Mysterion
This morning the Christmas lights continued to glow in the early morning light as I welcomed the dawn of a new day and a new year. Our neighborhood was clouded in a dense fog, making it impossible to look down the street, a reminder of how we cannot actually see past the present moment, much though we try to convince ourselves we can.
When I reflect on my own journey as a disciple of Jesus, I often see an image of Jesus and I on a hike in the Pacific Northwest. I follow Him down a path wandering through the cool woods, large pine trees towering up on either side of us and sweet, warm sunlight shining between the giants. As we walk, I am excited to see where Jesus is leading me, and I move my head to the side in an attempt to look around Him and glimpse what is to come. As I lean to the right, so does Jesus, blocking my view. I then lean to the left, as does Jesus, once again making it impossible for me to see what's ahead. Jesus has a little smile on His face and says quietly, "Just keep your eyes on me and follow in my footsteps."
I tend to be impatient as I await for the future to reveal itself and Jesus has to remind me over and over again,
Just keep your eyes on me and follow in my footsteps.
2025 was certainly an adventure with many surprising detours. Jason was laid off from a job he had for 25 years. Thankfully, he was hired for another job just a few months later. Then, after just a couple of months, we experienced another bump in the road when I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
As I try to peer down the road of 2026, I see an adventure that includes chemotherapy, radiation, hormone therapy, and another surgery.
While cancer and treatment are certainly difficult, I truly am excited to see what God has in store for us through this season. He has already done so much in the past four months. I know that He is walking very closely with me even when I may not feel or recognize His presence. Occasionally, He surprises me and allows me to feel His nearness.
Very often, He allows me to experience His love through others. Yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the kitchen making egg rolls with several of our children. As the children chopped, sauteed, and rolled egg rolls, we all sang together some of our favorite songs like Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga's "Die With a Smile."
I looked out the window at the sunny winter day and I knew that there was nowhere else in the world that I wanted to be. I knew that if the world was ending or if I was going to die tomorrow, I was surrounded by love and I was content.
Later in the day, our family attended Mass for the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God, a solemnity that has a special place in my heart. Ten years ago, Mary gave me a nudge during that same Mass. I was about three months pregnant with our fifth child. In the homily, the priest shared from the Gospel of John:
Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son!"
Then he said to his disciple, "Behold, your mother!"
And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.
I absolutely knew in that moment that Jesus had given His mother Mary to me, His disciple. I had probably been taught this before, but I did not know this truth in my heart until then. Suddenly, Mary was my own mother and I was completely astonished by the generosity of both Jesus in sharing His own mother with all of humanity and Mary's eternal yes, her fiat, to the will of her Son.
In the very next moment, the babe within my own womb leaped for joy. Well, the baby didn't really leap, but it was the first time during that pregnancy that I felt the baby move within me. It was a confirmation to me that the Holy Spirit was alive within me and that God was truly telling me that Mary was indeed my own mother, as she is for every disciple of Jesus, and wanted to have a relationship with me. Tears streamed down my face as I experienced this great love of God. Six months later we met our beautiful daughter, Maria Grace.
Since then, I have consecrated myself to Mary, Jason and I have consecrated our family to Mary, I have become part of the Militia Immaculata, and I have been enrolled in the scapular, as have many in our family.
I witnessed great devotion to Mary in my grandfather, Howard Swenson, or to me, Papa. Papa's wife, my grandmother, Mimi, began a yearly tradition of going to Lake Chelan for the Fourth of July when I was twelve years old, a tradition we still have over thirty years later. Papa came every year until just a few years ago. Every morning while at Lake Chelan, I would wake before my family to go out onto the deck with my Bible and pray. Every morning, Papa was already sitting in a chair on the deck in the morning sun with a cup of coffee, listening to the birds, rosary in hand, prayers on his lips.
One year, Papa gave me a small booklet of The Twelve Year Prayers of St Bridget of Sweden on the Passion of Jesus, a devotion he had for many years. St. Bridget is the co-patroness of all of Europe and was a wife, mother, and mystic. As Swensons, our heritage is from Sweden.
On the fourth Sunday of Advent, the Sunday of Advent with the theme of Love, my Papa passed away in the hospital as I watched him take his final breath. The night before, he was talking, smiling, ate a cheeseburger for dinner, and fell asleep. Somewhere in the night, he began to decline. That morning, we went to Mass and received the news that he was passing. I offered my Mass for him and once again prayed through the Mass with tears streaming down my cheeks. After Mass, I was able to go to the hospital and pray, tell him thank you, and say goodbye. At ninety-eight years old, he was ready for the journey home to Jesus and to be reunited with his wife. While it was a day of grieving for us, it was a day of rejoicing for him.
The day after his death, I found the booklet that Papa passed down to me years ago and once again, it feels like a grandparent is praying for me and leading me spiritually from heaven. I have taken up another devotion that he prayed so faithfully while here on earth.
Tomorrow morning is his funeral. Beforehand, I will have the honor of leading the rosary, a prayer that means so much to me and was passed down to me by my Papa.
Such is the mystery of living as a disciple. We do not see the tapestry of our lives woven by God except in retrospect. But we continue the journey, following in the footsteps of Christ, trusting that He knows the best course for us.
In Caryll Houselander's spiritual classic, The Reed of God, she reflects on Mary's fiat and reminded me the morning:
The remedy for fear is trust in God.
How simple. How difficult at times. How liberating. The freedom that comes from trust in God is truly a taste of heaven.
This year will be a year of healing, hope, restoration, and joy. Amid death, cancer, chemo, losing hair, radiation, hormone therapy, and surgery, there is great joy for He is near. Such is the mystery of the Christian faith. The cross brings Resurrection. This winter will be one of killing cancer cells, but spring and summer will come with new growth. The Lord has decided to pour out His healing and merciful love into my heart and into my body this year, and I am thankful.
