To  have a child of any age die is heartbreaking.  And unless you have experienced that, you can’t begin to imagine the pain.  What was it like for Mary that Friday over 2000 years ago?  How did she hear that Jesus was arrested?  Did someone hurry to her house to tell her?  Did she hear of it in the streets?  What thoughts raced through her mind as she rushed to find her Son?  Could she have thought of Joseph, her deceased husband, wishing he was there with her?

How difficult was it to make her way through the crowds?  Was she there when Pilate offered to release a prisoner as custom had it?  If so, would she have shouted for Jesus’ release?    Was her voiced swallowed up by shouts for Barabbus?   How much of this Redemption did she understand?  Did she know Jesus could not be released, but must suffer and die for all mankind?  Even if  Jesus shared this with her, how much was fully comprehended?  And, regardless of that, even full knowledge could not have taken away her pain.

What was it like for her to finally meet Jesus on the road to Golgotha?  Did visions of a little babe swaddled in cloth race through her mind?  Did she see Him as a child helping Joseph in his carpentry shop?  Did she remember the words of Simeon in the temple, “a sword shall pierce your heart?”

What did she think when her eyes met her Son’s eyes as He carried the cross?  What did she think when she saw the torn flesh, the crown of thorns, the blood oozing down His face, down His arms and back?  Did she cry out to God the Father to help her Son… to help her…to give her the strength to endure this pain?

Did she pray unceasingly as they drove nails into His hands and feet and raised the cross?  Did it feel as though her heart had been ripped from her chest?   When they laid Jesus in her arms did she hold His battered body close to her as she did when He was a baby?  Did she kiss His blood stained face over and over.  How long did she hold Him in her arms before she was able to give Him up for burial?  Did the women who were there, then hold her in their arms as she wept?   Were there any words spoken?  What could they have possibly said to ease her pain?   Did Mary say anything to these women as they, too, wept?

What was that day like for Mary…the Mother of God?  What was that day like for Mary… the mother of this young man whom she carried in her womb, gave birth to in a stable, cared for and loved through His childhood up to that very day?  What was that Friday, over 2000 years ago, like for Mary?

May God bless you and all those you love,


Dear God,  Thank you for loving me so much as to send Your Beloved Son to suffer and die for my sins.  Thank you for giving me Mary as my Mother, too.  I know I can always depend on her motherly love to help me through the painful times of my life.  Amen.

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