The Parents of the Class of 2020

“This is only the ending of the first chapter of a grand adventure.” Author Unknown

When Alex told me that UConn didn’t have graduation ceremonies in December, I was devastated. Alex missed a semester for health reasons, so he was not able to finish his college education in May 2017 with his classmates. He had to stay one additional semester, so he ended up graduating in December. He took all his cap and gown pictures, and he asked if he could participate in the May ceremony, but the answer was “no.” He had the opportunity to return to campus in May 2018, and participate then. Of course, I knew that was not going to happen. By that time, he already had a full-time job down here, and it just didn’t make sense for him to go back to Connecticut when he had even received his diploma already. Besides, those were not his classmates. He was part of the class of 2017, not the class of 2018. 

I always have that sadness in my heart that we missed out on something important. I had enjoyed his brother and sister’s graduations tremendously. There is something special about hearing your child’s name being called out, and seeing them walk across the stage to receive their diploma. Yes, even if it’s a pretend diploma. And that is why my heart goes out today to the parents of the class of 2020.

A lot has been said and a lot has been written about the class of 2020, but not much about the parents of the class of 2020. Don’t get me wrong, my heart goes out too to the class of 2020.  Their year was cut short. They missed out on their prom, on the end-of-year senior activities, on their last days with their friends and on their graduation. But they will get over it. Their year may have been cut short but their dreams won’t. They have their entire lives ahead of them. But for their parents, the graduation ceremony is like their crowning glory. I know that Alex didn’t mind missing out on his college graduation as much as I did. He attended as a guest to what should have been his graduation, and I remember he told me: “You didn’t miss anything, mom, it was long and boring.” But I did miss that special moment that marks the culmination of all the sacrifices we put ourselves through so that he could have the best education possible.

I know how the parents of the class of 2020 are feeling today. It’s like when you are reading a book, and just when you are about to reach the end, when you are about to read that exciting conclusion that you have been waiting for, you realize that the last pages of the book are missing. Since the very first day that these parents took their child to kindergarten, they have made sure their children woke up early to get to school on time. They have driven them to school every morning during rush hour traffic. They have run back in the afternoon to pick them up. They have stayed up late at night to help them with their science project that is due the following day. They have sat with them to teach them their spelling words, to practice their reading, and to help them with their math homework. They have allowed their kitchen to be converted into a science lab. They have taken time off work to go on field trips. They have rushed to school to pick their child up because he had a fever. They have experienced every growing pain from kindergarten to middle school to high school. And finally, when they are on the final chapter of their child’s education, when they are about to reach the end and enjoy the conclusion of all their years of sacrifice, they realize that the last pages have been ripped out. So whether it’s a high school or a college graduation, today my heart goes out to them. I mourn with them the pictures that they could not take and the speeches that they could not listen to in person. I can hear the song “pomp and circumstance” playing in the distance, like an echo of what should have been but was taken away by a little bug that came to steal the last pages of the book.

And yet, I am in awe at the creativity of this 2020 group of parents. I feel like they have 20/20 vision. As I walked around the golf course near my house this past month, I saw countless houses with signs on their front yards congratulating the graduate that lived in that particular house. I have seen caravan after caravan of cars parading in front of the houses on what would have been graduation day. These parents who missed out on one of the most important days of their child’s life, made sure that their child had their special day no matter what. Maybe the book did not have the ending that they were expecting, but it definitely had a surprising and unexpected conclusion. And thus, the parents of the class of 2020 will go down in history as the most innovative group of parents who had the 20/20 vision to come up with the most creative ways to celebrate their child’s graduation in spite of all the obstacles brought on by this pandemic. And even though the little bug stole the last pages of the book, these parents re-wrote the ending in ways that no one could have predicted. I know a mom that created a video for her daughter with messages from all her family and friends. Another one had the fire and police departments lead the two-mile long caravan that drove in front of their house on graduation day. And many others arranged surprise video parties to celebrate their child’s special day in spite of social distancing.

It’s been almost three years since Alex finished college, and even though we don’t have any graduation pictures or memories, he has accomplished all his dreams. And at the end of the day, that is more important than the graduation itself. So parents of the class of 2020, you will get over it. The most important thing is not this moment in time, but all the timeless moments that you will get to spend with your child in the future. This little bug may have stolen the last pages of this book, but he did not steal their future. Their dreams are not over, they are just beginning. So grab your child’s hand, and walk into the next chapter of their lives, knowing that together, you were part of history.

