Stations

Before I begin to write, I always pray.  I pray that I say the right things, to touch the right people.  I feel like people that are in a position to bring souls to Christ, or turn them away, are held to a higher standard on judgement day.  And whether I like it or not, I've been placed in this position.  So the last thing I want to do is make anyone think twice about Jesus and his miraculous resurrection. 

But when I prayed today, I felt the desire to share something I wrote down several years ago.  My initial thought, was "No...don't share that.  It doesn't have anything to do with your story.  People may not understand what you are saying.  They may not like it and may stop reading altogether."

With all of my negative thoughts telling me not to share it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I should.  So after much deliberation, here goes.  Maybe this message is intended for one specific person to read.  Maybe it's you...

This is something that occured to me one Friday during lent several years ago, before Max was even born . After stations of the cross in Eagle Lake, we sat for a while in adoration.  During this time, I asked God - "Why?  Why did you create us God?  You knew all the bad things that would happen.  You knew every sin that would be committed, every disappointment by every single person on Earth.  Why not just save yourself the heartache?" 

And as a reply, I heard - "If you knew everything your children would ever do wrong in their lives...everything to make you worry, to disappoint you, to anger you...would you have chosen not to have them?"

Wow!  Of course not!  There is nothing my children could ever do to make me wish I had not had them.  Never, ever!  If given the choice I would still want to give birth to all my children, Max and Madden included.   My love for them is unconditional. 

Aha!  I see...his love for us is unconditional.  He loves us so much, even when we do wrong, he loves us.  Wow!

So then I started to think about the stations of the cross.  He loved us so much, he gave up his only son.  Okay...but how does that relate to my love for my children.  Well, I was willing to go through body changing pain in order to bring them into the world.  So I compared childbirth to the stations of the cross. 

Station 1:  Jesus is condemned to death.  I find out I'm pregnant.  Both are lifechanging, yes.  But Jesus is given death and he suffers in silence.  Our family is given a new life and we proclaim the good news to all that we know.

Station 2:  Jesus accepts his cross.  Jesus carries the weight of our sins on the cross, quietly knowing that this will result in salvation.  I carry extra weight due to the baby growing inside me.  I suffer, yes, but not quietly.  Everyone will know my aches and pains.

Station 3:  Jesus falls the first time.  He was jabbed and prodded to get up.  With dignity and no retaliation, he got up and continued on.  Me, I begin to have contractions.  I think "oh no, get me to a doctor fast.  Make them stop."

Station 4:  Jesus meets his mother.  Her support comforts him, yet her grief increases his sorrow.  I meet my doctor at the hospital.  I'm getting anxious but excited.

Station 5:  Simon helps carry the cross.  Jesus is in such pain and he needed help.  My help - an epidural.  No pain...only peace for me. 

Station 6:  Veronica wipes Jesus' face.  She showed him love wiping blood and dirt from his face, bringing little comfort.  I have a nurse available for my every whim...any ache, any pain, any problems.

Station 7:  Jesus falls the second time.  With every fall reopening wounds.  Oh...the pain.  Me - contractions are stronger, more productive, but little to no pain. 

Station 8:  Jesus speaks to the women.  Jesus told them to weep for themselves and for their children instead of him.  I speak to our family.  They wait outside the door to meet the newest family member. 

Station 9:  Jesus falls a third time.  Exhausted, dire stress, intense pain - yet continues to pick up his cross and go on.  For me, contractions are maxed out, most productive.  Still little pain, dilation complete. 

Station 10:  Jesus is stripped of his garments.  Humiliating.  My legs are placed in the stirrups - also humiliating.

Station 11:  Jesus is nailed to the cross.  Nails pierced his body and pain jolted through it.  It is time for me to push.  Pushing is pain with purpose.  Probably what Jesus thought of his horrible pain.

Station 12:  Jesus dies on the cross.  A baby is born.

Station 13:  Jesus is taken down from the cross.  The nails that killed him are removed and he is laid in his mother's arms.  My baby is cut free of the placenta - the placenta that sustained his life for all those months, and placed in my arms. 

Station 14:  Jesus is laid in the tomb.  Mary kissed her son for the last time before leaving the tomb.  My baby is placed in a small portable crib and I kiss him for the first time. 

Station 15:  Jesus is resurected.  He is raised from the dead and eventually to his home in heaven.  Baby and I leave the hospital and head home to begin our new life.

When I think of the great contrast between what Jesus went through at each station and each step of childbirth, I see that my experiences pale in comparison...by a lot.  Again, in my conversation with God, I come to the realization of the great difference between his sufferings and mine...multiply that by a million.  That's how much greater his love is for us.  I know how much I love my children...to imagine he loves us that much more blows my mind.  God's love is so much stronger than human love - again, wow....