He was my Son!

From the day I was told I was chosen to be his mother I have been afraid, not for him but for me.  It has always been a strange sort of fear, a fear from deep within my soul, I ached, I ached for this boy of mine, when he was a baby I cared for him as all mother's do.  Knowing in my heart that someday the entire world would know as I did that he, my Jesus, my son was also His son. 

I remember watching him with Joseph; together they would work for hours building things in the carpentry shop.  Oh, how they loved being together.  Perhaps it is a blessing that Joseph is not here to see what they have done to our boy.  

Thomas, found me and told me of the things that happened in the garden, that the soldiers had come to arrest my son.  They don't see what is right in front of them, they accuse him and hate him all in the name of God, but they fail to see that the one they hate is God.  My son, sent from heaven to love them, to save them, but even now after all they have seen they still fall blind and do not see. 

I am longing to ask His Father to set him free, but Jesus has always asked that in this moment I trust.  In the quiet moments when it was just Him and I he would tell me of day when my heart would break, he would tell me not to be afraid, but to trust in Him and in the one who sent him.  He would assure me that things would have to happen; this that is what His Father had planned from the beginning. 

But I was not prepared; I was not ready to let him go.  It was so ugly, they yelled and screamed at him some even spit.  The soldiers laughed, how could you laugh at the sight of any man torn apart and hanging from a cross.  And I watched as my son died.  It broke my heart I could not breath.  This is madness I don't understand my son from God, died.  God died on that cross.  It makes no sense.   But I will trust, my boy held my face in his hands and asked me to trust that all of this would be for victory and that he would return. 

We did not even have a grave for him Joseph is with us now.  There is much silence there are no words it feels as though the victory is lost that we have been robbed.  I spoke with James and John and we have agreed to remind everyone that Jesus said this was what he was here for.  That this horrific death must have been what he told us of.   

Some are scared, they are afraid that this means the Romans will come after all of us, that we too will died at their hands.  It has been a long day the Passover has not been celebrated, who can eat.  Some are considering hiding others fighting, I do not know. 

The time has come for us to face that Jesus is dead my son lays in a grave, my son.  It's time to go prepare our Lord’s body I hear Mary and Martha getting ready.  The men will decided what we will do now, they will gather as we go and prepare my sons body, oh how I am not strong enough for this.  James, my other son tells that I need not go with the women, that it is too much.  But I must I am his mother. 

I hear the woman up a head yelling, but I can't make it out.  He's gone? I don't understand, my broken heart is racing, what now what have they done now?

He's gone Mary he is gone.  The grave it's empty the tomb was rolled back and the cloth was there empty.  Mary there was an angels asking us 'why we would looking amongst the dead for the living?"  He is gone Mary, your son is not in that grave.

Could it be, I can hardly bare to imagine, because if it's not, oh my son.  Alive!!! My Jesus is Alive it is true my son; my boy, my Lord is Alive.