (that’s not my intention, by the way, but it seems to be a consequence that some read into my writing, no matter how real I try to keep things). I assure you, though, that I shake my fist at God quite regularly and that I question His will all.the.time.

But…and I know this sounds contradictory…I also find peace. I don’t have to understand what’s going on to find peace in God’s will, in the fact that He cares enough about me — little, inconsequential, whiny me — to have a plan in place.

I don’t know what’s best for me. I don’t. Time and again, I’ve proven that.

I thought a career was best. In fact, I thought it would be in teaching. Then I thought it would be marketing-related. Then I thought it would have to do with the Church. (Little did I know…)

I thought marriage was outdated and that having children was unthinkable. (Who knew they would prove to be fun?!?)

Time and again, the things I think and plan turn out to be…well, they don’t. They are often seeds watered by a Divine Hand, sprouting into something He can use, if I’ll let Him.

Me, write books? Nah. Can’t be done. (A year or two ago, my mom sent me the notebooks I filled as a kid with my starter books. Guess she wasn’t so surprised with the news of my book forays, huh?)

However much I may grump at God about His will and His way of doing things, I have discovered a great deal of peace in the experience of knowing He’s there, in charge somehow. I don’t think He minds hearing my thoughts on how things are going; in fact, I think this is the sort of honest conversation He might actually want. Didn’t David rant and rail in the Psalms? Weren’t there plenty of saints who gave God the what-for and talked frankly with Him?

I am no saint. I am no Psalmist. I am just a regular person, mucking my way through life and trying to remember to be charitable and love others and all the rest.

Lately, I’ve been struggling with knowing what’s best in some areas of my life. Choice A or Choice B? Option 1 or Option 2? This or that?

But, maybe, just maybe, knowing is overrated.

Maybe what I need to do is clasp His hand and look up into His mother’s face, knowing that what’s underneath me is the safe haven of her lap.