Congratulations to the class of 2020!!! And cheers to the parents!!! May you have lots of reasons to celebrate all their future dreams.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

Unmasking the Truth

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less." Marie Curie

When the coronavirus began, we were told that masks were not necessary. Now, masks are mandatory in most enclosed places. The virus will dissipate when the weather gets warmer. We live in sunny Miami, and the virus came to visit us too. The best way to combat this virus is to build immunity, however, we must remain in quarantine. But I’ve always heard that we build immunity by coming in contact with the virus. The virus can live in surfaces for two hours... no, that’s wrong, it can live for four hours... no, that’s wrong too, it can live for six hours... Stay home. Go out as long as you stay six feet apart. You can go to the park, but not to the beach. Animals are not affected... except for tigers. Stay away from people over sixty because they are more sensitive to the virus. People over sixty can all go shopping together before 8 am because it’s fine if they are close to each other, they just need to stay away from people younger than 60. The virus began in China. No, not really, it began in a Princeton lab and was sent to China by Fedex.

I have been receiving so many contradictory messages that it has gotten to the point that I’m wearing my mask to cover my ears instead of my mouth. I don’t even want to look at the news anymore. In the morning I hear one thing, and at night, the message is totally different... in the same channel. I won’t even mention the different messages coming from different channels.

This week, I had my yearly physical. I considered cancelling it because I feel perfectly healthy, and I did not want to risk going to a doctor’s office. But after thinking about it, I decided to go more than anything else because I wanted to talk to my doctor. I respect my doctor tremendously. He is extremely smart. He went to Harvard for his undergrad and then went to UM Medical School. He reads a lot. He is in top of all the latest medical discoveries. A few years ago, I discovered by accident, literally, that I have a condition in my brain known as a “Chiari malformation” in which brain tissue extends into my spinal canal. Apparently, I’ve had this since birth, but I learned about it when I fractured my wrist. Since I also hit my head when I felt down, they did a CT scan of my head, and that is how this condition was discovered. I figured that since this was from birth and it’s never bothered me, I was not going to have the MRI that they recommended at the hospital. But when my doctor learned about this, he researched it and gave me more information than I ever cared to know about this “Chiari” condition. But that is who he is. He will give you all the facts whether you want them or not. Therefore, I was very interested in asking him what he had learned regarding Covid-19.

I spent half an hour with him, hardly talking about my health, but mostly drilling him with questions about the coronavirus. First of all, he is testing all his patients. Yes, I got tested too. It’s a long-term test that shows whether you’ve had the virus in recent months. By the time I went to see him, on his second week of testing, he had tested approximately one hundred patients. And all of them, including me, tested negative. Well, all except for his guinea pig. This patient had been in the hospital with coronavirus, so he tested him simply to ascertain that the test was working. And it was because this patient tested positive. He told me that he was surprised with all the negative results because if we go by the rumors out there, there are hundreds of people walking around that have contracted the virus and they don’t even know it. Obviously, this is not true, otherwise, at the very least, a few of his patients would have tested positive. He even tested himself, and he was pretty certain he would test positive since he had been in contact with patients who thought they had a cold, and it had turned out to be COVID-19. And yet, he tested negative.

I won’t go into details about our lengthy conversation, but I will just mention a few things that he told me that stayed with me. There is not enough knowledge yet about this virus to know the whole truth of how it is transmitted, and why it affects some people so badly and others not. He did say that he has noticed that people with low levels of vitamin D, across all age groups, get affected worst than those that have normal levels of vitamin D.

He also told me that in the thirty plus years that he has been a doctor, he has never seen anything like it. He has seen patients in the hospital whose lungs have been totally destroyed by this virus. And those that have survived tell him that they have never felt worst in their lives. He says that because of what he has seen, he will continue to quarantine himself and his family, even if restaurants and stores start to open up.

I must say that after I spoke with him, I felt a whole lot better. I have to confess that after Mother’s Day, I felt that maybe I was exaggerating this whole thing of staying away from my own kids and my mom. After seeing a lot of friends posting pictures on Facebook last Sunday, celebrating in their homes with their mothers and kids who do not live in the same house, I felt guilty. I shared this with a friend this week, and she felt exactly the same way. But after talking to my doctor, I realized that I have no reason to feel guilty for being cautious.

This week, our city will begin to reopen. And I can only hope and pray that my friends and family continue to be cautious. I hope that we won’t let down our guard because this is a very serious virus that has already claimed the lives of over 300,000 people worldwide. And yes, we could claim that this is just another flu, and that the flu also claims a lot of deaths, but I think that this would be like comparing apples to oranges. The Journal of the American Medical Association published on May 14th that in the U.S. there were 20 times more deaths per week from COVID-19 than from the flu in the deadliest week of an average influenza season. No other flu has caused this disruption in our entire world. We all have a certain responsibility to stop this thing from continuing to spread, and we can only do that through a certain amount of sacrifice.

Even though, at this time, we may still not be able to unmask the truth completely, there is one truth that is certain. We cannot allow our fear to turn into paranoia. Fear is normal. I don’t think we would be humans if we didn’t feel a certain amount of worry during these uncertain times. When the apostles were hiding in the upper room after Jesus was crucified, they were afraid too. But Jesus came to them and He calmed their fears. He will do the same for us if we allow Him. So if listening to all these contradictory messages is causing us to be afraid, then it’s best to stop listening to all this garbage and search for the truth from a source that we do trust.

