Incarnation (Lat: to make into flesh) 1.The union of divinity with humanity in Jesus Christ; 2. a particular physical form or condition of something or someone that is changing or developing; 3. A person who represents a quality very clearly (e.g., “the incarnation of kindness”)
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You felt her essence before seeing her. The atoms of the atmosphere danced. Fresh oxygen energized the air. Suddenly, laughter lilting through the room made sense of your senses: Mary had arrived.
While Mary’s effervescence enlivened any space she inhabited, it was never for show and never about her. She simply delighted in life and all the wondrous people in it. Joy sparkled in her eyes when she met someone, as if to remind each person of their own immeasurable worth and dignity.
I tell you her story because to me, she exemplifies how one ordinary person can live life at the highest level — and offer a truth you won’t find in a self-help book.
Along the way, the meaning and implications of incarnation emerge.
Mary was a family friend—the kind who becomes family. We crossed paths after she had emigrated from County Mayo, Ireland to Chicago and married Tom of County Galway, whom she’d met at one of the parish dances she loved so well.
Tom already owned an Irish music venue and pub when they met. His work schedule limited dating to Sundays after Mass. Two years into this ritual, Tom awkwardly proposed: “Well Mary, I’d say it’s time for your people to meet my people and make the arrangements.”
Five children later, Mary still laughed about their less than romantic moment. She found humor or redemption in any situation.
Mary likely absorbed that knack from her mother
…during the lean 1930s in County Mayo, Ireland. In certain ways, Mary’s mother reminded me of the father in the film “Life is Beautiful” who crafted brilliant stories to protect his son’s innocent spirit.
For when money woes led Mary’s father to take a job in England and the children lamented leaving their land and people, Mary’s mother framed the temporary move as a wonder-filled adventure granted only to a fortunate few.
In London, difficulty making ends meet meant taking in strangers as boarders. Again, Mary’s mother sold the bright side, describing how fascinating it would be to meet people with varied life stories and tales of travel! Each evening, she included the children in preparing and sharing a lovely table and meal with the boarders. Mary learned that diminished circumstances never diminish human dignity.
Even during the World War II London blackouts, their mother emboldened the family by telling Celtic hero stories in the dark. Mary learned to conquer fear.
Years later in Chicago…
I observed many ways Mary showed others what strength they could summon from within. When my priest brother and I set out to restore and reinvigorate an historic Chicago church, Mary not only volunteered and donated, but also quietly extended herself to the grieving, the lost, the lonely, the homeless, the hungry—and lifted them with companionship, resources and patient listening.
And when I was put through a major ordeal, Mary summoned me for tea. She caught me turning aside to hide tears, and insisted, “Look me in the eye. What is happening to you is unjust, intolerable and solvable. Don’t for one second allow it to dispirit you!” After our heart to heart, she’d send me messages, poems or prayer cards that were mystically spot on to the challenge before me that day.
Now, lest you picture Mary as pious and saintly, know that her mischievous nature inclined her more toward conducting “ministry” at her family pub, an Irish dance hall, or over a champagne brunch.
She was always fun!
No day could be squandered. Being alive was reason enough to celebrate.
When my father passed away too young, Mary began to kidnap my mother after Sunday Mass for a day of random adventure: perhaps “High Tea” downtown followed by a play or movie or shopping spree — much of it Mary’s treat. The escapades — accompanied by Mary’s rollicking laughter — were enough to make anyone forget their troubles.
Trouble landed on her own doorstep
…when her beloved Tom died suddenly. Mary defied death with gratitude. When I hugged her beside his casket she hushed my condolences with “Now didn’t he lead a grand life Mary Kay? And weren’t we so lucky to have had him?”
She wasn’t acting. She spoke from her unwavering certainty that death isn’t final. This was not the end of their story.
Florida antics
In the winters after Tom died, Mary would often accompany my mother to a family condo in Florida — out of friendship, and also to help my mother who was ten years her senior. Still, Mary always treated my Mom like her carefree wing-girl, driving her to the beach or seaside lunches — even for cosmetic counter makeovers!
One day, knowing my siblings were arriving for a week’s stay, my mother asked Mary to take her for new pajamas. The next morning, my mother appeared before everyone at the breakfast table in something resembling a 1930s Hollywood starlet’s full-length satin nightgown and robe. The glamorous get-up elicited wolf-whistles and laughter, with no one enjoying it more than my mother!
Quintessential Mary! Humor? Yes. But mostly an outrageously bold: Why Not??!
Why shouldn’t a beautiful nonagenarian with a good figure and a sense of fun look like a movie star? Was she supposed to give up glamour? Shuffle around in a hairnet and housecoat?
Mary didn’t believe in behaving, acting her age or giving up before you’re in the ground.
She believed in living vibrantly, loving extravagantly, and giving all you can till you breathe your last.
Music, dancing and laughter animated her soul. Family, friends and strangers opened her heart. And she felt awe before natural wonders: flowers, mountains, birds, stars — and most especially, the sea.
Perhaps it reminded her of Ireland.
One late afternoon in Florida, after chatting with the few people left on the beach, Mary decided there was time for one more swim before dinner.
And the sea took Mary home. . .
Mary expressed Incarnation by the way she lived: with the irrepressible joy of someone who understood that if God took on our humanity, then everything human is infused with divine possibility. That told her everything she needed to know about how to live, and about the immeasurable human capacity to be a gentle light of hope and a force of profound connection among people.
But even if you doubt the faith-based definition, Mary showed that when we incarnate our in-born talents and distinct attributes — fully inhabiting all we are — we offer love and inspiration to the world, and meet our moment in time.
Thanks for that magical story of a woman who was truly an incarnation of LIFE. And in telling her story, you shared a bit of yours, and that is a gift as well.
An amazing tribute to a truly wonderful person I will never forget. Loved reading this!!