The agony in the garden

“And his sweat was like drops of blood…”

Jesus’ difficult time in Gethsemane has always been an intriguing image/theme/story to me. Before he is betrayed by his closest friends, before he is stripped of his dignity, before he is beaten and killed, Jesus struggles through various emotions. He feels anxiety, panic, abandonment, grief, insecurity. But he also feels strength, resolve, peace. He faces his biggest fears with all the love in his being.

I will never forget this Holy Week. I know I am melodramatic, that the writer in me is given to hyperbole. I know that in my weakened emotional state, I am irrational, desperate, even slightly mad at times. But I know these days will remain with me as lessons.

Last night, I came close to calling 911. Just like that terrible Tuesday a few weeks ago, I cried, screamed, sobbed, and prayed as I wandered the house looking for something to break. I wandered into the kitchen but came back to my bedroom. I tore up a letter and I scratched my own arm. And then my sister(because my sister in law is now my sister) called me. Unlike the disciples, she didn’t fall asleep. She sensed my anguish and she stayed with me. Last night, for the first time in several days, I slept the whole night.

I have made a commitment to carry my cross. And so I pray in the garden.

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