We humans get stronger when we are put through the fire. And one day, we will be able to shake hands once again. We will be able to hug. We will not have to wear masks forever. And we will not need to wash our hands fifty times a day. And when that day comes, we will be better because we lived through this pandemic together, and we endured. In the meantime, let’s all stay calm, pray and take vitamin D.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

The Fear of Being Near

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” 

— Franklin D. Roosevelt

When Rafael and I got married 35 years ago, we rented a small one bedroom apartment near FIU. We were still going to college, and we lived on a tight budget. Our routine included cleaning our apartment once a week. We used to split up our duties. Rafe had bathroom duty and vacuum cleaner, while I would clean the kitchen and dusted the furniture.

When I got pregnant four years later, and was put on bed rest for a couple of months, we hired a cleaning lady for the first time. And then we kept her... forever. Cleaning the house was a duty that I definitely didn’t miss. If I had to cut anything out of our budget, I would rather cut out the beauty salon than my cleaning lady.

When the quarantine started two months ago, we had to add cleaning to our routine. Honestly, our home has never been this clean. As much as I love my cleaning lady, I’ve discovered corners that had never been dusted. However, I am so exhausted, that I can’t wait for those corners to get filled with dust again. It was definitely a lot easier to clean when I was twenty years old than it is now. I have pain in muscles that I didn’t even know I had. I am so looking forward to being able to bring back my cleaning lady. But for now, the fear of being near is keeping her away.

Every morning, we go for a walk around the golf course. Just two months ago, whenever we crossed paths with someone, we said good morning, and continued on our merry way. Now, when we see someone coming, we leave the sidewalk and start walking on the street. If someone is coming on the street, we return to the sidewalk. We now wave them good morning from afar. Our morning walks have become a zigzag from sidewalk to street and back again. “Zigzag, zigzag, everybody, everywhere. Zigzag, zigzag, everybody do your share.” I sing and I zigzag as I walk, all because of the fear of being near.

Our building elevators are limited to four persons, but most people feel that even two persons is too much. If I’m inside the elevator on my way down, and the elevator stops on another floor, most people won’t get in because of the fear of being near. The first time that it happened, I felt so unloved. But now I do it too because I have also been overcome by the fear of being near.

When we go to the grocery store, we must wait outside in a line, and we must stand at least six feet apart from the person in front of us. Only a limited number of persons are allowed to go in. And once inside, the aisles are one way. God forbid we cross another person on the same aisle. We must maintain our distance because of the fear of being near.

In Cuba, going to mass had to be done in hiding. I never expected that I would not be allowed to attend mass in Miami, but for the past two months, the churches have been closed... yes, you guessed it, the fear of being near. Luckily for us, as opposed to the last pandemic one hundred years ago, we now have technology, therefore, we can now attend mass from our own living rooms. The fear of being near cannot keep us from being near our Lord. 

All this social isolation has made us afraid to be too close to others. Everyone we see could potentially be infected. Even our own family members must stay six feet apart. Rafael has been cooking on Sundays, and then we go to deliver the food to our kids and to my mom. But we don’t even get off the car. We open the trunk, and the kids pick up the food themselves. This past Sunday, for Mother’s Day, we did a caravan for my mom. My kids went too, but everyone in their own cars. Then, we had a virtual brunch. It’s been eight weeks since the last time I gave a hug or a kiss to my own kids or to my mom. If someone had told me three months ago that I was going to be afraid of being near my own family, I would have laughed in their face. But now being near my mother could mean that I could infect her. Hugging my daughter may put her at risk. Kissing my son may get him sick. Or it could be the other way around. It could be me the one that catches the virus. And we are all so terrified, that we have become infected with the fear of being near.

Next week, we were supposed to travel to Germany and Austria. The flight has been cancelled. The hotels and restaurants are closed. The tickets that we had for a concert in Salzburg were refunded because the concert won’t be taking place. Today, I was picking up the room that I have been using as my office, and I found the “Germany” travel book. I put it away, not knowing when we will be able to go on that trip. We are afraid to be confined inside a plane because of the fear of being near.

I cannot wait to see my apartment dirty once again. It will mean that the quarantine has come to an end. It will mean that my kids will be able to visit. It will mean that we can have friends and family over for a meal. It will mean that we can go out and bring the dirt from outside without fear that it’s contaminated. We won’t have to clean the soles of our shoes with Lysol wipies. The churches, restaurants and stores will reopen. But most importantly, we will be able to hug and cuddle. We will be able to spread the love and the dirt in equal measurements. The fear of being near will be over.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

My Mother... Authentic in Hard Times

“Hard times arouse an instinctive desire for authenticity.”  —Coco Chanel

I have a vivid image of being a little girl and standing in a line with my mother to buy cotton. Making lines was a common occurrence in Cuba, so common that when I was little, I used to play pretend that I was making a line. My mom says that sometimes she would see me standing in the middle of the room, and every few minutes I would take a step forward. She would ask me: “what are you doing?”, and I would tell her that I was standing in line. I used to line my dolls in a row and pretend that they were making a line to go to Copelia, a very famous ice cream shop in Havana. As a matter of fact, when I was born, it was the only ice cream shop in Havana. 

