Eyes of Compassion

Reflections from a mother

… Grief. Anguish. I had no more tears. My body ached with exhaustion. I felt like I was in a catatonic, pain-filled walk. My soul was being squeezed as if it had no life.

My son had died. My only son. My only son.

My husband was dead. My son was now dead. I wanted to die.

I trudged behind the pallbearers to the edge of town to the burial ground. Every step was agony. I was angry. I was lost. I was in pain.

Then everything stopped. The mourners stopped crying out. I bumped into the last pallbearer. I lifted my head. And there, right in front of me, were the kindest eyes. Eyes of compassion. Eyes of love. Eyes that gave me a glimmer of hope.

All of a sudden, I had this realization. It must be the man they called Jesus that I had heard about. And seen from a distance.

It seemed like the whole universe stopped. Jesus reached out so slowly and touched my son, my only son. The overwhelming greyness came alive, and all of a sudden, my son was in my arms.

I don’t remember anything more . . . except those eyes of Jesus. And my son’s arms around me.

I knew love.

Respond in Prayer

Jesus, I want to know your love. I want to feel your arms around me. Forgive me for my unbelief. I am amazed that you love me even when I am lost and weighed down with overwhelming grief. Thank you for loving me. Amen.

Wayne Johnson

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version® (NIV®).