12/3/2023

 I attended church this morning and listened to my favorite pastor bring the message. He was talking about Mary, the mother of Christ and brought out a couple of things I had not really grasped before. He also shared things that are familiar to me - things like from the moment Mary found out she was expecting Jesus, her life became complicated. How her intended husband initially wanted to put an end to their betrothal as his assumption was that Mary had been unfaithful to him. Wouldn't most men have thought that?  How Mary likely experienced great agony and anxiety as she waited for Joseph's decision. Thankfully, he believed God and trusted His plan for their life together. 

That got me to thinking about how difficult it would have been to try to be the mother of the very son of God. Can you imagine? He knows more than you, he never sins (and you do), he is wise beyond His physical years, and He doesn't need you to help Him figure out His strengths and weaknesses and help Him come up with a potential career path. And He's perfect, for goodness sake! If there was a disagreement between you and Him, He would always be right and you would always be wrong. What an interesting mother-child dynamic.

Mary must have felt that God's hand would be evident in the life of her first-born son, and it was. Just not in the way she had thought it would be. A mom wants her children to be loved, safe, and well-liked. She wants them to grow up to be respected in their community. The truth of Jesus' life on earth was that it was a painful one. He was looked down on as "just the son of a carpenter". He was ridiculed, rejected, abandoned by those He loved, betrayed, and He suffered intense pain - emotional and physical. His mom had a front-row seat to this. No doubt that she hurt because He hurt. His wounds were also her wounds. I imagine she had sleepless nights.  

She probably felt the pain of hearing others say untrue things about her son. She surely felt sad that He was misunderstood and falsely accused and, of course, the meanest ones in the bunch were part of the religious crowd. Sadly, some things never change. I want to draw a distinction between religion and true Believers. There is a difference. Religion is sometimes associated with power, control, and corruption. Religion has been responsible for a lot of pain and injustices throughout time. Jesus didn't fit in with the religious crowd - He challenged them. I don't want to be identified as being religious. I want to be identified as a Christ-follower.

When Jesus' life on earth was coming to a close, Mary was there. She was present at the crucifixion of her son. She saw His agony. She likely couldn't bear to watch and at the very same time couldn't bear to leave. She wanted to cling to every moment her Son had left on this earth and that meant being witness to His excruciating pain. And I am certain that Jesus' heart broke for the pain He knew His mother was enduring. Now for the part I hadn't thought about before. The trauma. The trauma from watching her son be tortured, mocked, and die the cruelest death known to mankind. 

 I did not watch my son die like Mary did. I cannot fathom her pain. I did learn of the method my son used to die. It's horrific. I can't get the image out of my mind. I did see the picture of him that the funeral home sent to us for positive identification by the next of kin. Another moment I thought might kill me. I know now that it is possible to keep going after your heart is crushed. I'm not gonna lie - there are times I wish it wasn't possible. I will not do anything to shorten my life...quite the opposite. I am trying to make healthy choices and be here for as long as possible for my husband, my girls, and my grandkids. But, there are times when it feels too hard. Too heavy. Too painful to keep going on with these pictures in my head that will not go away.

Our minds don't forget trauma. Mary's trauma  didn't end when Jesus died. As a mom who has been separated from her son, I believe that she continued to suffer. The image of Jesus hanging on that cross. The image of seeing His broken body. The pain in His eyes. The sound of His voice pleading for a drink. Those images surely haunted Mary all the days of her life. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about them, thinking about Him and the horror He went through. I believe this because I am experiencing similar trauma. Not the same - similar. These horrible images pop into my mind without warning. And the waves of grief and intense emotion that follows them is awful. All I can do is let the waves of grief wash over me and wait for them to stop. I feel so helpless. 

This is why I believe Mary must have gone through a similar hell of learning how to keep going while those haunting images involuntarily pop into your mind. Mary's life was so very hard, so unbelievably complicated. Mary is arguably the most blessed woman in all of history - she was chosen, by God, to be the conduit that would bring God's son to this world that was desperately in need of a Savior. She was also a woman who suffered heartbreak and had to live her remaining days out with the images of her Son's torture and death playing out in her mind. 

It seems ironic. Moms start off with one goal. Trying to keep those tiny demanding humans alive. It gets harder as they grow. Especially if you are blessed with one those fearless, dare-devil children that make you afraid to blink as they somehow have this ability to launch themselves into a dangerous situation in less than a nano second. They keep growing and you (or some brave soul) teaches them to drive. The seasons keep changing and they have more birthdays. Then your new job is to figure out how to let them go. I know, I know...we raised them to be independent, functioning adults...but now we don't know how to transition to being a mom of adult children. You learn. 

But the one thing you are never ready for is learning to live without them. I used to think trying to be a good mom was the hardest job. I was wrong. Learning to live without them is the most difficult thing I've ever experienced. 

I have a new appreciation for Mary. I have great respect for every single mom who has lost a part of their heart. I applaud all of you who choose to get up each day and live. I hold those of you who have found ways to channel your deep pain in ways that bring love and hope to others in the highest esteem. There are so many of you that have paved the way for those of just starting on this unwelcome journey. Thank you for not giving up. Thank you for sharing your stories. Thank you for lending your strength and hope to moms like me who are still struggling to accept the reality that our child is gone and they are not coming back. Thank you for giving me hope that there will be better days.

I mentioned earlier that Jesus' heart must have surely been breaking for His mom as she was going through the worst time of her life. That makes me realize that Jesus knows my pain. I'm a mom. I had a son. I am going through the devastating pain of trying to learn to live without him in my life. Mary was on Jesus' mind as He was dying. Some of His last thoughts were of her. He made arrangements for her to be taken care of. Jesus feels compassion for the bereaved. He loves us and He will provide for us. He will meet every need. I don't know how, but I trust that He will.