A Mother's bond...There isn't a mother on the face of this earth that would ever want their child to die before they do. There is a bond that is created the moment you feel that baby kick inside you for the first time that no one on this planet with ever have with that baby but you. I've been a Mommy 3 times, and my children were never really "real" to me until that moment that I felt that little flutter inside. Its at that second in your life that you realize that everything about you isn't about you any longer. You change from that very instant, or at least I did. What I ate wasn't about me any longer, how I felt, whether I was happy or sad, or sleepy all revolved around that little baby inside me. I can imagine that was how it was for Mary when she was pregnant with Jesus as well. She no doubtingly felt the same way that we all do as a Momma. She probably had the same little quiet moments where she placed her hand on her tummy and talked to him. She more than likely sang to him while she worked around the house, and wished he would stop kicking her so hard when he got too big for the space he was in. I am sure that the day he was born she looked into those eyes and just was so in love with him. As a toddler, I bet he was a stinker at times, and a saint the others. She probably kissed his boo-boos and ran her fingers through his hair while he slept. As he got older I'm sure there were times she looked at him and saw God in the flesh, but I bet most of the time she just saw her child. Yes he was her Lord, but he was her baby. Her first baby.
My First Born...
I know from experience that you love your first baby differently than you love the others. Not that you don't love them as much or the same way, you just love them differently. I think its because with your first child you just are so lost as a parent that its a pure act of survival on both of your parts. You have to cling to each other to learn what to do. My oldest is a boy. He's my splitting image, my personality clone, and my baby. He was born severely premature, so I even have a more protective streak in me with him than most probably would. He was so tiny and so weak when he was born. Of course now, he's almost taller than me and could probably protect me better than I could him, but regardless he is still that tiny little baby that used to stop breathing in my arms because he would get so comfortable with me. The thing is my baby doesn't even realize how much he means to me. I can't even imagine my life without him in it. There isn't anything in the world that I wouldn't do for any one of my children. But honestly, I don't know how well I'd do if I had to watch them die and not be able to stop it.
She was tougher than I would have been...
When I think about watching any one of my children go through what Jesus did, I literally get sick to my stomach. It had to be hard enough to hear the way the towns people talked about the "radical" Jesus throughout her life, but I wonder what her heart did when she heard he was in prison. I know what I would have felt. There wouldn't have been an army in the world that would have stopped me from getting to him. Especially when I knew he was sinless and innocent. I don't know if I could have taken the moment when he was being led out to the courtyard to be beaten, and he looked into my eyes and told me to stop with just a look. I don't think I could have taken one strike of that scourge to my precious son's flesh. I think my heart would stop. I certainly don't think I would have the stomach to handle him being beaten to within an inch of his life. To hear his screams and cries... I couldn't. I would have given anything to take his place. I would have let them do that to me a million times before I could watch it once. I don't know how she could have stood there and listen to them calling her son a liar, and a joke without screaming at them. I know she had faith in God. I do to though, and I still know in my heart I wouldn't have been OK with the way he had to die. I wouldn't be OK with knowing it was my fault he was being hurt. That the baby I gave birth to was dying for me. I just couldn't. Can you imagine the agony she felt every time he had to push up on his nailed feet to be able to breathe? Or how angry she was when they spit on him? What about the moment that he finally died? Did she feel relief that it was over? I think in a way I would have. At least he wasn't suffering anymore. But then...where did he go when he died? Did she have any peace? At least if something happened to my children now, I'd know where they are going. We have no idea what happened to Him in those 3 days that he was in the grave. There isn't even any speculation on it. And that in itself terrifies me. I can't imagine that my Jesus, my Lord and Savior had to endure 3 days separated from God to save me. How did he survive that knowing what he did?
Her life was never the same...You know as happy as I'm sure she was when she saw Jesus alive again, I wonder if a part of her knew he wasn't her baby anymore after that. I am curious if she knew he was about to go Home and she wouldn't get to touch or hug him again until she died herself. It had to have been hard on her. I just wonder how she dealt with those feelings. So much of the bible is about what everyone went through before they met Jesus or while he was there with them. But so few stories go into what happened in their lives after he was gone. You really don't hear anything about Mary after that. Her life went on. She had to survive with out her Son. Her baby. Yes he was her Lord, Yes he was the King of Kings, but he was her child. It was her flesh and blood that made him. It was her body that nourished him. And it had to have broke her heart to watch him die. I wonder if she was ever the same? Did she suffer like so many mothers do when they lose their children? Did she just go on for the others? I want to know what was the story of Mary after her first born was taken from her. Because maybe if we knew how she lived her life after THE hope of the world was gone, then we would know how to live ours after our hope is ripped from us.
Why do we go on after loved ones pass?Maybe that's the whole point of all of this though. To reach out to the hope of the world again, even through death. That when he rose from the grave he brought with him a new hope. A fresh start that only he could provide. Yes I am thankful for that so much. I am grateful beyond measure. I wish he hadn't had to suffer because of me, but I am blessed that he was willing. But as a human with a mind that goes a million miles a minute I can't help but wonder how she got through it. What their bond was like after he was gone? Did she pray to her son? Did she miss him? I know I'd miss my baby. My goodness I miss him while he sleeps sometimes. I guess its just something I will have to ask her when I get to heaven. Although it sure would help me to be able to share it with others now.... Guess that is something I need to pray on isn't it?
Well my friends, enjoy your week. Remember that without his blood we are nothing. But without his resurrection we are lost. Take the time to feel your bible friends. Cherish it in a way that you haven't before. The words in it can change you forever. They will come alive for you if you allow it. I promise.