But going back to the cotton, I recall that we were on our way home, and we passed by a store that had just received a shipment of cotton. In communist Cuba, you had to take what was available when it was available. I have no idea if we had cotton at home, if we needed cotton or if we had not seen cotton in a year. All I remember is that we got this package of cotton that came wrapped in a dark blue paper. We were only allowed to get one, but I recall that once we got it, my mom told me to stand aside with the package of cotton, and she got back in line to get a second package, and a third, and a fourth. I remember wondering why we needed so much cotton, but I did not ask, and soon forgot all about the cotton.

This weekend, we are celebrating Mother’s Day, and for the first time in my life, I have been able to experience an inkling of what my mother lived in communist Cuba. My mother was born into a middle class family. My grandparents had traveled from Spain to Cuba looking for better opportunities. They both found them in the fashion industry. My grandfather became a talented tailor, and my grandmother an accomplished seamstress. They met in that world, felt in love and got married. They only had one daughter, and my mother became the center of their lives.

Like most parents that have gone through hardships, they spoiled her and made sure that she lived the best possible life that they could provide. They sent her to one of the top schools in Havana, the American Dominican Academy (ADA). My grandmother used to travel a lot to New York to purchase fabrics for her beautiful creations. Since she did not speak English, she encountered a lot of trouble when trying to communicate with the owners of the fabric stores in New York. She decided that my mother would not experience such difficulties, and that is why she chose for her a bilingual school. She wanted to make sure that my mother learned English since a very young age. It was probably one of the best decisions that she ever made, not knowing at the time that we would all end up in the United States. Eventually, when my mother was a bit older, she began to travel to New York with my grandmother, and she became her interpreter. 

I was talking recently to my mother about the class of 2020, and how sad that they were not able to experience their last days of their senior year in school. “They are going to miss out on their prom and all the other activities, including the actual graduation.” She shared with me her own experience. My mother graduated from the ADA in May 1959, the same year that Fidel Castro took power in Cuba. He was Cuba’s worst kind of virus. He was the Castro virus. He came to destroy and disrupt their way of life. Even though my mother was able to enjoy her senior year activities, and she was the last class to have a graduation ceremony, the Castro virus did not allow them to have their graduation in the large amphitheater where all the previous graduations had taken place. Her graduation took place in the school patio. But at least, she was able to have a celebration. It would be the last year that Castro allowed graduations to take place. He came in like a storm, stealing everything in his path, including all the catholic schools. He closed them all, and he stole all the graduations and anything that brought joy to the people. 

My mother is very familiar with the difficult situation that the world is facing today because she lived through worst times from 1959 to 1969. She went from being a carefree teenage girl who was about to graduate high school and pursue a college education, to having to work instead. She went from enjoying a comfortable life to having to turn everything that she owned to the government. She went from spending days in the popular Havana clubs to spending hours doing lines to be able to buy a pound of sugar or a liter of milk or a package of cotton. In the blink of an eye, her world was turned upside down. And once again, six decades later, her world has been turned upside down. Our entire world has been turned upside down.

Today, I found “Angel Soft” toilet paper. I had been able to find other brands, but not my favorite. When I got out of Publix, I called her: “Mami, por fin encontré ‘Angel Soft’” (I finally found “Angel Soft”), I told her. She answered me that she had found some the other day and had it in the trunk of her car to give it to me. That’s my mother. In the midst of the hard times, she is always thinking of others first. She told me that she has in her trunk toilet paper for me, hand soap for my daughter who mentioned last Sunday that she had not been able to find it, Bounty paper towel for whomever needs it, and cans of food to drop off at the church.

On this weekend, I want to honor my mother, because I know that even though she has not said a word, this pandemic is being especially difficult for her. My mother is a people-person, so having to be isolated from her friends, from her family, from the world... has to be very hard for her, and yet, she has not uttered a word of complaint. Yes, every morning when I ask her: “How are you doing?”, she responds “aqui, lo mismo de lo mismo de lo mismo,” (here, the same, the same, the same.) I know she would give anything to be able to go to the mall, to go to lunch with her friends or to spend the day with me, but instead she goes around Miami searching for the toilet paper that she knows I like, or for a puzzle to give her grandkids or to every pharmacy in town looking for alcohol simply because I told her that I haven’t been able to find it anywhere, and she knows that alcohol has always been my Windex.

