Good Friday

I can't stop crying. Just when I think I have it together the tears start again.  And tears are hard for me.

My "road" today is busy. I've done dishes through tears, laundry through tears, lunch and cleaning all through tears. I have to leave soon for the afternoon so a shower is next and I feel the sobs coming.  I don't want to go anywhere or do anything, I just want to find a quiet place to cry.

My children keep looking at me sideways and I just . . .

keep thinking of my Jesus and the road He walked today. All of these other things seem so insignificant when I think about what today should be about.

I want to grieve today. I want to shut myself up in my room and mourn for the suffering my Savior went through - the unspeakable agony of the road to Calvary.

I think of why and I feel my own agony multiply over my filthy, undeserved self.

I don't want to face the world today. I don't want you to see my filth and I don't want to see yours. I am angry with myself and with you and with my world.

I'm sorry for the beating and the thorns and the spikes and the sword. I'm sorry for the laughing and the taunting and the spitting.

I want the world to shake, I want darkness to come. I want to mourn today.

I want to be there, I want to scream at them to stop, I want to cry for my Savior.

I need to scream I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry. 

He did it because He loved, loves me. That's the only reason He needed.  And He would have done it had it been only me.

The weight of my ugliness is heavy today and His love is overwhelming me - which seems to make it harder.

Good Friday.

Sunday's coming.