I look up and see a loving son, who honored "His Father's will be done".
You did so the day you were born from a blessed virgin mother's womb, going forth knowing the scorn, the scourge, and prick of the first thorn would be followed by the cross and tomb.
I can only imagine your thoughts as a boy while playing in what should be pure joy of the moment always knowing the torment that you would one day have to face and then say, "Father, unto thy hands I commend my spirit."
The faith in me knows it had to be. Yet, the father in me feels the heartbreaking strain of a son enduring so much pain before his last breath and earthly death.
Then I smile with thankful tears for your brief glorious human years, as I think of you rising from the dead after three days lying on the cold stone bed.
My Lord, Jesus Christ... I look up and see a loving son, who honored "His Father's will be done".