Black Saturday: Mama Mary's Pain And Mine

     

Borrowed from the internet

    It was the early morning of the day after Jesus's passing.  I went up to the rooftop of the upper room.  There I saw Mama Mary just as the sun was rising.  She was looking out towards the rising sun, smiling and crying.  She beckoned me to sit beside her.

    "Everything is quiet and peaceful.  It's beautiful," she said, "But my heart is aching.  I feel His absence."

    Her tears fell profusely and quietly ... as did mine.  For minutes, we sat lost in our own, yet, also, shared pain.

    Then she took my hand, "And now we wait.  He will come."  She held me towards her with her right arm, rubbing her hand up and down my shoulder; comforting me.

    In his talk, Fr. Vic talked about the ever-evolving motherhood of Mama Mary.  When Jesus died, she knew her role was about to change.  She was the one who knew Him most intimately.  She is the one who will be able to keep Him alive with His disciples and to guide them towards His way.

    During this contemplative prayer, once again, Mama Mary urges me to wait on Jesus in faith, while comforting me as only a mother could: being with me, completely immersed, in my pain and just holding me.  

    Mama Mary, I apologize for downplaying your pain. I understand now, that the pain of losing a child is not diminished even with the knowledge that you/we will see each other again.

Borrowed from the internet