Her Heart

I wrote this some time ago and thought it needed a dusting off to remind me of her and how chosen she was and is. A mother. . .A mother who loved for us and the man that held her hand for us. We are blessed to have Him and them to remind us of the life beyond this.


I’m not so sure that I truly understood the pain that she must have felt while watching Him travel from place to place being treated as a criminal and as a star, so to speak, until I gave birth to my son. He was a surprise, a big surprise. I remember looking in the mirror after the second test thinking huh?. . . . Me . . .Us . . . We can’t do this. I remember the sound of the receptionist’s voice when she said "Congratulations" and I said "A . . . sure" she responded with "Oh" I then began to try to redeem myself with "No. . . no . . . I’m happy".

What did she feel?

Was she as afraid as I was?


More so I think.


My pregnancy was great, my friends and family were happy, my husband was a proud father to be. I couldn’t seem to stop smiling.


Did she keep a smile on her face?


I think she must have.


How did he feel when she told him?


Did he look shocked?


Most fathers do the first time.


This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about:
His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.


I wonder if she talked to Him before he was born?


Did she put her hand on her tummy to feel His kicks?


She must have.


When my son was born I sat in the hospital bed looking down at this small being wondering what to do.


How I loved him so much.


I could hardly take my eyes from him.


She must have been as fascinated.


I remember standing at the window of my son’s room looking out at the moon, so big and silver. It looked as if you could touch it.

I remember as I stood with my sleeping baby, worried as all new mothers worry about the things that could take this little one away, I remember thinking God how hard to send Him here to die.

I couldn’t let my child go to the cross.


I turned and looked at my sleeping boy safe and warm.

I truly know the sacrifice that mother made for us.

She carried a child for us.

She nurtured a child for us.

She watched as they beat, mocked, tortured, and one by one drove nails into Him.
After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him.
Then they led him away to crucify him.


My son had three stitches above his eye I want to take his pain away and I felt like hitting the doctor when he rushed not making sure it was numb.


Only three tiny stitshes went through my heart.


Did it feel as if those nails were going into her heart each one more painful than the other?


How broken she must have felt as she watched her son die a horrible and painful death.


Was she relieved when He took His last breath?


No more pain.


Now it’s done.


How hard it must have been to hold her son knowing He wouldn’t smile at her on this earth again.


Was she comforted by the knowledge that He Was, Is, And Will Always Be?


I know a mother’s heart.

She must have hurt so much for Him.


I know that God gave her comfort through it all.

I am so grateful for Mary.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life. God did not send His Son into the world to condemn it, but to save it" (John 3:16-17).