THY MOTHER'S HEART-SORROW OF SORROWS

THY MOTHER'S HEART - SORROW OF SORROWS 

I hold myself close to Thee, embracing your sorrow and misting my tears upon thy heart. No other mother, could ever endure, more, than you. 

O Mary, my Blessed Mother, the life of your Son, our Lord, has been taken away. I have heard your weeping, and embraced your broken heart of sorrow, I carry within. I offer Thee my tears of love, for you shall not weep, alone. I offer Thee my cloak of compassion, to absorb your reservoir of falling sorrowful tears. I offer Thee my arms of embrace, to comfort your trembling heart of torment. I offer Thee my heart, in remembrance of your Son, Jesus; for the crucifixion of your Son, will ever be, the most horrible, unjust event, of all mankind. The pains of those moments, you, my Blessed Mother, carry forever. Only a mother, could ever be so deeply hurt, to know such pain, to know such torment: to have carried your Son in thy womb, and see what they have done to Him. The wailing of those moments, I’ll never know, but my heart of inner sorrow, envisions myself with you, comforting your every pain, with compassion and mercy. For all this time that has passed, you have carried this sorrow within you, and have continued to see the rejection of your Son. What else, could anyone do, that your Son has not done? There is no other; there could never be, another. Only your Son, Jesus, is Lord and Savior: the Master of Divine Love, the Master of Divine Mercy, the Master of Salvation. 

O Mary, my Blessed Mother, the life of your children, are being taken away—the unborn, the unwelcome, the unnamed. The tears of your sorrow are many. They fall on me. They weigh me down. They have no end. I hear your weeping. I feel your sorrow. Such sadness: life so precious, meaningless to so many. For a woman, who carries a child in her chamber, she, decides life, or death? Like a fish in a pond, being caught in sport—discarded, unused, to die? Is this what people, call love? Is this what love, is? Is love, the crucifixion of each aborted baby? Is love, the termination of life, to benefit one’s own self? Is love, making judgments with no conscience? Is love, killing the innocent? Is love, killing a voice, not yet heard? Is love, taking away, love itself? How does one justify, that this, is love? 

For here, the man is the helper, but the woman—the keeper of child—cultivates life, growing and nourishing in her body. This gift, man will never know, but woman chosen: to create another, within herself. For this, is grace from the Creator—a divine complexity of nature: reproducing human life, a part of each, of two, into one. A mother, will always be a mother: a special being, a special reservoir, to create and reproduce another, in her own image. There is nothing like the warmth and comfort of a mother’s love; a mother’s arms of embrace, of softness; wisdom of a mother’s heart; a mother’s closeness: a love, that always teaches; always sacrifices, to the end of her days. 

O Mary, my Blessed Mother, you embrace us all—calling, waiting, interceding on our behalf. A mother’s love, always waits for her children; never wavers; never lets go; never gives up. Your loving arms extend outward—a compassionate extension of your heart, to mine. I take thy hand; let us walk, together, cloaked in our sadness, bonding our tears of sorrow; for I have found your heart, to comfort the clouds, of your despair. My heart, is with Thee; carry it to thy Son, to comfort the wounds of His inflictions. For my compassionate heart is the coolness, that helps to relieve the sting of rejection, for your Son, and the unborn. My Blessed Mother, hear my prayer: May your sadness be lightened, for you sought me out—I listened—and with the Cross of your Son in thy hands, converted my heart and soul to Him. I have taken Him down from the Cross, to evermore, embrace His wounds, and to embrace your tears, of sorrow. Lord Jesus, Mary, full of grace, fill me with your grace. Amen. 

Robert J. Varrick

rjvarrick@gmail.com