The Tenth Station

"Jesus stripped of His Garments" Every morning I drive 25 minutes to morning mass. This morning I was compelled to take a different route. Since I am taking all back roads, there are several combinations of roads I can take. While passing a tobacco shed on my right, I caught a glimpse of an old pick-up truck which appeared to be hiding behind the shed. I know that may seem like a strange description, but that was the picture my minds' eye saw. When I was a young girl, my mother often hid her car in or behind an old tobacco shed. I can remember her having to lift the board, open the two big doors and drive her car in. I can almost remember how it smelled and the soft interior sand floor under my feet. I can remember her taking my hand and guiding me out in only the light of the moon. I remember that there were many different places, many different sheds. I remember how we would almost run, not to be seen by anyone especially my Father. I don't tell people about those days. It all seemed so clear to me this morning. How did a child comprehend love? This man that held my hand and wiped my nose would become so enraged that he would say to my mother," I'll kill you." Word's similar to that were quite common. I can remember her fear, by the way she held my hand tight so I would walk really fast, and by her breath. As I grew I wonder if I ever knew love,? trust? I went searching in every wrong place for a love that I really had no real understanding of. In my innocence and ignorance I sinned. Now as I passed this shed I remembered my meditation on the tenth station. My soul has been robbed of its robe of innocence, clothe me dear Jesus with the garb of penance and contrition. Sometimes He allows us to go back, way back. To heal very old wounds. I look at the sacrifice He made and I unite mine with His. Maybe someday, all my wounds will be healed. For now, I will walk with Him through those stations every morning preparing myself once again, for His Sacrifice. In this I am healed.