My heart gets sad when I picture Mary, the Virgin Mother of Jesus, standing outside the grave of Her beloved Son Jesus. Her clothes were probably covered in blood. His Blood. She had held him in Her mourning arms moments before. She probably had the task of preparing His Holy body. Washing off the dirt from His knees and arms from falling 3 times. Still holding the nails He was crucified with, and the thorned crown they put on His precious head. She stood there staring at the big boulder that closed Him in. Feeling its heaviness. Heavy was her heart also. Can She cry anymore tears? Heartache started when she got word of his arrest. She probably ran. Not walked, to where they had taken Him.. Her 1st glimpse of Him was probably after the scourging. What a sight for mother to have to see... Oh! The torment of not being able to comfort Him except for the 1 time on the way to his death. They're eyes looked into each others. Being each other's comfort.
Standing at His side at the foot of the cross. She was there for His entrance into this world and She is there at His leaving. Now standing at the tomb. That cold, empty, dark place that She is forced to leave Him. How long did She stay before Her sorrow was complete?
Seeing this in my mind helps me contemplate just how much our Blessed Mother loves us. For there is no greater deed then to lay your child at the foot of the Throne of God and offer to Him the Sacrifice of your Love.