In two weeks my son gets married. Emotions flood over me today as I realize, it’s not just abstract planning but a marriage.
I said today that this man is getting married but all I see is my son. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is prepared for this marriage. He’s grown up, he’s in love with the woman of his dreams and most importantly he loves God and has a plan for his life in Him. All great things. He is ready, he is in love and he is purposed. I’m proud of him and extremely happy for him. This is a great time for a family.
Yet, all I see is my son. The quiet spirit I held in my body, then my arms. The arrow of my quiver whom I launched into the universe to succeed. And he has. He has put his hand in the Master of the Universe and followed The Way.
But that’s two weeks away, tomorrow we celebrate Easter. The time we choose to celebrate that Jesus was resurrected. He defeated, death, hell, and the grave. What a week! One day they’re crying Hosanna and laying their clothing down for him to walk on and the next they’re slapping his face and if that wasn’t bad enough they crucify him. Up on the cross, with his friends scattered in hiding, his mother watching the scene along with John and Mary.
Today my heart goes out to Mary. I recognize her mother’s heart. How hard it must have been to see. She had no earthy understanding of what was to be, she had to reference. She knew her son was destined for greatness, but what was this that he had to endure? What torture her heart must have been in. A woman who had said yes to God and had given birth to her savior, with full expectation of blessing, but all she saw now was her son in torture. A woman who had trusted a word long ago, but all she saw now was body that now needed to be buried, and gone were her hopes and dreams of a wedding, grandchildren and the simple hug that only her son can give.
Yet almost two months later, we see her waiting patiently in an upper room for the One whom her son promised to send. Her deliverer, her promise, her first born, the one who others called Master and Rabbi and traitor and worse. Yet all she saw was her son.
I am rejoicing that in a couple of weeks my son enters a new level of his life, a new chapter. He will be married among his friends and take a beautiful wife on a beautiful honeymoon. They will arrive home and begin to live together as one. It’s exciting, and I feel beyond blessed. I am one of the blessed moms. Yet, Mary, my heart turns to you and my eyes fill with tears because I don’t know that I would ever have had the fortitude to endure what you had to endure.
One thought on “Easter and A Wedding”
I came late to this post, but I must say I quite agree. I’ve often wondered what was going through Mary’s mind watching her son beaten, ridiculed and humiliated on a cross. She must have wondered if she hallucinated all those years ago or something else just as self-deceiving. At the same, there must have been a spark of hope somewhere in spite of what she was witnessing.
It’s always good to get a parent’s view of these things, eh? I didn’t carry my son in my body, but I don’t know that I could watch someone hurt him without interfering to stop it—or die in the attempt.