O Lord, my Saviour, my spirit rejoices in you, for you....
-
Oh, Jesus. This isn't as easy as I thought it would be.
Oh, my son, my child, my beloved child
- now my Saviour.
My whole being worships you, and yet
in my heart I still treasure those times when it was just you
and me.
Holding you close,
hearing your first words,
shepherding you
as you took your first steps,
watching over you,
binding your first scrapes - you were sooo adventurous;
it was always a challenge keeping you out of your father's workshop.
-
And now you watch over me.
-
-
Jesus, my heart still aches
when I recall your body arched
in pain, bleeding.
Your cries still haunt me.
It's hard to shake the image
of your lifeless body
wrapped in cloth and lying
- in a tomb.
-
Forgive me, dear son;
I almost lost my mind with grief.
I was blinded with my tears,
and in my fear
I didn't understand.
All I could feel
was the sword
piecing my very soul,
just as old Simeon promised.
-
And then,
when I saw you again,
whole, restored....
Oh how I loved to see that smile again, to feel
your arms around me once more, to hear
your laughter, to draw in
your warmth as we shared a meal,
just like we used to.
-
But you were taken again so soon.
-
I know you had to go, but
oh, how I missed you.
-
(Deep breath)
-
But I'll tell your story
- so many want to hear my story.
The boys promise to write it down,
but I'll still tell. It thrills me every time I tell it,
for how can written words capture you, your love, your presence.
-
-
You spoke of a gift.
Well, as you probably know, it arrived
right on time.
You said that if we waited here in Jerusalem,
we would be bathed in YOUR Holy Spirit.
And now I see.
I almost weep with joy when I hear
young John and the rest of your friends
speaking in your name.
-
I recognise your voice, you see,
I recognise your heart,
in their words.
It's -
it's just like you're still here.
Thank you for not leaving your old mum alone.
I'll see you soon,
my Jesus.