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a Lenten retreat with the Myrrhbearers

4 Comments

Myrrhbearers is a mouthful of a word. It makes you pause in wonder. What could it hold? How could it hold you?

I discovered the Myrrhbearers from the Magi. As I worked on my Epiphany retreat, I delighted in digging down theological rabbit holes.

Researching the meaning of myrrh was one I couldn’t resist. What was the symbolism of the gifts the magi brought? Where did myrrh come from? What was it used for?

Suddenly a strange word appeared on my screen: Myrrhbearers.

Icons and imagery abounded, showing the holy women who brought oil and spices to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. I dove into the rich tradition of Orthodox Christianity around the Myrrhbearers, and how this group of saints is honored each Easter.

But beyond the history and art and spirituality, the word itself grabbed me.

The more I learned about the Myrrhbearers, the more I saw the word as a gift in itself. I wanted to dwell with it and dive into the stories of the women and men who bear this holy name. Right now when the world feels dark, what light might they help us bear to each other?

Out of Epiphany was born this new retreat. I can’t wait to share it with you.

. . .

This retreat is designed to meet you halfway through Lent. Not the shiny start where everything seems possible. But the muddled middle, where you’ve given up on half your Lenten practices.

This is exactly where the Myrrhbearers are waiting to meet us.

They were real people too, with shortcomings and fears and failings. But they kept showing up, even when everything seemed darkest.

Exactly where God was waiting to surprise them.

. . .

The virtual retreat will run from March 11-14. Each evening we’ll gather on Zoom for an hour—to pray, reflect, learn, and listen together. You’ll have the option to stay for small group discussion, to deepen your reflection on Scripture and build community with others.

Retreat sessions will be recorded so you can go back and listen or catch up if you miss a day or two. The recordings will remain live for 30 days following the retreat, so you can return to them during Lent and into Easter.

During the rest of the retreat days, you’ll continue to pray with the resources in the companion e-book: Scripture, prayer, and reflections to take you beyond the four days of retreat.

The Myrrhbearers Companion Book offers a full guide through the entire season of Lent with reflections for each week. Simple enough to dip into (if you’ve already got a plan for prayerful reading through Lent) and deep enough to dwell within (if you’re still looking for inspiration).

Each week you’ll learn more about the women and men who knew Jesus intimately and followed him faithfully—from his days of ministry in Galilee to his suffering on the cross and the glory of the Resurrection.

. . .

The Myrrhbearers were saints and sinners, women and men, ordinary and extraordinary Christians. Their stories have shaken me awake and shown me a way forward through this hard year.

I want to share this with each of you. And I promise you this:

You will never hear the Easter stories the same way after you spend Lent with the Myrrhbearers. Their faith is fire and strength and courage—and we need it now.

Learn more about the Lent retreat and register here.

(And to read another story of myrrhbearing—and birth and death and new life—click here for The Holy Labor.)

“A myrrhbearer is anyone who is willing to bring comfort and solace to another. These women challenge us to leave our security and to put aside conventional thinking and rules in order to care for one another.”
(Sister Catherine Ward, I.H.M.)

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Vanessa Kirby says

    8 March 2021 at 10:13 am

    Hello

    Just seen this info about the retreat. Please would you send me the full details.

    Thanks

    Vanessa

    Reply
    • Laura says

      12 March 2021 at 8:27 am

      Hi Vanessa,
      You can find more info and register for the retreat here: https://laurakellyfanucci.com/events/
      Please let me know if you have any questions.
      Hope you can join us!

      Reply
  2. Marilyn Healey says

    11 March 2021 at 9:30 pm

    I just saw this retreat. Is it too late to join? Could you please send me info?

    Reply
    • Laura says

      12 March 2021 at 8:27 am

      No, it’s not too late to join the retreat! I just had several people register this morning. We had our opening session last night, but all sessions will be recorded and available for 30 days following the retreat, so you’ll be able to watch that one later.
      You can find more info and register for the retreat here: https://laurakellyfanucci.com/events/
      Please let me know if you have any questions.
      Hope you can join us!

      Reply

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About Laura

I’m Laura Kelly Fanucci. Mother, writer, wonderer. This space is where I explore mothering through writing. It’s where I celebrate how God shows up in the chaos of raising children. It’s where I love to build community with readers like you. Read More…

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thismessygrace

Mother, writer, wonderer.
Seeker of God in chaos & life with kids.
Author of Everyday Sacrament & Grieving Together.
Glimpses of grace & gratitude.

thismessygrace
I want to tell you what it means to weep with thos I want to tell you what it means to weep with those who weep.

It means you will be changed. You must be changed.

Weeping with those who weep does not mean passing the thin Kleenex of your pity.

Nor does it mean steamrolling their grief with your opinion.

