Breaking BVM News

Okay, it's not really breaking news because I bought this icon a couple of months ago. But it's news to you, since I totally forgot to tell you about it.

This is Our Lady of Vladimir, which was painted in Constantinople in the 11th or 12th century -- long before Constantinople became Istanbul. (Why'd they change it? I can't say. People just liked it better that way.) The icon was moved to the city of Vladimir, where folks built a cathedral to house it. It was later moved to Moscow, where a monastery was built to commemorate its arrival. It's an important icon in the Russian Orthodox church, is what I'm saying.

My particular icon was decoupaged onto a piece of wood by an unknown person and then given to a convent in the south of Rhode Island. I guess the nuns were doing some heavy spring cleaning this year because I bought it for six bucks at a consignment shop in Wakefield.

The original is credited with saving the Russian people time and time again. My copy probably isn't that powerful, but I still feel pretty confident that if any rude Tatar invaders show up, I'm good.

Mary In The Kitchen

This is my kitchen window, which holds two more Blessed Mother images. It's also home to a soap dispenser, the delft blue girl I brought from Holland for my grandmother (which I got back after she died) and a little blue and white bowl that holds my rings while I do dishes.


The candle is a Sacred Heart of Mary votive that I got at the grocery store. It says "Sagrado Corazon De Maria," and it's made in Mexico. It has the Mary's Magical Open Heart Surgery (With Flames) motif that totally freaked me out when I was a kid. But you know, you grow.


The other image to the right of the candle is more visible in the photo below:

It's a bread press. You press it down onto a slice of bread, and then once the bread is toasted or grilled, the image appears. Voila! Holy Toast.

The Other Grandmother's Blessed Mother

This was the first of my collection of Mary images. It belonged to my father's mother, and I took it (with permission) from her home after she died. It hung in her bedroom for as long as I can remember, so it's got to be at least 40 years old.

I'm sure it was a shock to poor Mary to leave my grandmother's house -- where dust was afraid to fall, and if it did, it was attacked and eradicated immediately -- and come to my house, where she is a little dusty more often than not. But I figure after everything the stories say she's been through, she's probably tough enough to handle it.

Awesome Rating: VERY High

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.