My mother has a lot of wisdom about facing difficulties. Instead of complaining, she finds a way to bring comfort to herself by helping others. And she doesn’t mince words, she is authentic. Just like Coco Chanel who stated, “Hard times arouse an instinctive desire for authenticity,” my mother is authentic. She lives an authentic life by being true to herself and others. And that is a big lesson that I am learning from her, because if you live authentically, hard times become easier to face. A few weeks ago when I mentioned that I could not find “Angel Soft” toilet paper, and that I had gotten spoiled because I was very picky about my toilet paper, she said to me: “En momentos difíciles, cualquier marca de papel higiénico sirve, hasta una servilleta sirve.” (In difficult moments, any brand of toilet paper is good; even a napkin works.” 

It took me fifty years to figure it out, but I finally understand why she stood in line to buy cotton, and why she kept going back for more. I can just imagine her delivering packages of cotton to all her neighbors, because that is my mother, always putting others needs ahead of her own. And when it comes to toilet paper, she is right, it doesn’t matter what brand it is, the important thing is that it serves its purpose. Yes, just like Coco Chanel, my mother has a lot of common sense and wisdom, and, fortunately, she is sharing that wisdom with me. But I still prefer my “Angel Soft,” and mom knows. Thank you for always thinking of me, mami. Feliz Día de las Madres. Happy Mother’s Day.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

A Lenten Journey with Mary: From Bethlehem to Jerusalem-Day 40

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb bringing the spices which they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men suddenly stood near them in dazzling clothing; and as the women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, ‘Why do you seek the living One among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen.” Luke 24:1-6

I woke up early on the first day of the week to go visit the tomb. John was up already, and he told me that he was going to go to Peter’s house, and he would meet me at the tomb. When I was getting ready to go, I heard steps outside. I opened the door, and I almost fainted. Jesus was standing in front of me.

I thought I was imagining it, but He held me. “Mother,” he said. “I am here. I am Risen!!!”

“Son, you are here!!! You are Risen indeed!!! I touched His face and His hands, which still had the holes from the nails. I couldn’t stop hugging Him. He was alive. He had resurrected.

I took Him inside and we sat down in the kitchen.

“Jesus,” I told Him. “You are alive. The past two days have been the most painful of my life. I never expected to see You again on this earth. I could not understand why You had to endure such horrific death, why You had to endure so much pain. Why?”

“Mother,” He said. “This was my mission all alone. I had to die in order to save humanity. I carried all their sins to the cross with me. By my blood, they have been redeemed.”

My heart felt like it was going to burst from all the joy and gratitude that I was carrying inside. My Son was alive. All the pain of the crucifixion was now erased in the ecstasy of the Resurrection.

He stayed with me for about an hour. Then, He said that He had to return to the tomb because the women were looking for Him.

“I’ll go with You,” I told Him.

We almost ran back to the tomb. When we got there, I saw Martha, Mary, Salome, Mary of Clopas, Sarah, and a few other women that were always following Jesus talking to two angels. The stone was rolled away from the tomb, and they looked perplexed. 

Jesus approached them, and I stayed behind. At first, they did not recognize Him. But then, Jesus said: “Mary,” and their faces were transformed when they realized it was Him. They all felt down at His feet, and I heard Mary call out to Him: “Teacher, You are alive. You are Risen.”

Then Sarah saw me, and she screamed: “Mother, He is alive. He is Risen!!!”

I ran to them, and we all hugged. 

While we were hugging, Peter and John arrived. They could not believe their eyes. Why were we hugging and laughing and dancing? Then Jesus turned around, and they recognized Him.

Peter ran to Him: “Master,” and he felt at His feet. “I don’t deserve to be your disciple. I denied You.”

“I know, Peter, the body is weak. But I forgive You,” said Jesus. “You will have the mission to build my new church.”

He then turned to John and He hugged him. John was crying like a little boy.

We all went back together to John’s house. Pretty soon, the news that Jesus had resurrected spread throughout Jerusalem like wildfire. People came over to John’s house to see for themselves. Some of His disciples stopped by. Some had left Jerusalem and were not able to hear the Good News until days later. Judas Iscariot, his betrayer, hung himself out of grief for what he had done. Jesus had forgiven him, but he could not forgive himself.

At night, Jesus said that He had to go but that He would return. He told us that the days ahead would be difficult because we would be persecuted. But to be strong, that He would eventually send us His Holy Spirit to guide us, strengthen us and comfort us. “My Spirit will remain with you until the end of times when I will return again,” said Jesus.

I stayed in Jerusalem for a couple of months after the Resurrection. Jesus came to visit me almost daily. Just as He predicted, we were persecuted. The chief priests made sure to spread the word that “His disciples came by night and stole Him away while we were asleep.” (1) But just as He promised, He sent His Holy Spirit and this empowered His disciples to spread the Good News to all four corners of the world.

I eventually moved with John to Ephesus, from where I am finishing this journal, “so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His name.” (2) My Son Jesus is not dead. HE IS RISEN!!! Yes, He is Risen indeed.

Reflection:

Mary has appeared in Lourdes, Fatima and many other places to bring us hope and to guide us to her Son. What do these appearances say about Mary’s love for humanity and her role as “Mother of the Church”?

