When Trust Is All We Have: A Reflection on the Immaculate Conception and Loving Someone Through Confusion

This year’s celebration of the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception met me in a tender, aching place. As I listened to the homily, my heart kept drifting back to someone I love dearly, a woman whose entire life has been a living witness of faith, devotion, and trust in God. Yet now, in her suffering, confusion has become a daily companion. It is heartbreaking to watch, but it has also illuminated something beautiful about faith that I needed to hear more clearly today.

During the homily, the deacon reflected on the angel Gabriel’s message and Mary’s response: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done unto me according to your will” (Luke 1:38). That line has echoed through the centuries not because Mary understood everything God was doing, but because she did not. She could not. Yet she trusted. Mary’s yes was not built on clarity. It was built on surrender.

Her yes was not simple. It was costly. The deacon shared that God does not call us to only be as good as we can. He calls us to holiness, to union with Him, and He gives us grace through the sacraments to sustain us. Mary was conceived without sin so she could freely choose God’s will with her whole being. But that did not exempt her from suffering. Her yes came with uncertainty, misunderstanding from others, and a future she could not predict. Still she trusted. Still she said yes. Her choices did not remove suffering, but they made it bearable because she faced each moment anchored in God.

As I sat in Mass, I could not stop thinking of her, the one I love who now lives in a fog of confusion, who sometimes forgets the simplest things, yet never forgets to cling to God. When she prays, it is with childlike sincerity. When she blesses herself, it is slow and reverent. When she is afraid, she reaches for Jesus the way Mary must have reached for Him countless times. I see Mary in her more now than ever before, not in strength or clarity, but in surrender. Her suffering is real. Her confusion is painful to watch. And yet, beneath it all is a faith so deep that it humbles me. While her mind sometimes struggles, her heart remains pointed toward God with unwavering trust. She teaches me, without words, that holiness is not about the sharpness of our thoughts but the orientation of our hearts.

The Solemnity reminded me that grace is not a concept. It is a lifeline. We are not meant to carry suffering alone, whether it is our own or that of someone we love. Mary was preserved from sin not so her path would be easy, but so she could receive and cooperate with grace perfectly. Watching this woman who loves God with her whole being makes me realize how much we depend on grace when human strength falters. Her confusion does not diminish her faith. If anything, her trust in the middle of it mirrors Mary’s trust in the unknown.

There are days when I wish I could take away her suffering, clear the confusion, and restore what has been lost. But, maybe, the holier invitation is something different: to stand beside her the way Mary stands beside us, to say my own small yes when I do not understand, to trust that God is present even when the situation feels fragile and uncertain. Mary shows us that trust is not a feeling. It is a posture of the heart. And my loved one, through her quiet suffering, shows me what that looks like lived out.

Today reminded me that God’s will is not always clear, and His ways are not always easy. But He gives grace enough for the moment. He gave it to Mary. He gives it to her. And He gives it to me as I walk with her through this tender season. Maybe that is the beauty of the Immaculate Conception: not that Mary had all the answers, but that she showed us how to surrender even when we do not understand. Her yes makes my yes possible. Watching someone I love trust God in the midst of confusion teaches me that even in suffering, grace leads us gently forward.