Mary: The Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows

Many Christians honor today as a special day. They honor Mary for all of the pain that she suffered so that Jesus might save us. God chose well when He chose Mary. God always chooses well 🙂

Although I am not going to cover all of the sorrows that Mary suffered, there are some I would like to share with you my friends.

Do you remember when Jesus was in the Temple, His Father’s House, and Mary didn’t know where He was.  I remember when I briefly lost track of one of my own children years ago.  My child was having a great time hiding under one of the circular racks of clothes at the store, right next to me, lol!  I, on the other hand, was frantic with worry, and it was just seconds!  Now imagine what Mary must have endured.  Jesus was 12 years old and “missing” for three days!  (Luke 2 41-52) As a Mom, I can’t even imagine how she must have worried!  My stomach just drops thinking of it!  How she must have suffered!

And how about the time that Jesus was struck across the face?   I can only imagine how I would have felt if someone struck my child-in any way, but especially across their face.  I cringe just thinking of it! (John 18:22 and Matthew 26:67)

And when they whipped our Lord, how Mary must have felt each blow into the core of Her very being.  I can’t even begin to imagine how she stood it.  I know that I could not.  The sound of the whip as it hit Jesus’ skin and tore it open. As much as Jesus suffered, He is man and God, but Mary was just a human being.  How she must have suffered!  How strong she was. And can you imagine Her pain when He was nailed to the Cross.  The sound of each blow of the hammer must have been a blow to her as well.  And yet she did not falter.  (Mark 15:15)

And then, when Jesus hung upon the Cross.  She stood there and she lent Him her quiet strength.  She loved Him as only she could.  She may have broken on the inside, but she did not break on the outside. 

She, I am sure, trusted our Father, but that does not mean that she did not suffer for her Son.  As we would for our own.  She loved Him.  He was her boy.  Her Child.  And just as our sons are our “little boys” no matter how big they grow, He was Mary’s. And to see Him in such pain, pain that she could not ease, must have been so overwhelming, and yet she did not turn away. 

She stood there, loving Him with a quiet strength and dignity that I could never have.  All for Him, and for us.

It is a gift that I will never forget and never be able to thank Mary enough for.  And never be strong enough to offer myself.

Thank you Mary.