If I’d’ve been one of those gals at the cross with Baby Boy Beloved John I’d’ve been ticked! 

I’m talking so mad you can’t say anything except, “I’m too mad to talk to you right now so you best get outta my face” mad. 

That Mama kind of mad that I doubt Daddies can fully understand, the kind of mad that you’d kill for your kid and lose sight of everything in the periphery kind of mad. The kind of mad that can only come from believing one set of circumstances and expectations only for those to be shot to heck-n-back and the reality is almost unbelievable except there you are smack dab in the middle of them. 

Some of y’all have no idea what that’s like, for that I am grateful.  I do know that kind of mad and I can tell you some days even decades later I still ain’t all the way finished getting mad over some things. It’ll just hit me and all the sudden I’m ready to slash tires or walk on coals or some other nonsense in order to make sense of those unexpected, blinding circumstances and experiences. 

I know that mad and I get why those gals got up so early that Sunday morning, just as the sun was coming over the horizon, chill in the air, ragged from crying for three days. I get why they made their way to that tomb to finish the burial job the men had started before Passover. 

Their beloved Boy was gone. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. How was this the magnificent plan?

I imagine on the way they rehearsed what they would say to the posted guards and if I’d’ve been there I can guarantee you I’d’ve been a little bit ghetto and prolly said something along the lines of, “ I dare those sons-a-bananas to forbid me…” any number of made up angry imaginary arguments. All’s I know is I’d’ve been wagging my tongue and still tryna make sense of what had taken place on that cross outside the hill. I’d’ve been angry that I’d’ve had to observe Passover despite my hurt of losing my Boy.

I said that out loud as I drove home with Shelton and Charlotte last night. I said out loud the part about being so angry. They both looked around trying to discern who actually had ticked me off. I explained and their answers to me  fit their Bethany 3 personalities perfectly. 

Charlotte  said, “Mama it had to be done, it was an act of love.” She’s a Mary.

She is right of course I know that, but did they? Did those gals know? 

Shel said, “That’s a stage of grief. Anger. You’d just be grieving over death.” He is a Lazarus. 

But that Sunday morning those stages of grief would’ve come to a screeching halt for on that Sunday morning the King conquered death by death!

He is no longer dead, He is alive and ain’t no need to be angry anymore.