Trust in Him

Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Fourth Station

V: We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You. (Genuflect)

R: Because, by Your holy cross, You have redeemed the world. (Rise)

V: Consider how the Son met his Mother on His way to Calvary. Jesus and Mary gazed at each other and their looks became as so many arrows to wound those hearts which loved each other so tenderly (Kneel)

R: My most loving Jesus, / by the pain You suffered in this meeting / grant me the grace of being truly devoted to Your most holy Mother. / And You, my Queen, who was overwhelmed with sorrow, / obtain for me by Your prayers / a tender and a lasting remembrance of the passion of Your divine Son. / I love You, Jesus, my Love, above all things. / I repent of ever having offended You. / Never allow me to offend You again. / Grant that I may love You always; and then do with me as You will.

(Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be.)

Is there one who would not weep,
'whelmed in miseries so deep
Christ's dear Mother to behold.

I am sitting on my heels in the corner of a small house. In the air is the fresh scent of sawdust and it is very warm. I snuggle down a little further into the little dip by the corner in which I am sitting, and watch a beautiful woman in blue as she puts aside a garment she was mending and sits down weakly. Her face, so soft and plush, looks serene... and her dark brown eyes are downcast. She doesn't see him come in, but I do. He is handsome, and his whole being radiates compassion. He has a tender smile playing on his lips as he goes to her and takes her into his arms to comfort her: "You are sad now, but you will be happy and no one will take that happiness away. Mother, you share my pains but there is a greater joy that awaits us..." The woman's eyes, full of agony, gently close and open again with an air of contentment.

Suddenly, I am no longer sitting in the cozy little room, but I am standing in among many people and there is a stench in the air. I see the woman, beautiful, though her clothes are stained with blood and her face is stained with tears. Walking to her was the man, and I could hardly bear the sight! His handsome face is torn and bloody, His shoulders hang low from the weight of a great wooden cross. I could imagine that beneath His clothes was a form writhing with pain, and His feet which scraped along the earth from the burden He was carrying we almost undefinable as all His toes were stuck together and coated with blood and sores. The woman was looking at Him, and I saw her face. She had one single tear still clinging to her eye, and she wiped it away with her veil. In her eyes was the look of the greatest pain, but her mouth opened in a gentle smile. For a moment, their eyes met, and she looked at Him earnestly, almost beseechingly. Her eyes must have been more than he could bear, for He removed one arm from the cross and laid his hand on her face. "Mother" was all he said, but he did not need to say more. He turned his face away, and his next steps were determined.

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