HERstory
Loving, nurturing, and caring for our children. We do it from the heart, it comes naturally. It is a big part of us, who we see ourselves being for them.
They look to us to be there and we always want it to be that way as much as we always want to be there for them.
We protect them, hold them, take away the fears and pain, dry the tears. It brings as much to us, as it does to them, to know that we can do that for them.
What would it feel like to know you couldn't help them? Save them? To be held back, yet so close to look them in the eye; see the pain of loss, suffering, fear; and know you can't reach them?
She was a young girl who had faith stronger than any man on Earth and a heart that beat with fullness of love, even knowing what her own journey would be. Knowing that the day would come that she would see Him on a journey, that no mother would want to watch.
Today I spend some time in prayer and reflection thinking of her; what it would be like to sit down with her and listen to her story. We forget she would have the stories of skinned knees, and songs to hush a crying baby, share her stories of their conversations, and laughter, that brought her joy. And then there were the truths, and the fears, and the worries; in all our prayers to her and honor we bestow upon her as His mother, our Blessed Mother, do we ever think of all those years, days, and moments when she experienced the day to day as a mother, just like us?
As mothers, there are all the joys, and I pray for you these are many with your children; so many that you can't number each one because they are so abundant. For those we are grateful, for those we live; as I believe she did, but we know all too well, that these get interrupted at times; just as she knew would happen in their life together. Depending on the age of our children, we know what it is like to bandage and kiss a skinned knee, to cradle, rock, and kiss our crying child, to listen to the account of a friend's betrayal, as they choke on the words gasping for air through the sobs. To get the late night phone calls, and to thank God that the injuries weren't worse, and to ask Him to protect them.
Today, while I walk with her, I know that I can't begin to fathom the intensity of her feeling of helplessness, or the pain she experienced, but she still had continued strength from her faith.
Do you wonder what went through her mind, as she stood and was only allowed to be another person in a sea of people, having to listen to them shout to take the life of her son. To see the child she cradled and comforted, chained to a post and beaten repeatedly. See his blood spilling out as they punished him for their reasons and fears.
To later walk along the side as he walked the path to the hill where he would be nailed to the cross to save all mankind, to do His Father's will. To be pushed along the way, as she saw him struggle under the weight of the cross, not being able to run to him. To hear the shouts filled with hatred when he stumbled and fell. To have been able to push her way in, for a brief moment, to actually reach out and touch him, try to comfort him. Mother and Son, each knowing, yet each comforting the other in that moment. Looking into each other's eyes, knowing it would be the last time she would be that close to him before his death, as they pulled her away. Him still trying to comfort her through all his pain, sharing at that moment, what they knew and believed, that with God everything is possible. That there was an ending to this that would come in days. Yet knowing that day and time would come; how as a mother did you get through that journey on that day?
Did it bring you any comfort to see those few try to help Him; as his mother to know that there were those that would still stand by him, no matter the cost to themselves? When Veronica, not thinking of her own safety, showed human compassion that seemed nonexistent that day, as a mother did it bring you any moment of peace? To see Simon, forced to help Him, but to look at the face of God, and have his heart change in that moment; did that tug on your heart, as a mother, to know that your child could still help others see the goodness in themselves despite all the hatred that swirled around Him and them that day?
On the hill to see him nailed and the cross raised above the Earth, near death to have him look down at you, to meet his eyes; how did you stand it? How Mary, as a mother, it must have ripped through your heart and very soul to see him up there. To know as a mother you would have traded places with him if you could.
All the many times you must have held him, hugged him, in both pain and joy. Oh Mary, what did you feel when they took him down from the cross and laid his lifeless body in your arms? Mary, you said, yes to God, you knew your journey wouldn't be easy; you knew your life would be about him and all he would go through. As a loving mother you held his hand, you walked along side him, you supported him, and comforted him. And you suffered along with him on this day. Today is about what He sacrificed for the World. But in my heart I also keep your story, your journey, and think of you, as a mother, who walked the most difficult part of her own path that day.