Everyone thinks I ran away. Which I did. I have to admit that. But I didn’t leave. Where could I go? My whole life is right there on that hill. The One I still believe is the Messiah is dying right there. And I should be with Him. Either dying next to Him or at least standing with John and Mary and His mom. But no, I’m over here in the trees on the next hill. Watching from a distance. So ashamed that I denied Him, that I fled in the face of danger. I couldn’t show my face there. I couldn’t bear to see the look of disappointment on His face. That look would haunt me for the rest of my life. But then, I guess it will anyway. Still, I can’t go. Where else should I be? What does all this mean? What does it mean for me?
Who am I? The brave and bold disciple, or the one who denies even knowing Him? Am I the one who walked on water or the one who ran when He needed me most? It’s so hard to remember any note of goodness in the midst of my resounding failure. I always thought I would be the hero. I would be the one who stayed. When everyone else fled, I would be by His side. But I’m not. I’m here skulking in the shadows. I guess at the end of the day, I’m truly both: the angel and the devil. The good and the bad. The flesh and the spirit. But it doesn’t feel that way. I just feel the bad. But I was my best when I was with Him. And now He’s gone.
12 thoughts on “Do You See What I See, Good Friday Edition”
One true G-d, the one my master called “Father,” my heart and soul have been fractured! I feel I can barely breath! Are You real? Is any of this real?! What has just happened?! How could you be G-D, and this be real?! My eyes can hardly focus, my legs can barely move, I do not know how or if I can survive! Grief threatens to swallow my entire being, yet I fight with all that is in me to not dispair! I DO believe that what my loved one said was true! I DO believe he was the promised messiah! His words and the way he lived are all I have to lean on now. He is not here. He is gone. They lied about him, the ones he loved so much, the ones he spent so much time praying for, healing, and teaching, they killed him! They said he was a bad man, and killed him the way they punish murders and theives! The way they were going to, and should have killed me. He WASN’T a murder! He WASN’T a theif! He NEVER committed adultry… I DID!!! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN KILLED, NOT HIM!!!!!!! Oh Almighty G-D! I was around him, I KNOW how gentle, giving, embracing, and compassionate he was! He changed me! I was given a second chance at life because of him! I thought he was going to take over the city and become the ruler. Actually, I thought he was going to become the ruler of the world, but now he can’t, now that he has died. To me, it didn’t matter so much if he was the ruler, but it DID matter to me that he loved me. I will ALWAYS love him, no matter what! I don’t believe any of the lies that have been said about him! I will not speak anything negative about him! I LOVE HIM! AND I KNOW HE LOVES ME! I feel him with me, I know he helps me in my confusion and sorrow! As I remember his words I am comforted! I will continue to live as he told me to! I will NOT go back to my old ways! Even though it seems as though he wasn’t right, that he made a mistake in some of his claims, I still believe he is the messiah! And I will trust you, G-D! Even through this, I will trust you! You are the ruler of all, and even when I do not understand what is going on around me, I believe you are my shephard, leading and guiding me, totally in control! And I will always walk in love towards you and others! Thank you, G-D, that you are trustworthy.
Six months ago I met a man and my life was changed forever. He is the Son of God. I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same thing. I saw binded eyes opened and crippled legs dance & leap for joy. I knew it had to be true. When I looked in His eyes, I believed. He is the Son of God and I will never be the same.
I walked to the marketplace to sell my woven goods but it was almost empty. Then, I saw the crowds gathering at Golgotha. Now I have never really liked crucifixtions but with crowds that large surely I could sell a few items. I started walking on the winding road to Golgotha and met my friend Peter. He was obviously upset. “What’s wrong?” I asked. In between sobs he said, “Just turn around and go home.” He was crying even harder. “And if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.” That was strange indeed but I really needed to make a few sales so I decided to keep walking. As I came to the last bend in the road, I saw four guards in an argument over something. They decided to settle the dispute by shooting dice. The tallest one won the prize. He stood and tried on his new treasure. Could it be? I recognized it at once as one of mine. It had taken several days to dye the wool just the right color and even more days to weave the cloak from head to toe without any seams. It couldn’t be too long or it would drag the ground or too short so it could be used as a blanket on cold nights. It was a labor of love and it had to be perfect. My heart felt like it fell to my stomach and I felt sick. It was at that moment I realized they were crucifying Jesus.
too long, but…
She woke with a start. With confusion, her eyes searched her environment as she tried to make sense of where she was. She had just seen her husband, a strong unwavering man, drop to his knees on the floor in the darkness. But as she sought him, she found herself alone in the their bedroom. The bright morning sunshine that broke through the slightly opened draperies did nothing to dispel the darkness that still pressed in on her. She whispered her husband’s name knowing there would come no answer. Something was terribly wrong. She knew that what she had seen last night was more than dreams.
