I was received the incredible blessing of being a mother with my first daughter, Katherine (of Katherine and the Monastery fame).
I was breath-taken by her. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and I was overwhelmed by the tidal wave of love that came crashing down on top of me as I held that little pink bundle in my arms. This is something you read about all the time: the awesome strength of a mother's love. I knew the in's and out's of the science, and understood it in theory but to feel it, be consumed by it, utterly powerless to it was a completely different experience. It was exhilarating and terrifying. How could one LOVE so immediately and deeply? And also, how could I ever live freely again? I wanted to crush her to me, protect her from the world--there is so much out there, and it was just broken, helpless me between her and everything else.
It is in those moments of anxiety and fear that I am so thankful for the faith in which my parents raised me. In the moments where I am tangled up in my thoughts, I have the strength of the church behind me, in front of me, and all around me.
My childhood memories involved peering into choir music by candlelight next to my mother, the smell of incense, the tinkle of bells of a passing censor, oil lamps and loaves of bread, prayers in whisper and upraised voices, the mystery of sacrament, surrounded by saints in icons.
Icons! Every room of my house growing up, and every place where I have lived since has been decorated by icons, and it was an icon given to my little baby, that she might begin her life protected by the saints. I hope when she is older, she can think back and feel as I did, struggling to emulate those blessed souls depicted in icon.
This particular icon is special because it's a copy of one written by my father. We kept it in Katherine's crib, and now that she has her own big girl bed, she keeps it with her nestled in with her pillows. If you would like to see the original, it is in the sanctuary of St. Basil Greek Orthodox Church in San Jose, California.
With the birth of each of my daughters, my mother made them each their own icon pillow.
It's small enough for a child to hold, and easy to clean, just handwash and air dry. Katherine's pillow, especially, even though she's had it for over five years now, only shows the slightest wear on the icon print because ... well, my girls are particularly rough with their possessions. My youngest baby, in particular, would spend pre-nap times in her crib babbling at her Panagia icon, sometimes pausing to shriek with laughter. I always wondered what they were saying to one another.
For the Sunday of Orthodoxy, I am particularly grateful for these pillow icons because they don't clatter to the floor with an ear-splitting CRACK! when tiny hands slip or stumble. Light weight and squishy, they're the perfect comfort hug for night time snuggles or when feeling upset, anxious or sick.
It can be put in incubators for babies in NICU, or given as gifts for baptisms and churchings. May your babies first gift be that of an icon! They are available for custom order through our store now. Panagia be with you, always.
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