I like to read. And write stories mostly.

If I am unable to sleep at night, I begin a story in my head. It may eventually get to written form, but most don’t get past being a possible story idea.

I have often wondered what Mary was thinking as she stood long hours at the cross, so I’ve come up with a possible conversation she may have had with herself!

“Is this what Simeon meant? That lovely older man who met Joseph and me at the Temple the day we took Jesus to be dedicated when he was just days old. He made sure he told me that “sorrow like a sharp sword would break my heart.” 

That’s what it feels like today, a sword twisting a little bit more every time Jesus groans in pain or struggles to breathe.”

Minutes slip by as Mary wipes away a few stray tears. The conversation starts again.

“It was interesting that when the sky darkened around noon, the rubberneckers and most of the verbal abusers drifted away. I was pleased the soldiers had kept most of those people from getting too close to the cross, and once the darkness had fallen, there wasn’t so much to see. The sudden darkness frightened many, and they anxiously headed home.

Mary Magdalene and Mary of Clopas are here with me, as are John and his mother, Salome, who comes and goes from time to time. Others are still standing vigil, the disciples aren’t too far away, and some women who travelled from Galilee with us are huddled in groups just out there.”

I can hear Jesus struggling to breathe again, so he shifts his position, but that only brings soft moans of pain, and so it goes on a never-ending cycle. He has been up there for hours, and it could be many more hours. What then?

Life after today isn’t going to be the same, is it? Where to from here?

I know Jesus spoke of his death; he’d talked to me about it a few times, as he did with his disciples. I also know he talked about being raised up. I’m not quite sure what he meant by that, but I do know he won’t be here. What do we, his followers, do now without him to lead us?

Where will I live? I’m probably not welcome to live with my family now; they don’t think much of Jesus and his ministry. Perhaps some of us women followers could make a home together. Oh, dear Joseph, what would you have made of all this?”

Mary stops the conversation in her head to listen to Jesus.

“Woman”, Mary looked up to meet  Jesus‘s  gaze upon her, “ Behold your Son.” Then his gaze shifted to John, who was standing beside me, “ Behold your Mother.”

John laid his arm across my shoulders, and we both nodded in acknowledgement.

In those few words, Jesus had secured Mary’s future physical and spiritual well-being, the last act of a first-born son for his Mother.

We shall leave Mary to her thoughts now as she waits for what will come, perhaps soon.

NOTE: Marcia wrote and shared this reflection on John 19:26-27 during our 29 March Good Friday service.