The mother of Jesus sat on the ground. Her tears fell into the dirt. Above her, Mary’s firstborn son was dying, nailed to a wooden cross. The deafening crowd was shouting “Crucify him!” The disciples had scattered, leaving only John by her side.
The chilling sight of her son, beaten and dying, must have shaken Mary to the core. I can picture her kneeling at the foot of the cross, taking in his violent death.
I often ponder what Mary thought, from her place there on the ground, the deafening shouts of the crowd filling the air around her. The mocking, the taunting, the resulting heartache.