After calling for her maid-servant, she heard the large door open slowly.
“Yes, madam?”, she heard.
“Where is my husband?”, she heard her own voice ask.
“Madam, the governor’s presence has been required by the Jewish people. He has gone to address a situation that has arisen. Many people are gathering.” Slowly her awareness began to come into focus. She could hear the murmur of a crowd outside. She shivered in spite of the warm breeze that carried the voices thru the open door that led to the balcony. Now she glanced at the maid-servant and instructed her to call for the dream interpreter before watching the door close. The sound of the latch caused her to gasp.
She looked down at her hands to see their tremor. The tremors! Flashes of the visions of the night began to vie for her attention. The tremor had been the last sensation. It was so strong, she was almost afraid to get out of bed. But before that? What else was there? She shook her head as if to shake away the questions. She didn’t want to remember. Slowly, she turned and let her feet hang over the bed, above the floor. Her husband’s voice, through the open window, drew her out of bed. She dressed as quickly as she could and walked to the balcony. The sights, sounds and smells that greeted her were too familiar for her comfort.
The crowd was more anxious than normal. There were shouts and she could feel their hostility. Her eyes lifted from the crowd to where her husband stood. To the side of him stood three chained men. She knew who they were from listening to her husband the night before as he supposed as to the happenings of this morning. It was time for the festival custom of releasing one prisoner. Someone who deserved death would be given a second chance at life today. The rest would be crucified as their sentence required. There stood two common thieves: one looked angry; one looked resigned to his fate. There, too, however was a beast of a human. The notorious Barrabbas. What had he to smile about, she wondered.
But, there before her husband stood another. Again the visions of darkness flashed before her. She was somehow not surprised to see this man there before her husband. She knew of this man, too. “No. No, no, no.” She heard the words leave her mouth just as they had done the night before in the dreams. “Madam?” questioned another voice. She spun around to find the dream interpreter. Her distress disturbed him. “If this is what greets me this morning’, she explained, ‘today will hold sufferings of which I have not enough time to describe to you.” She spun back to see her husband question the man before him. The crowd had hushed now and she could hear the governor ask, “Are you the King of the Jews?” A tear left her eye and her breath caught in her throat when the man answered her husband, “It is as You say.” The crowd erupted with wails, outcries of anger and shock and horror. Terror seized the woman. She turned back to the dream interpreter.
“Listen to me,’ she said, ‘I must get a message to my husband. You can not be distracted. This is of the utmost importance. Do not waste a moment. Tell him that I implore him to ‘Have nothing to do with that righteous Man; for last night I suffered greatly in a dream because of Him.’” Empowered by her sudden change of demeanor, from frightened to strength, the interpreter received her message and departed carrying not only her words, but her urgency as well.
Again alone, she turned her attention back to the scene unfolding below her balcony. She watched as the Jewish authorities accused the man. She marveled at the peace he exuded while gently offering no rebuttal. Her husband asked for his answer and still he stood silent.
The messenger arrived & her husband stepped away to hear her message. He glanced up at her, now. With no words her loving husband had an entire conversation with her. She affirmed that the message was from her and pleaded with him to avoid the guilt of shedding the blood of an innocent man. She watched him think through the options before thanking him for hearing her. He returned to the judgment seat to address the crowd.
Ever the pillar of wisdom, her husband’s voice carried far as he addressed the crowd, “Whom do you want me to release for you? Barabbas, or Jesus who is called Christ?” The voice of the crowd began to rise in one accord demanding Barrabbas’ release. She could see disgust on her husband’s face. She knew her husband well. He turned to look at the chief priests and elders obviously realizing their envy was what chained the innocent man before him. Still he kept his composure before the people.
