Mary

Lord, 

My mother didn’t mean
To hurt me –
She simply had a child,
Then didn’t cope.

She didn’t have the qualities 
I needed,
So I grew up with her,
But without hope. 

She managed me
By trying to control me
With condemnation, fury,  
Screaming, blame.        

She damaged me 
By pouring out resentment;
I ended up with trauma, 
Fear, and shame. 

But now you give me Mary
For my mother –
The finest woman
Who will ever live; 

So every day I thank you 
For Our Lady, 
Who prays that we will heal, 
Love, and forgive. 

References

When Jesus saw his mother standing there beside the disciple he loved, he said to her, “Dear woman, here is your son.” And he said to this disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from then on this disciple took her into his home (John 19:26-7; NLT). 

They all met together and were constantly united in prayer, along with Mary the mother of Jesus (Acts 1:14; NLT). 

From now on all generations will call me blessed (Luke 1:48; NLT).