To Desire His Smile | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: To Desire His Smile | Previous Challenge Entry
By Beatrice Ang
01/24/05
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“Father! Into thy hands I commit my spirit.”

Barely a few minutes had gone by before the sky began to darken. Up on the hill, three men hung dead ...one bearing the weight of the world on his head. Down below, cold drops of rain descended upon the people who stood mourning for them. It was the worst of days for the people of Jerusalem…especially for the mother of the innocent man.

Mary’s body shivered as the fierce wind ravaged the earth. It blew across her face, drying every tear as soon as it threatened to fall. Her eyes wide open, she stood staring up at her son’s bloodied face…wondering why.

“Mother.”

All she ever desired was her son’s smile.

But today, her heart ached as though a hand had broken through her chest and taken away her very soul…she had not expected it to come to this. Not really.

“Mother…” it was John’s voice. “We should be going back.”

Mary turned her pale face toward him. For a moment, she was startled by what seemed to be her reflection…their features held the same kind of grief…the same lines growing and deepening. John’s pain seemed to have lost him all his youthful good looks.

“God is crying, mother.” John repeated slowly, his lifeless eyes riveting to the skies. “We should go now before his grief turns into anger.”

Mary looked up too. The dark clouds tumbled around…rumbling with the sound of thunder as rain fell even harder. The people had begun to disperse, some screaming, as series of lightning flashed through the dark sky.

John took hold of her hand and pulled her along with the people who ran.

The journey home was neither dire nor pleasant. Both were deep in thought without truly thinking of anything…only a massive black space that living could not truly determine.

John led Mary to a wooden chair and sat her down. He knelt before her and placed his cloak around her shoulders.

“Mother ---” John’s voice cracked as the words escaped his lips. It hurt him to speak anymore. How long had he been trying to control his emotions? All he wanted was to cry for his dead friend…to uncover all his distress…yet he knew he mustn’t… it was from him that Mary drew strength and his weakness would be hers. Jesus' reason for making him his mother's guardian was clear. He cared for what would become of her when he finally left this world. Mary needed a son who would be there to comfort her in her pain...and John knew this was what Jesus had called him to do. Then I must get out of here. She must not see me cry. Swallowing whatever grief he felt, he attempted a smile. “I shall go and get you a drink of water.”

Mary fastened her eyes on the apostle’s face. His expression betrayed no weakness…yet in his eyes she saw something a mother could well understand. John needed her as much as she did him. Did Jesus himself not know this?

Dear woman, behold thy son.

She grasped the young man’s arm and willed him to see. “Do not hide your tears, my son. If Jesus meant anything to you, then mourn for him…as I shall. We will. Together.”

John’s eyes widened as he studied the mother's face. What was she saying? He was there to comfort her! Not the other way around. But Mary held his hand and looked him in the eye...and finally, he too saw. Christ not only thought of his dear mother while he was breathing his last…he thought of his disciple too.

Behold thy mother.

The mask of strength fell from John’s whole being as he reluctantly placed his head on Mary’s lap. The hand that began to stroke his hair was weak and failing…yet filled with the compassion of a mother’s touch. John could tell Mary was weeping…and he too began to cry.

“When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he said unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then said he to the disciple, Behold thy mother!” (KJV)

In that instant, Mary once more… saw Jesus smile.

E.N.D.

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