Hushing them, again, he posed another question, “Then what shall I do with Jesus who is called Christ?” She felt her skin grow cold as the bumps rose on her flesh. She knew what was coming. She knew what they would yell. A tear escaped her eye even before the one deep, dark voice revealed the heart of the spirit the roamed the crowd in the form of those sent by the elders and priests, “CRUCIFY HIM!” Her husband could barely hide his frustration as he demanded one final answer, “Why, what evil has He done?” Obviously, the people knew that there was no good answer. They knew all excuses had been used; there was no true justifiable reason. They didn’t even try to explain. They just chanted – their chanting fueled by their escalating emotions; their escalating emotions fueled by the chanting. “Crucify him!”
Her husband looked up at her. For the first time, he appeared to her to be without power, his strength was drained with each chant of the horrifying words. “Crucify him!” They are massing to riot fervor he said with his eyes. People will be hurt, property will be destroyed. Honestly, too, this will not bode well for my career. She knew he saw her tears. She ached to touch him. She shook her head slowly. “Please, no,” she whispered, knowing that he couldn’t hear her. “Crucify him!!” His eyes cleared, strengthened. A curt nod restored her hope. He would do what he could. He would do what he must. She nodded back & saw his countenance change back to the unquestioning governor that she admired and respected.
She watched as he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this Man’s blood; see to that yourselves.” Suddenly, a quiet settled on her and in her.
As the crowd answered her husband, “His blood shall be on us and on our children!” she saw them differently. Pity rose in her as well as shock. She stood aghast as the thoughts ran rampant through her heart. How could they say that? With horror the images resurfaced. They don’t know what they do, she thought. They are sentencing themselves and their children. The blood will flow. The evil will drive them to the brink of the unimaginable. She was powerless to save them from the horrors and suffering that had plagued her the night before and now lay before them.
Barrabbas was set free. The man, Jesus, was turned over to be scourged and crucified. She became aware of the hot sun burning her skin. She could no longer bear watching the dreams unfold a second time. She turned and walked back into her room. As she awaited her husband’s return, she placed her head in her own hands. Her palms pushed against her eyes willing the images to no longer be seen. She knew, though, that she could not escape the images that forced their way to the surface of her mind’s eye. Today would be a cold, dark day.
Later, that night the darkest of clouds settled overhead, again, and the earth shook beneath her once more. With the only relief she had known all day, something was different than the images that had caused her such suffering for the last 24 hours. This time, as the earth shook, her husband did not collapse on the floor. No. He had washed his hands of his guilt. And so, now, as she whispered, “It is finished”, a tear stained her husband’s cheek while he answered, “Surely, this was the Son of God. He was who he said He was. I’m sorry.” he said, shaking his head. She knew he wasn’t speaking to her.
“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14
The irony did not escape him. It all began in a crude wooden manger and it would end on a cruel wooden cross. He knew how the story would play out. He wrote it. But for right now, in this moment, the knowing did not ease his sorrow.
“…the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5
The words from Isaiah swirled in his head. He had placed those very words on Isaiah’s heart. Even as Isaiah spoke the words to an unhearing people, He, the Holy One of Israel, knew when and where they would be fulfilled. He saw the hill and he felt the darkness. Even then he knew it would be hard. But knowing and experiencing are two completely different things. He felt the weight of humanity as he sunk to the ground in utter weariness. Not just the humanity of mankind, but his humanity.
“The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Matthew 26:41
It wasn’t the thought of the pain he would endure that was making his knees weak and his stomach churn. It was the separation from His Father. He had always existed as a part of his Father. The Ancient of Days. The Beginning and the End. In a matter of hours, he would know what it truly meant to be human and apart from his Father. Those that he had lived with and loved for the last 33 years here on earth knew nothing different. There had always been a longing in their souls for something more. Something that would complete them and bring them peace. He would complete them. He would bring them peace. But for them to know that completion and peace, he would have to pour himself into the void that they had created with their choices. The dark abyss of separation from His Father stretched out in front of him in a way that brought him to his knees. It ripped a plea for redemption from his lips.
