What a week. It's been just dreadful. There were times I didn't think I would get through it. Jesus told me so many things over his time as my Master and Teacher. Too many to take in at once. When he talked about going to Jerusalem I was a little worried because Jerusalem can be scary especially at Passover. There always seems to be a Roman Soldier at the ready for any trouble.
It was some arrival I've got to say. The greeting, and the crowd cheering it was one of those days I didn't want to end. Then the week just went all wrong. I couldn't understand what was happening. It was all too hard and horrible to watch and keep up with. Yet I was so much a part of it I could not leave. Not for one moment. I'm so sad and tired, upset and confused, lonely and frightened that I'm struggling to think straight.
Jesus said he would have to die but I did not really believe it would happen. Not like this. I've somehow found the strength to do what I had to help do. Jesus has a nice resting place and I helped clean him, and cover him and I was able to spent a little time to say goodbye. A huge stone was rolled over the entrance to the tomb and Roman guards placed on duty round the clock.
Today I just could not stay away. Today I should have been able to take some fresh flowers and herbs and ointment. Today I should have been able to take care of Jesus body as I feel I should. That stone would almost take half the Roman Army to move. It took enough of them to put it there. If I can do nothing else I will sit beside the tomb and think about better times and try to piece together some of the things Jesus said.
Oh, my goodness. Whatever has happened? Am I so tired and stressed I'm seeing things. There is no soldiers on guard and the stone's been rolled away.
This is impossible, it can't be happening, it can't be real.
It is real, it is happening. Jesus. Where are you? Where has your body gone.
Who has taken it? I must find Jesus. I must find where they have taken him.
"Sir, they have taken my Lord's body and I don't know where. Please help me. Tell me where they have taken him."
Then this man said my name. "Mary." Was I hearing right. It can't be. My ears are playing tricks on me. No one else says my name like that. No one else would know how to. I caught my breath and concentrated. Then I knew. Instinctively I knew.
It is Jesus. That is exactly the sound of his voice. No one could be pretending and get it just right. There is no doubt. Jesus is alive. He told me to go and tell the others.
I just wanted to stay there. To stay put. To soak in the moment. To hear my name again spoken in a way I will never forget.
But Jesus said again - to and tell the others.
Suddenly I'm not sad and tired, upset and confused, lonely and frightened.
I'm still struggling to think straight but that is because I'm amazed, I'm so happy. My feet are so light they hardly want to touch the ground. I'm jumping over stones and bushes and anything that is going to stop me from taking the fastest route to where the disciples are staying.
All the time my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might pop right out of my body. Jesus is alive he is not dead any more. I've seen him, I've spoken to him.
He is real. He said the Son of Man would die and on the 3rd day would be raised to life. His promises are real. Everything he said is true. He is still with me. He is still my master and my teacher and my Lord. This is for me. This is for all of us.
I just hope I will have enough breath left in me to tell the others.
Thank goodness - I'm almost there.