Dear Friends, I'm sharing a poem I recently wrote. Blessings, Anna

Note to Jesus from a Woman in Cana

by Anna Cotton

You would have thought she was the bride the way she glowed.
My mom,the gifted storyteller, was thrilled to have an attentive audience
for her every detailed description of dress, and meal, and future grandchildren.

Me, I was just the bride. My role was to smile and nod.
I wasn't meant to be heard.

Though in that silence I noticed a lot
like the threatening buzz of bees around empty jars
like the stewards discussing the problem
like your mother seeing what my distracted one missed
and calmly directing the servants to do your bidding.

Of course it's gone down in history how you said it wasn't your time,
but you did something anyway.
And what a something--turning water into wine!
My handsome Jacob had no answer to the question,
"Why have you saved the best for last?"

But his words have become Mom's favorite part of the wedding story,
which she recites often.

My favorite part wasn't so much about the wine.
It was watching you respond to a wise woman, your own mother,
as she whispered,  "Now is the time. You can start here."

All of us who were truly thirsty began to drink.