There is a unique kind of exhaustion that comes from navigating a world not built for your brain. But there is also a unique, breathtaking joy when you find someone who just gets it.

As the Feast of the Visitation (31 May) approaches, I have been reflecting on that profound moment of connection between Mary and Elizabeth. It wasn’t a formal, rigid meeting. It was a lived moment of shared understanding, safety, and unmasked joy.

(Note: While the Feast of the Visitation traditionally falls on 31 May, this year it is liturgically superseded by Trinity Sunday. Whether celebrated in corporate worship or kept in the quiet sanctuary of personal prayer, the grace of the story remains just as close.)

My latest hymn grounds this sacred story right here in the landscape of the Irish Midlands—where the Barrow flows and the winds move through the meadowsweet. It reminds us that grace doesn’t demand we change who we are; it meets us exactly where we are.

Your Spirit stirred in hidden grace
within the child she bore;
and joy leapt forth to fill the place
of doubt and fear before.

Why the Visitation Speaks to the Neurodivergent Experience:

The Relief of the “Unmasked” Space: When Mary reached Elizabeth, the heavy burden of carrying a massive, world-changing reality in isolation vanished. Elizabeth didn’t question, judge, or demand explanations. She simply mirrored Mary’s joy. We all need those “Elizabeth spaces” where we can drop the mask and just be.

Joy in the “Hidden Grace”: So much of the neurodivergent experience is internal, unseen by the outside world. Like the “hidden grace” stirred in the womb, our unique insights, deep passions, and ways of feeling the world are deeply sacred, even when they are quiet or invisible to others.

A Different Kind of “Haste”: The hymn speaks of “the haste that Mary knew—a service born of joy.” This isn’t the frantic, overwhelming hustle of burnout culture. It is the hyper-focused, energized momentum that comes when we are aligned with our true purpose and community.

This season, I pray that you find your rivers of peace, your moments of quiet awe, and the people who make your heart leap with recognition and safety.

Where do you find your places of “hidden grace” and connection? Let me know in the comments.

O God, who lifts the lowly ones

1.
O God, who lifts the lowly ones
and scatters all our fear,
we praise the mercy of your Son
made flesh and dwelling near.
Through Laois’s fields young Mary came,
your promise in her stride;
the curlew rose to sound your name
by Barrow’s silver tide.

2.
Your Spirit stirred in hidden grace
within the child she bore;
and joy leapt forth to fill the place
of doubt and fear before.
Like Midlands winds through meadowsweet,
your blessing moved with power;
till hearts, in quiet awe, could meet
the wonder of that hour.

3.
For you bring down the proud of heart
and raise the poor who cry;
your steadfast mercies never part
from those who walk nearby.
As swans glide still on Barrow’s bend
and linnets stitch the air,
so love must shape the lives we tend
with patient, tender care.

4.
Teach us the haste that Mary knew—
a service born of joy;
to walk the paths you call us to,
our gifts in love employ.
Till yellow‑flag along the streams
and fields of Kildare shine,
may Christ, the Light of all our dreams,
make every step a sign.

An island-wide version

An Irish Landscape

While the original hymn belongs to the fields and rivers of my immediate home in the Midlands, I wanted to open the doors a little wider. This version keeps the distinctively Irish flora, fauna, and atmosphere—the curlews, the linnets, and the meadowsweet—but removes the specific county and river names. It is offered as a gift for any parish or community across Ireland to sing, allowing them to map their own local corners onto Mary’s journey.

1.
O God, who lifts the lowly ones
and scatters all our fear,
we praise the mercy of your Son
made flesh and dwelling near.
Through quiet fields young Mary came,
your promise in her stride;
the curlew rose to sound your name
by rivers green and wide.

2.
Your Spirit stirred in hidden grace
within the child she bore;
and joy leapt forth to fill the place
of doubt and fear before.
Like island winds through meadowsweet,
your blessing moved with power;
till hearts, in quiet awe, could meet
the wonder of that hour.

3.
For you bring down the proud of heart
and raise the poor who cry;
your steadfast mercies never part
from those who walk nearby.
As swans glide still on water’s bend
and linnets stitch the air,
so love must shape the lives we tend
with patient, tender care.

4.
Teach us the haste that Mary knew—
a service born of joy;
to walk the paths you call us to,
our gifts in love employ.
Till yellow‑flag along the streams
and lanes of clover shine,
may Christ, the Light of all our dreams,
make every step a sign.

A universal version

A Song for Every Journey

The Barrow is my river. The curlew is one of the voices of my own landscape. But grace is never confined to a single place. Wherever you are reading this, there are rivers, birds, pathways, and people through whom God speaks.

The need for an “Elizabeth space”—a sanctuary of safety, unmasking, and deep recognition—is not bound by geography. For our global NeuroDivine community and the wider church around the world, this version strips away specific regional boundaries entirely. By focusing on universal images of hills, rivers, wild birds, and changing seasons, it becomes an open invitation for any weary traveller, anywhere, to find a home in these words.

1.
O God, who lifts the lowly ones
and scatters all our fear,
we praise the mercy of your Son
made flesh and dwelling near.
Through quiet hills young Mary came,
your promise in her stride;
the songbird rose to sound your name
above the valley wide.

2.
Your Spirit stirred in hidden grace
within the child she bore;
and joy leapt forth to fill the place
of doubt and fear before.
Like sudden winds through summer fields,
your blessing moved with power;
till hearts, in quiet awe, could yield
to wonder in that hour.

3.
For you bring down the proud of heart
and raise the poor who cry;
your steadfast mercies never part
from those who walk nearby.
As wild birds rest upon the wind
and rivers trace the land,
so love must shape the lives we tend
with patient, guiding hand.

4.
Teach us the haste that Mary knew—
a service born of joy;
to walk the paths you call us to,
our gifts in love employ.
Till wildflowers line the dusty ways
and paths of safety shine,
may Christ, the Light of all our days,
make every step a sign.

Hymn information 

First line: O God, who lifts the lowly ones
Text: Br Michael CSB
Metre: DCM
Tune: Resignation

Copyright

© Michael McFarland Campbell. 2026. 
Permission granted for local church or parish use with attribution. Not for commercial reproduction.

Written recently and shared here as part of the NeuroDivine hymn collection.