Nor does it mean telling them to pull themselves up, be strong, or get over it.

It means you plunk yourself down next to them, quiet yourself, listen and let yourself be moved.

Which means changed. Which means converted.

This is why the exhortation is holy. Why we call it God’s Word and not just A Nice Thing To Do.

We read Romans 12 at our wedding. “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Had we known then what we know now, would we have spoken words of weeping on a day of rejoicing?

Absolutely.

Our calling as Christ-followers is to be transformed by the suffering of others—and to do what we can to lessen their pain. We are here to live the breadth and depth and sorrow and joy of what it means to be human.

If you see the staggering sorrow around you and wonder where to start, sit down near the mourning, quiet yourself, listen and let yourself be moved. What they want most is to be heard and honored, supported and seen.

Weep with those who weep.

Do not seek to minimize, justify, or dismiss. Do not seek to save yourself from the mess. You are already part of it.

But you can be part of the healing, too. When you weep with those who weep.

Then ask God to show you what to do next.
Where can a mother go to grieve? She craves comfo Where can a mother go to grieve?

She craves comfort for body and soul. She seeks the sanctuary of safe space. She wants the wisdom of women who have walked this way before. She needs time to honor her love, remember her child, and wrestle with her grief.

This May, I want to offer this space of solace.

Oasis is a virtual retreat for grieving mothers. On May 1-2 (Bereaved Mother’s Day), we’ll gather to create a place of prayer and support.

In the comfort of our own homes, we’ll reflect with simple, creative practices to connect with God, each other, and our children. Together we’ll share Scripture, small groups, and space for reflecting in peace and quiet.

We’ll drink from the Word. We’ll find beauty in art and song.

We’ll learn from other mothers who understand the loss of a child.

We’ll keep finding a way in the wilderness together.

Oasis is a crossroads of connection on our journey. A place where we can pause and be refreshed. A moment’s rest where we can seek God’s peace and presence.

You can make this retreat right in the middle of your life, joining us for as much as you need.

Registration is now open on my website. Sliding scale fees & scholarships are available if you need. You can also gift the retreat to a grieving mother you love.

Whether you lost a baby before birth or a child in adulthood, your story matters here.

Step into the comfort of Oasis.

#griefsupport #grievingmother #griefretreat #childloss
Coming to you Friday morning. A big piece of my he Coming to you Friday morning. A big piece of my heart, ready to welcome you in.

Today as I sit in quiet anticipation, I’m remembering echoes of The Day Before.

The day before birth, waiting and wondering whether baby was on the way.

The day before death, hoping and praying for peace and the power of a miracle.

Tomorrow holds slivers of birth and death, all woven together, tight to my heart.

It’s a new creation I’ve dreamed about for years, but never got to bring to life until now.

Most importantly, it’s my prayer to you—that you know you aren’t alone in the broken places.

Coming soon.
The year after our daughters died was filled with The year after our daughters died was filled with stunning skies.

Violet sunsets and rosy dawns. Navy stormclouds and lavender evenings. Buttercream wisps and pewter fogs.

I spent hours that year craning my eyes up, tilting my head back to take in the wide view. Had I never looked up before, never noticed the shifting seasons in the stars?

The world was ripped open, jarring and raw—but the year of violet skies was a sole beauty.

Grief can peel back parts of existence you did not know before. We call it darkness or depression, heaping layers of shadow upon realities that reach beyond words. But what it is runs deeper: the gold-flecked vein of life cutting through the gray stone of loss.

We are shining. We are barely scraping by.

As spring unfurls into shocking buds and pale green hope, I keep remembering that wild palette of horizons five years gone.

Bruised skies, slashing rains. Watercolor sunsets bleeding into night. A pale peach sunrise so breathless and perfect I thought it might be the last on earth.

And then it wasn't. And then the next day rose and set anew. Life keeps going, even when ours stops. Equal parts blessing and curse.

We get to choose so little of what happens to us. But we have the power to notice.

Seeing can be enough to save a life.
Spent Holy Saturday musing on mothering & grief. H Spent Holy Saturday musing on mothering & grief. How birth can be like death (and death like birth). How food can become Love.
Easter Monday is for the rest of us. The slow to Easter Monday is for the rest of us.

The slow to believe.
The skeptics. The doubters.

The ones who can’t run to see for themselves.

The stuck. The uncertain.
The lost or forgotten.

The quiet who shy away from the crowds.

Easter was spotlights and sugar and singing. But remember: this season is only beginning.

You are not too late, too lost, or too gone.

You’re part of the reason this long way rolls on.

So if you rise grateful—that holiday’s over—or if you sink deeper, dreading the dawn:

Today (and tomorrow, all 50 days after) are here to remind you that this road is long.
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