I’m late sending greetings for this day because the recent tradition in Beauchamp of having a parade has taken hold, and of course I was involved in the preparations and the parade itself, which was nowhere near the chaos of the first year’s parade (see “Christmas Parade” in Rained Out and Other Texas Holidays).
I say “of course” because Guadalupe is my first name, my saint’s name, and if I tried to sit out the public celebration of that saint, Father Emilio would tell my mother, and life would not be worth living. I would not offer such an insult to Our Lady, but I’d prefer a quieter, more personal observance. I’d be happy to join in the serenades like these, though.
But all Beauchamp came together to put on a parade both for la Virgen and Christmas in general, so once again everyone in town named Guadalupe, young and old, all genders, mounted rose-strewn floats to be trundled down Main Street to a celebration at the church. The image for this post shows some of those honored, appropriate for our all-embracing Mother.
Some call her “Mother of the World,” which makes sense when you think of how many appearances she has made around the globe. My devoted mother could have named all five of her children María, even her son, but instead she chose shrines where Our Lady appeared:
Candy (or Juke, as she wants to be called now) got two shrine names because Mamí suspected she wouldn’t get to use all her favorite shrines.
Just as Our Lady’s appearance in Mexico to an indigenous man in 1531 helped unite all peoples of Mexico, so her other visits bring the world together under the symbols of the lovely out-of-season roses Juan Diego brought to his bishop and the portrait of Our Lady they traced on his cloak. Mamí told me it meant Our Lady would always be with me and always available for help. You won’t see me at Mass every week, but I always keep my great-grandmother’s rosary with me to remind me of my mother’s words.
