Woman, Here Is Your Son

The cry from the cross echoes down through the ages,

‘Woman, here is your son’.

It is a humbling cry for

it is a genuine cry.

While enduring the most agonising pain possible,

he thought of others?

‘Woman, here is your son’.

So often I put me first.

My feelings.

What I want.

What suits me.

I do want to care.

To be considerate.

And sometimes I am.

But sometimes I’m not.

‘Woman, here is your son’.

Oh, Father of all compassion,

help me catch hold of that echo.

Its love,

its genuineness,

and, in doing so, realise that

I can care.

The strength of every echo is

its source.

Your compassion will flow through me

if I permit it.

Help me to listen to your echo.

All it means,

all it stands for.

Enable me to let it resound into my life and days.

May I never let your echo fade.

‘Woman, here is your son’.


Lord Jesus

I don’t know what to say.

You thought of me?

Beyond the cross,

the pain,

the rejection,

you thought of me?

Before yourself?

May I

in some small way

follow your example.


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