Good Friday.  I never really understood why it was called good.  I’ve read the account repeatedly.  I could understand Easter being called “Good Sunday”.  But Friday was a horrific day for Jesus.  For those that loved Him.  For His mama.

When I ponder on the heartache I have held for my own children, I cannot begin to  imagine Mary’s.  Illness.  Struggles. Disappointment.  Mistakes.  A mama wants to fix these things for her children, no matter their age.  The hardest place is when you come to the realization that you have no power to change a circumstance.  Were the many prayers sent up for this child all in vain?

And then I reflect upon Mary.  She had no power.  No prayer left.  Her heart exposed.  I cannot help but wonder, when her eyes met His eyes that day ~did she know?  Did she know through the tears, the blood, and…