The Rosary

For the past two days I have laid in bed, suffering from a flare-up of my fibromyalgia. Today, while listening to EWTN on the internet, the rosary came on and I decided to say it with Mother Angelica and her nuns. Today's mysteries are the sorrowful ones. As I laid there reciting the Hail Marys and thinking about the first mystery, I found myself in the picture.

The first mystery is the agony in the garden. As Jesus lay there on the rock, I found myself walking up behind Him and I began to stroke his head. I had done this several times when He turned to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I pulled Him to His feet and held Him, telling Him I would do what I could for Him.

The second mystery come up, which is the scourging at the pillar. As He was being scourged, I walked up and wrapped my body around his, holding him and comforting Him as they lashed and struck me. I could feel my body being bruised and flesh being torn open.

Then the third mystery came up, the crowning with thorns. I took the crown of thorns for Him. I felt the thorns, hundreds of them by the way it felt, press into my head. Blood began to flow down my face, stinging my eyes but, in a way, refreshing my parched lips, as any liquid would. It flowed down my back along with sweat into the open wounds, burning and stinging as it flowed into and out of the open flesh.

The fourth mystery started, the carrying of the cross. I took the cross from my Lord, and began to carry it for Him. I could barely lift it due to my weakness, physically and spiritually. But I managed to get it up. I could feel the rough wood rubbing the open flesh on my back. Splinters driving into my shoulders which were bruised and torn. Every bump in the road exaggerated as the shock traveled up the beam and into my body.

The fifth mystery started, the crucifixion. I started towards the cross that I had just laid down, but was stopped. Jesus pit out his hand to push me back, because only He could finish this task. I knew that this would be the outcome from the start, but I didn't want to see this happened. Mainly because I knew that what He had to endure on the cross was because of what I had done in my life. Being unable to take Him place at this point, I went over to His mother, Mary, and dropped down at her feet and wept deeply for causing her son to go through this.

The rosary ended, and I don't know why it happened like this. I had never even thought of placing myself into the mysteries as a way of reflecting on them, nor do I know how acceptable this is. I don't know if I will do this again, since I hadn't planned to do it this time. But hopefully this is just the next step in my journey towards being more like Jesus.