“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Matthew 26:39
He knew his Father’s will. It was his will too. He knew that his pain would be felt by his Father and he knew that the separation would grieve his Father’s spirit more than the sin of a thousand generations. But for those he loved, those he was dying for, to know how wide and long and high and deep is the Father’s love, he would not pass this cup. He would drink from it fully. As the darkness of the night descended, he could hear the cheers of the demons as they celebrated his much anticipated death. His Father’s angels, His angels, were holding them at bay, giving his soul time to strengthen and renew. For that he was grateful. But the sorrows and sins of mankind would not be erased in this garden on his knees. No. Those sorrows and sins would only be erased with his blood. Blood that would be spilled by those he came to save.
“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows…” Isaiah 53:4
The time was near. He knew his betrayer had fulfilled his duty. He returned to his disciples. They were worn out and sound asleep. He felt disappointment at their lack of support, but at the same time compassion. They had followed him for three years down dusty roads and into unwelcome towns. They had heard his words, but had not yet taken them to heart. He closed his eyes and saw as their hearts would change in the days and years to come. He had written their stories and he would perfect their faith. He knew that his suffering would bring them peace when they suffered and died in His name. And they would suffer greatly. He began to pray over them.
“Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name-the name you gave me-so that they may be one as we are one…My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one.” John 17: 11 & 15
The weariness of his soul, the same weariness that had brought him to his knees, was lifting. The pending separation made his soul ache, but he knew it was temporary. He would soon be in his Father’s presence and his Father would be glorified. As he prayed over his men, he thought of those yet to come. The believers that would be martyred in his name, and those that would believe because of the “great cloud of witnesses” that came before them. He saw each of their faces and wrote each of their names on his heart. On his palms. In the midst of his turmoil and pain, he prayed for them. Every single one.
“…I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message…May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and loved them even as you have loved me.” John 17: 20 & 23
He heard the voices coming up the hill. His time had arrived. He straightened his shoulders, praised his Father for his tender mercies, awoke his disciples, and allowed a tiny smile to play across his mouth. He wrote the story. He knew how it ended. He knew how it would begin again.
“Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever!” Revelations 1: 17-18
I know how you feel, bro. I mean, it’s the same for me. But lets face it, we didn’t think it would end this way. You saw all those people, spitting and shouting, throwing crap at Him. He wasn’t the real deal! I think our best bet now is to cover our butts and make sure no one knows we hung out with Him. Look, a lot of those people saw us and who knows? We may be next! Let’s just get out of here, get to the boat, see if we can get something to eat, maybe make some money and forget about all this crap. There’s no reason to mess with this anymore, lets just get out of here.
What can these soldiers possibly want with me? Although, I believe in Him and have heard His teachings I was not one of the 12. Surely, they have me mistaken.
They asked me, “Sir, from where are you?” I responded with the name of of my village Cyrene, a north African village. They knew it was a Jewish community, and said to me in a mocking manner, “He is King of the Jews, since you are of a Jewish community, help your King carry His cross.” I was angered, for this was not my cross to bare, and I had done nothing to deserve such treatment. Then Jesus appeared.
An already unassuming man, He was battered and beaten, weakened to the point where I did not know if He would be able to carry His own weight up to Calvary, let alone the wait of the cross. So I agreed and realized that the Son of God deserved this treatment far less than I. A day will come where I will be judged and I cannot deny this Man help in His time; He did not deny those who asked of Him.
The cross was a heavy burden, and Jesus Himself could barely make it up that hill. I felt a sense of pride that I had been able to carry this burden for this Man but surely, He was more powerful than even I could imagine to continue in His condition. I watched as they nailed Him to the cross, watched as the time passed, watched as they mocked Him. I did not understand, how the Almighty could let this happen. Why did He not save Himself?
Finally He cried out, and then fell silent. Clouds formed, thunder cracked in the distance. I realized, Jesus had taken on a bigger burden than a cross that day. His life was sacraficed for mine, and for all of mankind. My pride was humbled, for this Man has just carried not only the burden of my sins but of everyone’s. The deed is done, I must return to Africa and spread word of what has happened. This deed will surely never be forgotten.