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

References:

1. Matthew 28:13
2. John 20:31

Resources from the following books are being used on this journey:

1. The Mystical City of God: A Popular Abridgement of the Divine History and Live of the Virgin Mother of God by Venerable Mary of Agreda

2. The World’s First Love: Mary, Mother of God by Fulton J. Sheen

3. Las Palabras Calladas: Diario de Maria de Nazaret by Pedro Miguel Lamet

4. My Soul Magnifies the Lord: A Scriptural Journey with Mary by Jeanne Kun

All Bible references are from the New American Standard Bible (NASB) unless otherwise specified.

A Lenten Journey with Mary: From Bethlehem to Jerusalem-Day 39

“And on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.” Luke 23:56

Last night, I must have fallen asleep on the courtyard from cheer exhaustion. John found me, and he took me inside the house. I don’t know how long I slept, until voices woke me up.

I came out of the room, and found Peter and John in the kitchen talking. When Peter saw me, he came running and he hugged me. Then, he began to cry. He was inconsolable. He kept telling me, “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve to be His disciple. I’m sorry.” I couldn’t understand why he was saying that. What did he do? Finally, after he calmed down, he told me that he denied Jesus three times. He said that during the last supper, Jesus had told him: “Truly I say to you that this very night, before a rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” (1) And just like Jesus had predicted, in the courtyard, three times he had been asked if he was one of Jesus’ disciples, and three times he denied it and answered “no.” I now understood why Peter had left the courtyard in such a hurry after I heard a rooster crowing. I told him that Jesus and I forgave him.

I sat down with them in the kitchen. They could not understand why this had happened. They kept telling me: “If He is the Son of God, why would God allow Him to die?” Honestly, I could not answer them because I kept asking myself the same question. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for Him to come down from the cross? Wouldn’t that have taught everyone a lesson? Then, they would have had no choice but to believe that He truly was the Son of God.

After Peter left, I went back to my room. I needed to be alone. But that was not going to be possible. A lot of people came to visit me today. Shortly after Peter left, Mary, Martha and Lazarus showed up. It was the Sabbath. All of us should be at the Temple. But nobody cared about the Temple and its customs anymore. They sat with me for about an hour. We didn’t have much to say. We were all in shock. Lazarus kept saying: “If he brought me back from the dead, why couldn’t He save himself?”

While they were still there, my family arrived. Mary and Clopas got there first with all four of their sons, their wives and children. Mary kept hugging me, and asking me to forgive her for all the years that she had treated me badly because she didn’t believe that Jesus was the Messiah. Shortly after, Salome, Samuel, their daughters and son-in-law arrived. Salome sat by my side and she held my hand. It seemed like another lifetime ago when she had discovered that I was expecting a Baby from her brother Joseph.

Joseph, dear Joseph. How I wish I could have him by my side, and yet, at the same time, I am so glad that he is not here because he doesn’t have to endure this pain.

Sarah and Luke were the next ones to arrive. “Mother,” cried Sarah when she saw me. She came running to me and she hugged me. She loved Jesus as if He was her own brother. She cried and cried and cried. “Mother, I don’t understand. He performed so many miracles. He cured so many. If He had wanted to, He would not have had to die. Why couldn’t He save Himself?”

“I don’t know, Sarah,” I told her. “All I know, is that this is all part of God’s plan. We may not understand it now, but we have to trust Him.”

Last but not least, John’s parents showed up. I had met them in Capernaum when Jesus started his ministry. Of course, they were in Jerusalem for the Passover. John’s mother sat with me, and she held my hand. She didn’t say much, but this gesture somehow brought me comfort. Only another mother could understand what I was going through.

“How can I live without Him?” I asked her. She just hugged me.

After everyone left, and it was John and me, he said: “Mother, I know that I could never take Jesus’ place. But I want you to know, that I will take care of you as if I was your own son.”

I hugged John. He had always been my favorite of all the twelve disciples. There was an innocence about him. It’s as if he had never grown up and that childhood sweetness had stayed with him forever. He was good inside and out.

I told him to go to sleep, that it had been a long day, and I knew he had hardly slept the previous night.

I stayed by myself a bit longer. I said my prayers, and I asked God for understanding. In the silence of the Sabbath, I wait in faith and hope.

Reflection:

John’s loving care for Mary is a model for us to follow on how to serve others. How do I support those who are suffering a serious loss or grieving the death of a loved one? I thank God for all those who were by my side in times of difficulty or sorrow in my own life.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

References:

1. Matthew 26:34

Resources from the following books are being used on this journey:

1. The Mystical City of God: A Popular Abridgement of the Divine History and Live of the Virgin Mother of God by Venerable Mary of Agreda

2. The World’s First Love: Mary, Mother of God by Fulton J. Sheen

3. Las Palabras Calladas: Diario de Maria de Nazaret by Pedro Miguel Lamet

4. My Soul Magnifies the Lord: A Scriptural Journey with Mary by Jeanne Kun

All Bible references are from the New American Standard Bible (NASB) unless otherwise specified.

