There are few places in the world where I feel closer to God than the Portiuncula chapel on the campus of Franciscan University. Tucked away amidst the trees, it’s a space of quiet and calm, a place where countless prayers have been lifted up to heaven. It’s where I’ve often found peace, direction, and reassurance from the Lord. But one visit stands out above the rest.
A few years ago, I was on campus for a conference. The day was hot and humid, with a storm rolling in. As thunder rumbled and rain poured down, I stayed put. Right there on the bench. Looking up at the Blessed Mother. Despite the downpour, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. The burdens I carried felt far too heavy. My heart was tired, stressed, and burned out. Even as I joined in the joy of the conference, my mind was preoccupied with situations that seemed hopeless, only growing darker with time.
Yet, in the stillness of that stormy afternoon, something changed.
Sitting alone in the grotto, rain soaking me to the bone (and yes, even ruining my cell phone), I experienced an indescribable peace. With only the sound of the rain and the occasional clap of thunder, I felt a profound presence—loving, comforting, and tender. It was as though Our Lady herself had taken me into her arms and whispered, “Rest, my son. Do not worry.”
I will never forget that moment. Everything else seemed to fade away. The weight I had carried into that sacred space no longer mattered. It was the first time I truly understood what it means to call Mary “Mother.” Beyond doctrines and teachings, I experienced her maternal love in a deeply personal way—a love that embraced me and filled my heart right where I was.
In that moment, the significance of Jesus’ words from the Cross became vividly clear: “Behold your son.” And to the beloved disciple, “Behold your Mother.” (John 19:26-27). Even in His final moments, Christ’s love was so abundant that He gave us His own Mother. Scripture tells us that the beloved disciple “took her into his home,” and as disciples today, we are invited to do the same.
To take Mary into our homes means more than just acknowledging her role in salvation history. It means inviting her maternal love into our hearts and allowing her to lead us closer to her Son. Like any faithful mother, her greatest desire is to draw us nearer to the source of true peace—the peace that surpasses all understanding—Jesus Christ.
Reflecting on that rainy day in the grotto, I can only marvel at the gentle love of Our Blessed Mother. She meets us in our struggles, takes our burdens into her own heart, and gently points us toward hope. She reminds us that we are never alone, even when life feels overwhelming.
Wherever you find yourself today—whether you are tired, burned out, or carrying the weight of the world—know that you have a Mother who loves you. Turn to her in prayer, and let her lead you to the heart of her Son, the one who offers rest to the weary and hope to the hopeless. Let her maternal embrace remind you that you are loved, cherished, and never abandoned.
May we, like the beloved disciple, take Mary into our homes and into our hearts. And may she lead us always to Jesus, the source of all peace.