Good Friday

i have a boy.

he's five and a half.

the Easter i was pregnant with him i was in a production at Church.

i played Mary, the mother of Jesus.

i was being interviewed.

i was reminiscing about my son dying on the cross.

(back: Centurion, Peter.  front: John, Mary (me), Mary Magdalene)

i remember practicing my lines.

*thinking about my baby who i would meet that following summer.*

as i memorized my lines i was getting the emotions down.

i was becoming Mary.

how would i feel as a mother.

i had held this babe in my arms, 

snuggled his neck, 

watched as he learned to sit.

comforted as he cried because his gums hurt from the teeth coming through.

amazed as he learned to crawl, then stand.

taking his first steps to me on his chubby, wobbly, legs.

smiles.

laughter.

tears.

cuddles.

having watched my son grow.

and then, as a man,  truly come into the role he was meant to live.

then realizing what the ultimate fate of my son would be.

probably never having completely grasped it.

definitely never understanding it.

i was human after all.

his father wasn't the man everyone assumed he was.

his father.

his father created me..you..the world.

but i was his mom.  

and there he was.

they killed my son!

***

the following Good Friday i was holding my son.

the role i had the previous year came back to me.

my precious boy.

my first born.

thinking about Jesus dying on the cross hit me like it never had before.

it made it more real to me.
Jesus was a real man.
he had been born
(that's why we celebrate Christmas)
he had been a baby.
he had lived, breathed, walked, laughed, cried, gotten angry.
he was God's Son.
he had come to do a job.
he was going to sacrifice himself.
for the people who didn't even love him.
for people who didn't care for God.

he struggled, when he knew the event was near:

"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will but yours be done."
Luke 22:42

without that sacrifice we would not be able to have such a personal relationship with God.

i remember playing Mary.
the emotions well up.
i look to my children.
even more.

would i..
no, i could not sacrifice my kids for someone else i loved...
would i...
no, i would not sacrifice my kids for someone who hated me...

thank you God for loving me.
thank you Jesus for dying FOR ME.