Taken In Ireland by my sister, Renae ~
Good Friday. I really never 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…
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