Bitter is my sorrows

     Jesus stands before the Sanhedrin, before the High priests, before His people, and yet "we" still cry out "crucify him". Will there ever be a day when I have not disappointed my Lord? When I have chosen the narrow path? Yet, He still proclaims forgiveness and love for my soul....

     There is a reason why the skies are cloudy and dark during Holy week. On Fridays before His crucifixion. The Heavens, recalling that memory of our Lord's passion and death. 

     I cry out, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word and my soul will be healed". I say it, with great sorrow at my unwillingness to be a complete child of God. At my realization that I am the cause of such a cruel death. My sins are mingled with that of Judas's and all those who so long ago listened to the evil whispers of satan. My heart is heavy. "Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner". I depend on your mercy. I count on it. How many times must I fall before I do not take this Mercy for granted? My heart weeps bitterly at my sins. Precious Jesus, hold my hand. You see me as a child. I see myself as an ungrateful human who is not worthy. I should be wiping the blood from your Holy face but yet instead You wipe my unholy soul. 

     I need your Grace. I need your Mercy. I need You. In every second of my life. I think about that beautiful Mother Mary, our Mother, who watched you suffer. Why is this not enough for me? My pride overwhelms me. It sucks the life out of me. Forgive me my Lord. Forgive me my precious Mother. Lift me and hold me in your arms where I may cry and tell you that I'm sorry. Keep me there always. Do not let my blindness that the world tries so heavily to keep me in stop you from helping me. 

     Shine the great light of mercy upon me and keep me close within the folds of your cloak, oh St Joseph. I am in bitter sorrow. Waiting, praying for the seconds to pass until the final moment when salvation triumphs over that cruel cross. 

     Woe to my soul as I wait it drags on so. Bitter is my sorrow because of it. Oh come sweet relief. Imperishable Joy of Our Risen Lord. The sadness shall be turned into happiness as the King has triumphed over death.