I missed writing yesterday, Good Friday. I was preoccupied with getting my house cleaned, a Good Friday tradition in my home growing up. My mother called it a "Big Sweep" and the idea was that you had to clean everything, even under your bed. I don't recall that there was much of anything under my bed, but I guess we had to vacuum there too.
Anyway, as I was cleaning I thoughtfully looked at the Blessed Mother statue on my dresser. I have had it since my grandmother gave it to me either for my first communion or confirmation, I'm not sure which. Either way, it was about 45 years ago! She is a staple there and some days go by when I don't pay much attention to her. She has traveled with me through life and has also collected the wear and tear of accumulated dust, stains, and brokenness.
Because I wasn't always so careful, her halo is broken. Not just once, but three times. She has markings of coffee spilled on her and stains from dust and who knows what. But in every house, everywhere I've been, she has stood faithfully on my dresser. I like to think she blesses my jewelry! Haha - but maybe when I put my necklaces on, they have a special grace in them from the Blessed Mother. I should really take her somewhere to be cleaned - or at least try it myself. I wish I still had the pieces that broke off as she was knocked over by this or that. But in her brokenness, we see that we are imperfect. My halo is certainly cracked multiple times. I am covered with dust and coffee stains in my heart. And yet she still stands. How did she stand by the cross on that first Good Friday? I cannot begin to imagine the brokenness... But that is a mother's love. A love beyond all meaning... 
Love!
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