Throughout my life, I have had an image indelibly ingrained in my brain of a young woman, a girl really, compliant, humble, quiet and full of grace. She is content to let life happen to her and doesn’t question her fate. Instead, she has a radiant glow about her as she gently glides through her life. I’m not even sure she has legs, truth be told. That’s how glide-y she is. Who is this girl? That would be Mary, the mother of Jesus. The 13-year old perfect heroine. The young woman who never raises her voice, even when she has lost her 12-year old son (keep in mind, that makes…