I was the first one to reach the tomb early this morning while it was still dark outside. I brought spices to place on his body even though he told me he would come back from the dead. I really want to believe it, but I saw him suffer such a horrible death. But what if it is true? I ran as fast as I could to see for myself. The glimmer of hope that we would be together again was ripped away when I saw the tomb was empty. Someone had stolen his body! I can’t handle this—it’s too much to bear . . . because even though a gigantic stone might separate us, at least I knew where to find him, where to go when I needed to talk to him, where to feel close to him.
You see, he was someone very special to me. He was the only man who looked into the very depths of my soul and found treasure. “Beautiful treasure” was the name he gave me—unlike so many other hurtful names I’ve been called. His love created beauty within me and a wonderful sense of home. He understood me and accepted me. He encouraged me and taught me many things about myself and about God. I loved him more than my very life.
My eyes were blinded by tears and all I could hear was the sound of my own sobbing . . . gut-wrenching screams that made it hard to breathe, drowning me in wave after wave of grief and utter despair. That’s why I didn’t recognize him at first. All I heard was someone asking me why I was crying. What a ridiculous question! I probably sounded a bit sarcastic or perhaps desperate when I answered him. It wasn’t until he called my name . . . “Mary,” that I recognized his voice. That voice which spoke more to my heart than to my ears. Anyone else might have said, “Hey you, crazy lady, shut up and get a grip.” But he spoke with such kindness and compassion that I knew it was him. No one else said my name like he did. No one has ever loved me like he did.
Couldn’t have said it better, myself, Todd.
But, who was the one watching?
It is morning and I am still here. Oh my God, why did you not take me during the night to be with my son? Why did you not have mercy on a mother’s broken heart? A compassionate God would have let death steal me away in the night rather than waking me with tears in my eyes, a sob in my throat and a gaping hole in my heart!
My Lord, please forgive a mother’s grief. I know that it is not mine to question your will but it hurts so much. My sorrow overwhelms me. My grief knows no end. He was such a blessing to me and to all of Israel. He tended his flock with such care and compassion. How could his love and his wisdom be rewarded with such a horrible death? I don’t understand…
Curses on them all!
Lord I beg of you, bring curses upon the head of Caiaphas. He brought shame on your name and on all of Israel by plotting to kill the Chosen One. He reveled in the power of his office, never truly caring for your children. He was never a worthy representative of your love. Instead, he was a man small of heart and soul who worried only about his own standing.
And Judas Iscariot … curses upon his soul! He betrayed my son – YOUR Son – for a mere thirty pieces of silver! He spent three years with Jesus – learning from him, breaking bread with him, seeing the righteousness of his soul and the love that shone through each of his acts of mercy. How could he have betrayed him? All of the riches in the world should not have been enough to buy his complicity in Caiaphas’ evil plot.
And though he does not claim to be one of your children, curses upon the house of Pontius Pilate. His weakness released my son to the cross. He did not govern his people. Instead, he allowed them to govern him, sending a righteous man to his death and releasing that monster Barabbas. Washing his hands in front of the crowd is not enough to wash the stain of an innocent man’s blood from his soul.
Oh my Lord, please forgive a mother’s wretchedness. I know that it is not mine to question your will but the pain knows no end. My sorrow threatens to drown me and the grief makes my heart cry out in distress. He should have been loved by all; loved as he loved us, honored as the Messiah spoken of by the prophets. Instead he was tortured and spat upon; beaten and crucified. I don’t understand…
Father I thank you for Mary Magdalene, Salome and the one out of the remaining eleven that stood by me and my son yesterday. Were it not for them, my strength alone would not have held me up. Where was Peter? Where was the man who said he would never leave or forsake my child? I am told that he denied even knowing him not once or twice, but three times! Where were Andrew and James? John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas and Matthew? James the Younger? Judas the brother of James? Simon the Zealot? How could they have fled like cowards leaving us to face his death and the ugly crowds alone?
Alone – yes I feel very alone. Why father? Why? Why did he not come to me to pray with him in the garden at Gethsemane? Why did he not share those final moments before his arrest with his mother, instead choosing Peter and the two brothers, James and John? I know that he once said, “Whoever does the will of My Father in heaven is My brother and sister and mother” but have I not done your will? I know that I am not without blemish in your sight and he would have known that too, but I would not have fallen asleep! I would have prayed with him through every torturous moment had I known … had I been asked.
