The Intentional Visitation: Being Both Mary and Elizabeth
Years ago, before the world shut down and people began working from home, I had an office that sported a comfy orange chair (mid-century modern colors are my thing), an electric tea kettle, several mugs with pithy and/or comforting sayings on them, lots of tea, and a soft lighting scheme to pull it all together.
It was my cozy corner in a wing of a building that was constantly in a state of chaos and stress. 2 p.m. became teatime for me—and, as word leaked out about my little oasis, anyone else who needed a getaway. You didn’t have to have a cup of tea; you could just stop by to catch your breath. A few weeks after the chair arrived, that space grew into more than a solitary retreat spot; it morphed into a sacred space where intentional Visitation moments happened.
The Model
Each time I read the story of the Visitation (Luke 1: 39-66), I am reminded that we are not meant to do life alone. We long to belong, and we need community. But sometimes relationships, especially female relationships, can be messy. If you, like me, have had a difficult time navigating them, having a holy model in the Visitation can be an incredible gift. Mary and Elizabeth show us how to do female relationships: Create a sacred space where each can spend intentional time with the other, honor the gifts the Lord has given each woman, and serve one another from a place of love—all with Christ at the center.
In my own life, the Visitation has been my go-to story for inspiration and encouragement. Encounter Grace, a women’s ministry I co-founded with my dear friend, Penny Bailey, was based on the Visitation. We wanted to create a place where women of all stages, seasons, and faith journeys could come together, with Christ at the center. This beautiful story of two women serving the other, just as they are, informs my writing and mentoring relationships to this day.
Sharing the Ordinary
I often wonder what those conversations between Mary and Elizabeth were like during the three months they spent together. It was Mary’s first trimester and Elizabeth’s third. Of course they spoke of holy things that I will never experience, but as they were women, I can’t help but imagine they spoke of how funny life is and all the ordinary things that pregnant women speak of.
I envision Mary asking Elizabeth to share her early pregnancy experiences: “Did you have morning sickness? Is what I’m feeling normal? When did your ankles start to swell? When did you feel your baby move the first time?”
And, because Elizabeth was genuinely interested and loved Mary, I can’t help but think that she asked not only of her practical next steps but her hopes and dreams for when she returned home to face all that would come her way. Perhaps they even shared moments where they bonded over the reality that their children would be cousins: “Will they look alike? Will they be best friends?”
Here is where I think the beauty of the Visitation lies: They were two women of different ages sharing the journey through an extraordinary season. Mary, in true humility, brought compassion and care to Elizabeth, honoring her wisdom and courage. She wanted to sit at her feet and learn all she could.
Elizabeth did two things: she allowed Mary, the Mother of Our Lord, to serve her, and she provided a safe place for Mary to retreat when she needed to take a breath. They took care of each other, sharing their unique story and circumstances, holding space for the other, being intentionally present to the other as they processed what was on their hearts.
They created a community within a community. And that larger community, which included a mute Zechariah, was watching it all unfold.
Space Is Sacred, and Stories Matter
My orange chair became the place for people to go to talk about what was on their heart. Most of the people I worked with were much younger than I, but they still sought me out and included me in their work world. As a woman who rarely feels like she fits anywhere, being “let in” was an unexpected outcome of having a peaceful office—or, as one friend put it, “It’s kind of become a sacred space here in the building. Not quite the Chapel, but a close second.”
I’d often sit at my desk, sipping my tea, listening and leaning in while they chatted away. Learning their stories helped me to know how better to honor and serve them: Did they want my opinion or need help processing a work or personal matter? Or, did they just need a place where they could safely give voice to all that needed to be said and shared? Often, it was my ear they needed, not my words. It was a privilege to listen to their stories, and much like Mary and Elizabeth did for each other, I vowed to keep it all close to my heart.
As I listened, I learned so much. From the younger women, I was let in on the realities of their day-to-day professional lives, their dating ups and downs, their faith journeys, and how they perceived and were received by the Church. There were women my own age as well—and a few who were a generation ahead of me. I learned their experiences of the work world as a woman in a certain age group—how they, too, were received or dismissed within the walls of their homes, the office, the church, and the Church.
Each generation had its own path. I often felt this sacred space we created together allowed us both to reach back to the next generation and to reach out to the one who came before, bridging a gap.
