Our Lady Of Expectation

She carried him for nine months. She breastfed him, and her milk became the blood of God. She holds him in her arms and says, ‘My little one!’

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But I think there are also other fleeting moments when she feels that Christ is both her son, her little one, and that he is God. She looks at him and thinks: “This God is my child! This divine flesh is my flesh, He is made of me, He has my eyes and this shape of mouth, it is the shape of mine. He resembles me, He is God and He resembles me”.

Jean-Paul Sartre, Bariona.