A Lenten Journey with Mary: From Bethlehem to Jerusalem-Day 38

“When Jesus then saw His mother, and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to His mother, ‘Woman, behold, your son!’ Then He said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother!’ From that hour the disciple took her into his own household.” John 19:26-27

I feel like my heart is going to break into a million pieces. It simply cannot contain all the pain and sorrow that I feel right now. When Simeon predicted that a sword would pierce my soul, I never imagined that it would tear it apart.

I am sitting in the courtyard of John’s house. Even though I have not slept in over forty hours, I cannot fall asleep. It’s simply too painful. I keep asking myself, “Why? Why did it have to end this way? What was the point of all this?”

But I guess it’s best if I start at the beginning.

After I finally went into the tent past midnight on the day of Passover, I had barely fallen asleep when I was woken up by loud screams. “Mary! Mary!” I heard someone calling me from outside the tent.

When I walked out, I found Martha, Mary, Lazarus and John. They had come running to tell me that Jesus had been arrested. I felt my legs give way. Sarah and Luke who had also woke up with the screams had to grab me. Soon, a lot of people were coming out of their tents to find out why all the commotion.

“Where have they taken Him?” I asked.

“We don’t know but we think that they took Him to the high priest,” said John. “We are on our way to the temple, but we wanted to let you know.”

“I will go with you,” I said.

“I’m going too,” said Sarah, Salome and Mary of Clopas in unison. Salome’s husband stayed behind but Clopas and Luke came with us too.

We practically ran all the way to the Temple. We were carrying torches to light the way, but it was rocky and slippery, and I almost felt twice. Luckily, John and Luke were by my side and they held me.

When we arrived to the courtyard of the high priest, the gatekeeper stopped us. “We are looking for Jesus of Nazareth,” said John. 

“There is no one here by that name,” answered the gatekeeper.

We could see through the gate that there were people inside, and we recognized Peter amongst them. John called out to him: “Peter!” 

Peter came over and told the gatekeeper that we were with him, and the gatekeeper allowed us to go in. Peter told us that they had taken Jesus inside, and they were questioning Him. 

“The slaves and the officers were standing (in the courtyard), having made a charcoal fire, for it was cold and they were warming themselves.” (1) We approached the fire to keep ourselves warm, and while we waited, John and Peter recounted what had transpired. They told me that after the Passover meal, they had gone to the Garden of Gethsemane. While they were there, Judas Iscariot had come with the officers of the chief priests and they had arrested Jesus.

“Judas Iscariot? His disciple?” I asked.

“Yes,” answered Peter. “He has betrayed Jesus.”

My heart cried for Judas and I asked the Lord to forgive him. 

We waited for what seemed hours. I saw that Peter was talking to some of the slaves and maids that were in the courtyard. Then I heard a rooster crow, and I saw Peter run away from the courtyard without saying a word to anyone. I was going to mention it to John, but then we saw Jesus being taken out. His hands were bounded with ropes behind His back. He looked at me when He passed us, almost like saying “I’m sorry” with His eyes.

We followed them to the Praetorium, where Pilate was. “Pilate went out to them and said, ‘What accusation do you bring against this Man?’ They answered and said to him, ‘If this Man were not an evildoer, we would not have delivered Him to you.’ So Pilate said to them, ‘Take Him yourselves, and judge Him according to your law.’ The Jews said to him, ‘We are not permitted to put anyone to death.’” (2)

My heart stopped when I heard these words. Put Him to death? What are they talking about? What has my Son done that would deserve a death sentence? I grabbed my sister Mary who was next to me. She hugged me tight.

Pilate went back inside the Praetorium, and he took a long time to come out. We figured that He was questioning Jesus. While we waited, more and more people began to arrive. News had traveled near and far that Jesus had been arrested. It was already morning, so a large crowd had gathered in front of the Praetorium. After what seemed like an eternity, Pilate came out again, and he said to the crowd: “‘I find no guilt in Him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover; do you wish then that I release for you the King of the Jews?’ So they cried out again, saying, ‘Not this Man, but Barabbas.’ Now Barabbas was a robber.” (3)

I could not believe my ears. The same people that had welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem with palm branches just five days ago, now wanted Barabbas, a criminal, to be released instead of Jesus who was an innocent man? What was happening, dear God?

Pilate then took Jesus away. I could not see what they were doing to Him, but I could feel every blow in my soul. I walked over to a wall, and I leaned myself against it. I could hear the scourging on the other side of the wall. My Son was being scourged simply for speaking the truth. I could not bear the pain. Salome and Sarah came over, and they held me. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and I cried with profound pain.

