How to describe the feeling in a mother’s heart as she watches her child carted off to parts unknown behind restricted hospital doors? His name is called, and off my son walks…alone. Doesn’t seem to matter if the child is 8 months or 18 years old, the mom feeling is the same and the body involuntarily reacts as tears well, watching him dutifully follow the technician.
I felt an acute sense of physical connection to this child who was once inside of me, a part of me for nine special months. Do we ever truly separate from our children?
My son had to swallow the nasty chalky liquid, and lie on the metal table to be scanned, but he wasn’t alone; I was with him. Did he feel me?
I recall the familiar helplessness as my 2-year-old walked down a similar corridor years ago, in his teeny hospital gown, trustingly clutching the nurse’s hand. The same feeling re-occurred later as two more sons needed surgery. Double the dread.
Throughout these last 25 years my sons were hospitalized for a couple three-day stints. There was absolutely no question that I would spend all nights with them – that I was not leaving the hospital until I took them home with me. We were one. I couldn’t have broken that invisible mom bond had I tried; it held me tight.
What must Mary have felt as she watched her Son being carted off to parts unknown? "Helpless" can’t come remotely close, just as stitches and surgeries can’t hold a candle to crucifixion and death. Yet Jesus’ mother stood firm; she stayed with her Son until the end witnessing…feeling…the indescribable abuse.
The invisible mom bond held her close, kept her one with her Child. Jesus felt her strength, and surely was comforted by her presence. This time the Son went Home before the mother, but the mother/Son bond remained unbroken. Each was with the other.
Hopefully, the next time we moms gaze up at Jesus on the crucifix we will no longer see him as being all alone. We’ll see a mother’s love surrounding Him.
Copyright 2009 Maureen Locher
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