Dear Lord, please forgive a mother’s anguish. I know that it is not mine to question your will but the pain of his death takes my very breath away. My sorrow is overpowering and my grief assails the soul. Your prophets said in the old times that after three days he would rise and that is my only hope. I cling to that promise and my spirit holds it’s breath waiting for another sunrise. If tomorrow does not bring my son, I will be lost and have no will to continue on. He was my world. He was my son. He was the hope for all people. If he does not return, all hope will be lost. We had perfection, born of a virgin and living as a man without blemish and we could not see. I don’t understand…
The Woman with the Alabaster Jar (Mark 14:6-9)
As all Jews I went to the temple for the beginning of Passover. “What’s all the commotion?” I wonder as I get near the palace. I hear screaming, everyone is pushing and shoving. “Isn’t this our celebration from slavery? Why are people acting this way?”
As I get closer I see a man all bloody and beaten. The roman soldiers are tying his wrists to a crucifixion stake. “Who is this man?” I wonder and I push though the crowd to see. There before me is a grotesque figure. I scream at the sight. My mind races wondering, “Just who is this terrible person, what must he have done to deserve such a horrid sentence.”
Just then the monster looks up, his eyes catch my own. “IT’S JESUS!!” I scream, I fall to the ground, reeling in pain. “No, No, this can’t be!” Suddenly I’m filled with panic. I have to help him; this is NOT how it’s supposed to end. I stand up and lunge toward the soldiers. They laugh and throw me to the ground.
I lay there, screaming to God, my soul is broken. Suddenly they start off, toward the city gates. I know they are leading my Jesus up to the Place of the Skills~ Golgotha.
It all started playing over in my mind what Jesus said that night as I poured the oil over his head.
Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
I stood up with a new resolve to see this through. I will find Peter; he will know what to do. I search the crowd, I look everywhere for Peter. Finally I see John walked soulfully with another woman, other followers are walking quietly with them, but no Peter. I slow down to meet up with them and quietly mingle into the group of followers, hoping no one will ask me who I am.
We make the long, painfully journey to the Place of the Skills. I can’t watch as the soldiers laugh and enjoy their torture of my Jesus, I crumble to the ground and cover my face with clothes.
The sky begins to turn dark, but it isn’t evening yet. I hear the furry of our god in the skies. I hear the wailing of others as our Jesus hangs on the tree, dying in front of us and still praising his Father~ God.
Suddenly the ground becomes angry and begins to shake. I looked up to hear Jesus’ final word, “ Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
My heart was broken, right there on that cross. As I got up to walk off alone a woman came up to me, asked me if I had known Jesus and before I could answer John said, “Yes, Mother. She is the woman who blessed Jesus with the perfumes from the alabaster Jar. She prepared his body for burial.”
The words stung my soul; I didn’t mean to do this. I was only trying to anoint my Lord and Savior. The woman brought me in close and hugged me tight.
“Then you will stay with us tonight.”
Well Im not the writer like most of you all but I often think of the soldier who’s ear was cut off in the garden. This man had an encounter with Christ that he could not deny he knew that Yeshua was more then what he had been told. I can imagine him during Christ trial wanting to speak up and tell what had happen in the garden but at the same time knowing what Jesus destination would be and afraid that if he did speak up the same thing would happen to him. (for he had a wife and kids at home to take care of) I can see him during the crusifiction hiding among the crowd feeling guilty cause he should have been there doing his job but he just could not get past what Christ had done for him in the garden.
We met under a star. My world overflowed with love from the moment I saw him. I knew He was Your son, in my care to tend to, but oh how my heart jumped when I looked into His eyes. Such love and compassion lived in Him. Fear and understanding lingered behind my smiles, for I knew His fate was not a pleasant one.
The time is drawing near and I can barely breathe! I’m powerless to help Him and I’m dying inside. A mother is supposed to protect her children, how am I supposed to live after He is gone? Can He feel my pain and anguish? Make them stop hurting Him, I can’t bear it anymore!! That’s my son, don’t hurt Him! This is not how I want to spend my last day with Him. He promised me that we would meet again. That is my only hope.