Was it really Friday
She sat off to the side of the room wrapped in her mourning clothes. Can’t remember what time it is. It must be late in the afternoon because the darkness invaded the room like the darkness of sorrow surrounded her very being. How could this happen?
There were others with her but they were processing their own grief as they searched through their memories of the events of this day.
In her mind, she could still hear the words of the angel who said she was highly favored and she had found favor with God and would conceive a child and call his name Jesus. She remembered everything. The birth, the shepherds and the wise men coming were indelibly stamped in her memory banks. She could picture Jesus as a little one running around the carpenter shop asking so many questions. Those big brown eyes and dark curly hair that framed that cute olive-skinned face were etched on her heart. Everything about this child of hers filled her mind as she sat and remembered. Tears slipped from her eyes as the sobs of grief washed over her. She had watched him grow into manhood.
He sat in the temple and listened as the Torah was read and the religious leaders of the day taught. She remembered Jesus being lost, at least she thought he was lost, and she and Joseph found him in the temple. He astounded those there with his knowledge. She remembered watching him become a man and take on responsibilities. He loved her deeply. She had a front row seat to his miracles and teachings. Miracles, yes but she especially remembered when he turned the water into wine at the wedding.
Why then did this have to happen? He son faced an unfair trial. People lied and accused him falsely. She remembered Peter. How could he. He denied him three times when asked if he were with her son and she remember how devastated Peter was after this took place.
The cries of her son as they beat and scourged him echoed in the chambers of her memory. The sound of the nails as they pierced her son’s bones and flesh raced through her thoughts. More tears slipped from her eyes.
She was remembering every detail of his life, his 12 followers, the miracles and his teachings. Every memory from before his birth till now flooded her senses and the heaviness in her heart was more than she could bear.
The mourning period, according to custom, was not even finished when she understood that the stone from the tomb where Jesus lay had been rolled away. How? Why? Then she remembered his words – could it be? Was he really alive?
Two days of unimaginable sorrow, two days of memories that only brought heartache but now, that third day. What a day. The stone was rolled away – he was not in the tomb. He is risen!
Because of this, these words have such meaning, “I am the resurrection and the life, he that believeth on me though he were dead, yet shall he live.” Easter gives us hope.