My world changed the day he was born. I remember looking down at his small form in my arms and struggling to comprehend the new life I held. The world seemed so bright with his peaceful face looking toward mine. While our surroundings were chaotic, I did not even realize their presence. He was all I knew. He had ceased to cry for some time, and it looked as if he was trying to make sense of his new surroundings. I am sure they must have seemed so foreign and unwelcoming to him. I looked at his small face as he yawned and slowly drifted off to sleep. I wondered what his young mind thought of sleep. I never looked away from his face that night. I couldn’t. In fact, for several nights I was unable to find sleep. I wanted to make certain everything was not a dream, that he was truly in my life. My husband failed to sleep for more than short spans of time. He felt quite the same as me, possibly even more strongly.
     As my little boy grew, I thanked God for all the blessings he bestowed upon my husband and me. My son never brought me troubles through his personality or actions. He was, as many of the other women in town observed, a wonderful child. I never had to beg him to obey my requests. More often than not, he would find ways to help me around the house. His father always welcomed our son’s assistance. Many people did not believe the stories about my son, but they had only to spend a short amount of time with him to see he was the amazing child everyone described. He was so precious and so sweet. His eyes communicated a love more powerful than any I had ever experienced and a strength I could not fathom. Sometimes, I worried for him. He felt the sorrows of this world too deeply. The death of a neighbor’s family member, a crying child, or even a wounded animal would bring my son to tears. Yet when other children would say something hurtful, my little boy just looked at them and smiled his serene smile. His selflessness astounded me. Those days were wonderful, when he was young and always within my care. He was my son, and I would always be able to shelter him and protect him from the dangers of the world. I, like all mothers, fooled myself into believing I could shelter him from everything for all time.


     Seeing my son now, I wish I could return to those days. I couldn’t protect him. Instead, I must watch him suffer. I don’t understand. Why? What has he done to deserve this? He’s always been so good and kind. How can they stand by and laugh as my baby boy hangs between those two men, like some common criminal. Did they need to beat him so terribly? There’s so much blood. He never even tried to defend himself!
     He’s crying. Please, someone let me hold him I want to end his pain. My son, do not speak! You are suffering enough. Just breathe. My son, my son, your life should have given you more than those thorns embedded in your head. If only they would just allow me to give you some water and offer you words of comfort. I don’t understand how they can stand by you and watch as you die. How can they laugh as I watch my baby die?
     God, dear God, how can this be happening? I was told by an angel he was special, that he was your son. Why, then, is he dying a criminal’s death? I trusted you with his birth and his life. I believed you when you said he would save us. How can he save the world if he is condemned to die nailed to this tree? He should be bathed in glory, not blood. How can you not save him? You are Lord of all creation, with a legion of angels at your command. Can you not spare even one for your child? I am only human, I know, but I don’t understand what you are doing. I want to trust you in this, but my son is dying.

Lord, save your son. Save my sweet Jesus.