Never did she notice damp limestone walls steamed with moisture by nearby oxen breath... neither did she mind the huddled sheep's baas nudging one another by the horse's stall neither did she shoo chickens' loud fervor clucking, clucking for coming time to roost nor did it matter upon a hay's mat warmed by wee lambs for a long night's labor woman's work birthed in this cave's shelter nothing new to happenings in a barn flickering lamp, waiting as long hours passed no surprise for creatures knowing darkness only as the new morning light outside crept into dark morning's sudden, soft cry did Mary sleep, her tiny babe at breast embracing new creation's light arrived, cosmic lit by angels and star above, quiet glow of tranquility and love bucolic scene, our Christmas card so grand, happiness and joy, singing in the land ... yet can we forget, as time and years roll, the prophet's words still nagging at our soul? "The ox knows its owner, and the ass its master's crib, but Israel does not know, (and the people of our land), God's people don't understand" [Isaiah 1:3] O, creation's Lord, bring us back again to glory a mother's baby began. ~ Virginia M. Kimball
“Tangiwai” is the title of this painting by Julia B. Lynch (1896–1975), daughter of Irish Catholic immigrants in New Zealand. Meaning “tears” in Māori, the picture clearly shows Mary weeping for the suffering of the Māori people and all of humanity – including her little boy, as she considers the messianic prophecies and wishes there was another way for salvation to be achieved, other than through the suffering and death of her child. Tangiwai, ca. 1945. St. Joseph’s Church, Hiruharama (Jerusalem), Wanganui River, New Zealand by Julia Bridget Lynch (Sister Mary Lawrence, RSM) (1896-1975), Te Puranga Atawhai Mercy Archives. By permission of Nga Whaea Atawhai o Aotearoa Sisters of Mercy New Zealand.