Then “Pilate came out again and said to them, ‘Behold, I am bringing Him out to you so that you may know that I find no guilt in Him.’ Jesus then came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, ‘Behold, the Man!’ So when the chief priests and the officers saw Him, they cried out saying, ‘Crucify, crucify!’ Pilate said to them, ‘Take Him yourselves and crucify Him, for I find no guilt in Him.’ The Jews answered him, ‘We have a law, and by that law He ought to die because He made Himself out to be the Son of God’.” (4)

“No, Father, no,” I pleaded. “They can’t crucify Him. Please, Lord, don’t allow our Son to be crucified.”

Pilate took Jesus back inside, and they stayed inside for about fifteen minutes. Then they came out once again, and Pilate “said to the Jews, ‘Behold, your King!’ So they cried out, ‘Away with Him, away with Him, crucify Him!’ Pilate said to them, ‘Shall I crucify your King?’ The chief priests answered, ‘We have no king but Caesar.’” (5)

I almost fainted, but Mary and Martha that were with me grabbed me. They both began to cry. And soon, we were all crying. My Son, my Son, He was being taken to the slaughter like a lamb. Pain courses through my soul, just like Simeon predicted all those years ago when Jesus was just a newborn Baby. 

They made Jesus carry His own cross. We followed Him up the hill to Golgotha, where they would crucify Him. I wanted to get near Him, but there was such a big crowd following Him, screaming at Him, insulting Him, that I could not get near Him.

Then John grabbed me, and he took me through a side road. We ran together, trying to get ahead of Jesus. When we reached the top of the hill, before it curved, we ran back to the main road, where we knew Jesus had to pass. We could see Him coming in the distance. He could hardly carry the cross. It was too heavy for Him, and His body was already broken from the scourging. “Oh flesh of my flesh, what have they done to You?” I cried out.

He must have heard me, because He looked up and He saw me. And then, He lost His balance, and He felt. I ran to Him, but the guards stopped me. Someone cried out, “Look, it’s His Mother.” The guard must have felt sorry for me, because He allowed me to get closer to Jesus. He was on the floor, but He lifted His face, and He looked at me. “Mother,” He said. “I wish I could take this pain away from You.” I wanted to kiss Him, but another guard grabbed me, and pushed me out of the way. John held me so I would not fall.

Then, I saw the guards talking amongst themselves, and they grabbed a man from the crowd. He was “a man of Cyrene named Simon, whom they pressed into service to bear His cross.” (6) I said a silent prayer of thanks to this stranger for helping my Son carry His cross.

When we reached Golgotha, they crucified Him. I could only look on in anguish, feeling every nail in every fiber of my body. I wanted to run to Him, to wipe the sweat and blood from His face. I don’t know how I held on. I’m not sure who was holding me. At one point, someone asked me if I wanted to leave. But I knew that I had to be there, at the foot of the cross with my Son. I was being crucified with Him. 

At one point, Jesus spoke. I have no idea from where my Son found the strength to be able to say a word. His body was sagging against the cross. But He looked at me, and He looked at John, His only disciple who was there with me at the foot of the cross. “He said to (me), ‘Woman, behold, your son!’ Then He said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother!’” (7)

At that moment, I realized what my Son was doing. By entrusting John to me, He was giving me a new maternal role. He was gifting me, His Mother, to the whole world. He created for me a new family. As He gave His life for the love of humanity, He entrusted all of humanity to me. Oh, but with what painful labor I bore these sons and daughters.

A few minutes later, Jesus “said, ‘It is finished!’ And He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.” (8) And I felt my spirit fly away with Him. At that moment, I collapsed.

I don’t remember much after that. I know that they brought Jesus’ body down from the cross, and they laid Him on top of a stone. I sat down, and began to clean His body, with the help of all the other women that were there present. “Nicodemus also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes. (We) took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. Therefore because of the Jewish day of preparation, since the tomb was nearby, (we) laid Jesus there.” (9)

Somehow they brought me to John’s house. I don’t even remember how I got here. I feel like I am living a nightmare, and I’m hoping that I will wake up soon and it will all be over. But there is a love that is stronger than death, and that is the love of the Father. He is sustaining me.

Reflection:

In what ways is Mary a spiritual mother to me? Have I made a place for Mary in my life like John did? How has my relationship with Mary changed and deepened throughout my life?

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.

References:

1. John 18:18
2. John 18:29-31
3. John 18:38-40
4. John 19:4-7
5. John 19:14-15
6. Matthew 27:32
7. John 19:26-27
8. John 19:30
9. John 19:39-42

Resources from the following books are being used on this journey:

1. The Mystical City of God: A Popular Abridgement of the Divine History and Live of the Virgin Mother of God by Venerable Mary of

Agreda

2. The World’s First Love: Mary, Mother of God by Fulton J. Sheen

3. Las Palabras Calladas: Diario de Maria de Nazaret by Pedro Miguel Lamet

4. My Soul Magnifies the Lord: A Scriptural Journey with Mary by Jeanne Kun

All Bible references are from the New American Standard Bible (NASB) unless otherwise specified.