Today I have a cold. My head hurts. I’m sitting at the computer, dull and listless, waiting for the Tylenol cold medication to kick in.
Today is a dreary day. The temperature has dropped and there is snow in the forecast. I’m worried about the mamma goat who is probably going to have her baby today. I’m worried about the other babies who were born this week. I’m worried about the group of kids that are traveling here from Regina to spend the evening with the kids from our church. I’m worried about our friends who are coming to visit us today.
Today I have company coming and the house is a bit of a horror because I’ve been delivering and nursing and mothering baby goats all week. And oh ya, did I mention I have a cold?
But today is a Good Day, because today I do not have to watch my son die. I don’t have to watch him, hurt and bleeding, carry a heavy piece of wood up a hill. I don’t have to witness crowds of people making fun of him. I don’t have to see soldiers nail him to a cross or lift his hanging body into the air. Today, I don’t have to watch my son die.
Ah Mary, it seems like just yesterday I was with you in the stable, celebrating his birth. Today, I’m with you in the nightmare.
While the soldiers were looking after themselves, Jesus’ mother, his aunt, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene stood at the foot of the cross. Jesus saw his mother and the disciple he loved standing near her. He said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that moment the disciple accepted her as his own mother.