This statue of the Blessed Mother with baby Jesus recently came to me from my aunt. Before her, it belonged to my grandmother and great-grandmother. We're not sure of anything before that. Traditionally, it has been handed down to the eldest daughter in the family, but none of my cousins wanted it so my aunt sent it to my mother to see if any of her daughters wanted it. I got first crack at it because I am the eldest, and oh yes, I wanted it.
What my aunt didn't know is that I collect images of the Blessed Mother. The collection began with an image that belonged to my father's mother, so of course I am delighted to have the statue that belonged to my other grandmother. Interestingly, both grandmothers had images that are of a mother with a baby -- not Mary with a halo or Mary and a grown Jesus wearing halos. Just a mom with her child. I particularly like that this is a very young woman whose hip is cocked a little to accommodate the weight of her baby boy. She looks like every young mother, everywhere, throughout time.
When my brother and I went to the Mexican marketplace in LA, I looked for just the right image of Mary to add to my collection. I was a little disappointed not to find the right thing, but now I understand that it was because the right one was already on its way to me. There's a life lesson in there somewhere.