Since Monday, my meditations on the mysteries of the rosary have taken on a new light. I suppose this is natural, since I have experienced this before through other events of my life. As my perspective on things changes, so does my understanding of the events of the lives of Jesus and Mary. This is part of why the rosary is such a beautiful prayer.
I find myself suddenly with new perspective on what it must have been like for Jesus while he waited and prayed in the Garden of Gethsemene.
Jesus knew what was coming. He knew the soldiers would come for him, and he knew he would suffer great physical and emotional pain, though at that time he was only experiencing the agony of anticipation.
He knew he would be leaving his disciples to fend for themselves and had to trust that the principals he had instilled in them would bear fruit. He also knew they would stumble along the way.
He prayed that this cup might pass him by. Yet, even in his distress, he remembered "Thy will be done, not mine."
He watched as his friends repeatedly fell asleep, though he asked them to wait and pray with him.
Like Jesus, I know what is coming. I know that the soldiers are coming for me, though I can only physically sense the barest hint of their presence right now. I know that there will be great physical and emotional anguish ahead for me and for my family and friends, yet right now I see only the graces that this situation is bringing as my community surrounds me with strength.
Like Jesus, I know that I may be leaving my children, hopefully not physically anytime soon, but to a degree, while I turn to face my battle. I must trust that God, with the assistance of my family and friends, will guide them through the worst parts of this when I am unable to, and that the seeds we have planted in them will bear great fruit in this time of trial.
Like Jesus, I fervently pray that this cup might pass me by. But always, His will be done.
However, unlike Jesus, my friends and family have not fallen asleep. You are all very much here with me in the garden and wait, wide awake, to face this by my side. Because of this, I will never truly understand the depth of Jesus' suffering. Thank you.
We always teach our children to pray, "Please let me be like Jesus." Well, now I have the chance.