At her feet: a collection for the month of Mary
- thefruitfulhollow
- 2 hours ago
- 3 min read
May is the month of Mary.
For many of us, that sentence lands differently depending on the season of life we're in. If you're in the thick of infertility, loss, or grief, the month of May can feel like a quiet ache, altars of flowers, images of mothers and children, a Church that seems to be celebrating something just out of reach. And yet, here she is. Our Lady. Waiting.
After five years of writing about Mother Mary — her titles, her sorrows, her intercession, her presence in the hardest corners of this journey — we wanted to gather some of our most beloved posts in one place, not as a tidy list, but as an invitation. Whether you are just beginning to know her, or you have walked with her through the darkest valleys, we hope something here meets you where you are.
And if your relationship with Mary is complicated? Good. You're in the right place. That's where most of us started, too.
For the woman who isn't sure she relates to Mary
We'll be honest: a lot of us came to this blog with a complicated relationship with Our Lady. She can feel too perfect, too serene, too much like a reminder of what we don't have. If that's you, we'd gently ask you to start here.Â
This post, the final piece of our Infertility Creed series, doesn't shy away from the tension. It names the paradox honestly and then, slowly, offers a way through it. It's the post we'd hand to a friend who said, "I just can't connect with her."
For the woman who is carrying too much
Some knots don't loosen, no matter how hard we pull. Infertility, loss, medical uncertainty, grief, they tangle together until it's hard to breathe. This reflection on one of Mary's most beloved titles is for you.Â
"Sisters, Our Lady is undoing those knots through the words and actions of those around us, gently tugging away, piece by piece, in God's time."
This one has stayed with us. It's honest about the frustration of not seeing Mary's hands at work and then quietly, beautifully, shows you where to look.
For the woman who is angry
Missing Mass because the pews were full of growing families. Lighting a candle through tears, praying nine Hail Marys out of obedience before anything else. This post begins in a place many of us know well.
Mary suffered. Deeply, repeatedly, without rescue. Meditating on her Seven Sorrows isn't an exercise in sadness; it's an invitation to stop suffering alone. If you've ever felt like your grief was too much for a God who seemed to be looking away, let Our Lady of Sorrows sit with you for a while.
For the woman who has experienced loss
These two posts are among the most tender things we've ever published. We return to them often.
A prayerful, practical guide for bringing your grief to the rosary. Mary knows what it is to hold a child and then let go.
Mary's fiat was not spoken in certainty; it was spoken in surrender. This post explores what it means to say yes when you don't know what you're saying yes to.
For the woman who wants to go deeper
Three years ago, we spent an entire year walking through the titles of Our Lady in a series we called Behold Your Mother.
Our Lady of Guadalupe. Our Lady, Star of the Sea. Our Lady of La Leche. Our Lady Undoer of Knots. Our Lady of Sorrows. And eight more. Each title is a different facet of the same Mother, and one of them just might be the one your heart has been looking for.
However you arrive at her feet this month, with devotion, with questions, or with a grief you haven't yet named, she has been waiting.
Blessed Mother, pray for us.