She wondered if she could last until the end, her heart was in sorrow and pain. She began to follow as he walked the way of the cross, John clearing the way for her, so that she was right beside where he walked.
The closeness of the crowd, and the heat had begun to overwhelm her. John suggested they walk up a little ahead where there was a little more room, there were also some boulders where she might rest a little.
Inwardly she knew it was the right thing to do, she needed to save what energy she had for what lay ahead. She knew the sight of her son carrying his cross would be in her mind and heart forever.
In her inner being she knew this was the way her son must go, and that God the Father was working all this for the good. Her humanness wanted to comfort her son, hold him, tell him it would be okay.
Just before the climb up the hill to Calvary, there was a large boulder, beside the road, John took her arm and eased her down to a sitting position. Taking out the water bottle he gave her a drink.
Then there he was looking right at her, between them was an electric current of her pain for him, and his pain for her. Not a word was said, but both hearts responded with a caring comfort that could not be put into words.
At the place of the skull, they placed the cross beam that Simon of Cyrene had carried for Jesus, on the cross. Then they ripped his clothes off him, threw him down upon the cross.
They placed one foot on top of the other, and with a nail spike they drove it through his feet. With each of the strikes it was as if my heart was being nailed to the cross with him. I began to fall, John held me up.
Next they pulled one arm out to the cross beam, and nailed it to the cross, and then the other, again my heart was suffering with his. I could hardly see my tears consumed me.
The cross was lifted, it dropped into the hole that had been made for it, the thud went through my whole body, it seemed to come up through my feet and travel through my whole being.
We knelt before him, all I could do was to be there for him, I couldn't help, I couldn't comfort. There was one thing I could do, I could pray and in my prayer I joined my heart to his.
Then I heard him speak, he said, “Woman behold your son,” and he looked at John and said, “Behold your mother." I knew he was making sure I would be taken care of.
When the end finally came, I knew in my heart my Son had done his father’s will, for my heart filled with his peace. As they placed my son in my arms, I held him to my breast; I took my hand and lifted some of his matted hair from his face. I ran my fingers along his crown of thorns.
Leaning down to his ear, I whispered, "My Son may your father's peace fill you." My tears fell upon his chest, and with a tender touch, slowly I closed His eyes in rest.
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