My thoughts on Good Friday as a holiday have changed somewhat since having a son. Even saying that, it’s crazy to me that I have a son. What a gift he is to us. I keep looking at him, and fearing in the back of my mind that something bad is going to happen and I could somehow lose him. I truly think that has become my biggest fear, a fear that runs so deep it’s hard to even vocalize it. That may be the first time I have admitted it out loud actually. I think the reason for this is that it hurts me, pains my heart inside to even think about the thought of something bad happening to him. Sometimes when I let my mind wander, it goes to these thoughts and I quickly try to run from them, faster and harder than I’ve ever made my mind run from anything. It’s such an uncomfortable place to be. I switch to day dreaming about his future, about whether he’s going to grow up to look like his daddy or me, about what sports he might play, or activities he might enjoy, about what job he will do, who he will marry, about just anything that is positive. Most of all, I just pray that God would protect him and attempt in a feeble way to truly trust him that he will. I’m not sure what it is about human nature that makes us think of the bad things that could happen, or maybe it’s just me who does that.
I could stare at his little eyes all day, couldn’t you?
Truly, I’ve learned that a mother’s love for a child runs so deep, bone deep. He is a part of us, a living, breathing, little human that has our genes, and that we will do our best to love all of our life. This includes doing our best to keep him safe and to keep him from harm as best as we can. Now, all of this rambling does have a purpose: bringing me to Good Friday. If I’m honest, I haven’t really thought much about this day in the past, which seems crazy since today we celebrate one of the most crucial days that the Christian faith is based one. But this year is different. As I stood over Bradford’s crib a couple of nights ago, I stared at him with a song running through my head that we have been singing at youth group: “Were you there when they crucified my Lord… were you there when they laid him in the tomb… Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.” The tears welled up in my eyes as it hit me that God was there, he had to endure watching his son die a most awful death. When I cannot stand for my thoughts to even wander towards Bradford being hurt in any way, it makes me overwhelmed thinking about the pain that went through the heart of our God as he watched his son suffer and die. He not only watched it happen, he knew all of Jesus’ life that this day would occur. He knew what was going to happen when he saw him as a baby, when he watched him grow, when he saw the beautiful eyes and heart of Jesus…he knew.
I feel so saddened by what happened that awful day when Jesus died, but so thankful at the same time that he did. With this weekend comes emotions of sorrow and joy, mourning and rejoicing, but most of all, thankfulness that he endured what he did out of love for us. I look forward to this weekend when we celebrate Easter Sunday, and sing the rest of the song as we rejoice: “”Were you there when he rose up from the grave…Sometimes I feel like shouting Glory, Glory, Glory.” I’m thankful for Good Friday, and more thankful for Easter and for the fact that our Savior rose. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.