Mary's Treasureنموونە
Grief Entombed
As I walk to the tomb, I regret all the things
That I had thought treasures, such pain they now bring.
I clutch my gray stone once more shrouded in doubt
What now of the prophesies I’d learned about?
The nails I had carried his hands stretched out wide
Like pottery, body crushed, undignified.
My son drank harsh herbs lifted by hyssop pole.
Is Yahweh who parted seas not in control?
The white swatch of swaddling, just a small scrap
Now mirrors his grave clothes I tenderly wrap.
My hay strand recalls that God works all for good
I want to believe but don’t see how He could.
About this Plan
In this devotional written from the perspective of Jesus' mother, Mary vulnerably and honestly details the intimate moments of her experience as a mom. In each compelling scene, Mary treasures a small token to remember it by. Little does she know the divine significance each item will play in the ultimate purpose of her son’s role on earth.
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