When I think of that modest room lit by a receptive heart 
even before the messenger appeared
I wonder if she was dreaming of her expected life
with Joseph
as many girls do when they are betrothed.
But then
a shift in the room’s energy
and a benediction uttered out of the silence,
not much of a preamble to the prediction
of pregnancy and prophecy landing
smack dab not only into her story
but her own body.

It was a lot to take in.
Wha…?
How….?

God will do the impossible
and is doing almost the same with Elizabeth
just in case you need a little help.

Let it be, then.

Just like that?
Well, she must have been good at saying yes
since it came so easily.
But this was yes of an altogether different sort.

Yes to telling Joseph.
Yes to the whispers
the accusations
the shame.

This yes would be the beginning,
the boot camp for much bigger yesses to come. 
She surely said no in her pondering heart 
as the story outgrew her first yes.
She was his mother.
But that first yes
by a devoted young woman
was enough.

         It is an ordinary Advent morning, and I’m reading an essay about the annunciation to Mary. Nodding inwardly to the idea of saying yes to God as she did. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Lk 1.38)
	Suddenly there is a shift inside me, and the enormity of saying yes to God makes my insides turn over. Mary was saying yes to all of it, without knowing what she was in for. It was her trust that defined her openness to whatever God had in mind by selecting her to be the bearer of Jesus.
	What about my yes? It is not real if it is not yes to everything.
	Everything?
	My death? 
	The deaths I don’t want to face that are sure to come, of people I’m close to?
	The suffering, both my own and the suffering of everyone everywhere?
	Yes to all of it. That is a big yes. 
	Many mornings I repeat the Prayer of Welcome that has changed my life. It has gently but perceptibly pushed anxiety and fear into the wings and placed a peaceful trust center stage. Here is the prayer by Thomas Keating:

Welcome, welcome, welcome.
I welcome everything that comes to me today because I know it’s for my healing.
I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions,
persons, situations, and conditions.
I let go of my desire for power and control.
I let go of my desire for affection, esteem,
approval, and pleasure.
I let go of my desire for survival and security.
I let go of my desire to change any situation, condition, person, or myself.
I open to the love and presence of God
and God’s action within.
Amen.

         I know that this prayer probably seems odd to a lot of devout people. Why would we welcome every single thing? What about evil? Why pledge not to change anything that needs changing?
	The idea is not to wish bad things upon ourselves or anyone else. It is simply to acknowledge the reality of our world and to open our hearts to the healing that can happen through both joy and suffering. God’s love actually comes to us more vividly in the midst of our suffering, if we can open our hearts to it. 
	The part about not changing anything is not about eschewing our work for justice or giving up on disciplining ourselves or our children to be better. It is about giving up the desire and the impulse to change them ourselves. Opening up to the love of God and God’s action within leads to the kind of change we need more than anything we can imagine on our own.
	This prayer is teaching me to be receptive to life itself and to God’s presence in every single part of it, like it or not. It is helping me to avoid judging others (mostly!) or myself (mostly!) so that I can acknowledge God’s wisdom and ways working in all of us, and in all circumstances, even if I can’t detect it. 
	Not that it is easy. But like any spiritual practice, consistent use of the prayer enables me to internalize its truth. So when unexpected things happen or bad news arrives, there is a part of me that can accept it and open myself up to it, if only a little bit more than I would otherwise.
	An example. During the pandemic, I had a car accident within a half block of our house. I didn’t see a car approaching from the right (it was behind that brace between the windshield and the side of the car), and I turned left right into her driver’s side door. Rats. There goes my insurance premium—cha-ching! But I pulled into our driveway. We introduced ourselves quite civilly, and I invited Carol to sit on a lawn chair while we waited for the police to arrive. The Prayer of Welcome came to mind, and I sent up a flash prayer of “Really? I’m supposed to welcome this??” But I was able to stay calm, and the usual paperwork, etc. progressed. 
	That is not to say that I react to every stressful situation with Buddha-like calm. Just ask my husband. But I see life differently than I did a few years ago when I first started using the prayer. Beginning each day with receptivity to what it will bring makes a big difference.
But that is life. What about death? Can I say yes to my death, and mean it? Can I say yes to the suffering and death of people I love? 
         In the past few years I have been coming to terms with the inevitability of my death, and what it means, how it might play out, when it might happen, but mostly just the fact of it. Each year that I get older, I must face it: I will die. 
         The Prayer of Welcome has had an impact on my perspective in a way I haven’t expected. That openness to “the love and presence of God and God’s action within” has enabled me to perceive the reality and enormity of God’s love more deeply. I see love active everywhere, even in tears and suffering, because God is there. Not watching. In it. 
         And when the time comes for me to leave this part of life—because it is only a part of what is real—Love will take hold of me. I will recognize it as the home from whence I came in the first place. Even if I suffer at the end, it will not last, and Love will not leave me to endure by myself. Then Love will take my hand and lead me to the next part.
         Not that I want it to happen today. But I will say yes today and realize that it could. I will say yes to all of it, every single part. Because, like Mary, I can say as much yes as I can right now, and live into every yes to come, because I trust Love, trust God, to be in it with me. 

Image copyright Deb Mechler.