Stories matter. Sometimes, we cried. Often, we prayed. Laughter spilled out into the hallway—but only if the door was open. Most of the time, they wanted to close it and enjoy the soft lighting, the comfortable orange chair, and the tap, tap, tap of my fingers flying over my keyboard while they sipped their tea.
In those moments, the sacred space moved from an orange chair to a shared heart space. But we had to let the other in, literally and figuratively, for that to happen. Just as Elizabeth welcomed Mary, I had to be open and present to whatever each woman brought through that door. And they did the same for me.
I See Christ in You
Today, if you were to ask any of those women about teatime, I’m sure the younger ones would say it was time well spent and that they learned about life and how to navigate it. The ladies who were my age and older might say it was a time of honest sharing, a rarity in the workplace these days.
It’s a humble brag, mind you, because in reality, they gave much more than they received.
This particular group of women was incredibly inspiring as they navigated relationships and their vocations, their professional interests, and their creativity—all while being faithful to the Church. I was in awe of how they managed difficult conversations, always speaking hard truths in love. I marveled at how they lived out their faith in the world they were in, but not of. They taught me much—both in our discussions and how they behaved—about what it means to be a Beloved Daughter. They were (are!) stellar examples of what it looks like to bring the feminine genius to the workplace.
Those insights helped me grow in my faith and to understand myself in terms of my own giftedness and what I have to offer the world. To this day, they remain my biggest cheerleaders, as I am for them.
When we acknowledge and honor what the woman right in front of us brings to the world, we no longer see age or stage or season; we only see Christ in the other. We are like Mary, who saw the Lord’s handiwork in Elizabeth’s pregnancy. She magnified the Lord with this “yes” that only she could offer. This magnification, this Christ in us that we project into the world, is what compels us to honor and serve.
What Can I Get You?
As I am writing this article, the idea that I might have been Mary to an Elizabeth at some point in my life is fascinating. I’ve always seen myself more in Elizabeth than in Mary, as I have most often been the oldest in the places I’ve worked. And yet, when we take age out of the equation, anyone can be Mary or Elizabeth, depending on the circumstances.
When Elizabeth received Mary, she created a sacred space for her to come and rest. In doing so, she honored who Mary was and what she brought, both figuratively and literally, to the world. But it was Mary who went to Elizabeth with the intention to help, to journey with her during a difficult season, anticipating her needs and honoring what she brought to the world. So, in these two women, who were decades apart in age, we see a give and take. Putting aside their own aches, pains, hurts, sorrows, and joys, they each willingly met the other’s needs.
This is what it looks like to serve the other with Christ at the center.
There is another component to serving the other, though: to recognize when you have done what you are called to do and it is time to let them continue without you. Mothers do this with their children, but as women, it can be hard to do in relationships with other women. Perhaps it is out of fear, or confusion, or the feeling that we are being left behind as they go on. Nonetheless, if we are to honor and serve the other, we have to let go when it is time. To hold on is to hold them back.
We are meant to journey with only a very few for the long haul. Those relationships are rare, and they are exquisite. Visitation relationships are for a shorter time and for a specific reason. We show up, we visit, we share our heart, we heal, we serve, we love in the moment.
Then, we head home to do what must be done next with a heart filled to overflowing. When we return—to our own office, to our home, to our life—after a Visitation moment, people notice the change in us. Just as Elizabeth and Zechariah’s neighbors marveled at everything they saw (Luke 1:65-66), our Visitation moments have a ripple effect on the people in our life, too.
Creating Your Own Intentional Visitation
You don’t need to have an orange chair to have your own version of an intentional Visitation. Or so I’ve learned. I left that job in that office well over five years ago and I still have many moments of being both Mary and Elizabeth to women all over the world, building a community within a community. Sometimes, we are together for a brief time. Sometimes, we journey together for an extended season. Regardless of the length of time, who is involved, and whether they are professional or personal in nature, these intentional Visitations share the same elements:
They are intentional in both time given and space held for the other.
They honor the gifts and belovedness of the other, seeing Christ in each other.
They serve from a place of humility, seeking to walk alongside the other for as long as she needs, knowing when to let go, move on, and let the overflow happen.
Mary, Mother Most Amiable, pray for us. St. Elizabeth, pray for us. All you holy men and women, pray for us.
Through her speaking and writing, Laura Roland encourages women to understand their God-given talents and how they can reconnect with their purpose in life—no matter the season or stage they are in—taking a close look at how they use those gifts in the ordinary everyday moments of their lives.