I was thinking the other day about the miraculous love of Mary. How she sacrificed her most beloved, for love of the world. For love of the people in it. For love of you and me. For love of her friends.
I wonder if she struggled with resentment.
Resentment of you and I, and resentment of her closest friends most of all. She loved him more than any other, much more than her best bosom buddy. How unequal to the sacrifice those friends must have seemed, and yet she watched her son's death for them. Watched him leave though her heart begged him back.
There is no greater love than that.
Lord make me worthy of such love. And help me be capable of releasing the resentment of my own crosses.
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