The light of the nightstand lamp bathed her little face in a golden, day’s end glow. She had picked out a library book and brought it to bed with her, asking that I read the page with a picture of Jesus on the cross.
Before I even looked at the text to see how appropriate it was for a five year old, she looked at me with big eyes, waving her little hand close to my face and pleaded, “Grandma, I don’t want nails in my hands!”
|Christ on the Cross - Rembrandt|
On this Thursday before Easter Sunday, Maundy Thursday, the day we remember Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, the praying in the garden, the arrest, the trial, beating, and on Friday morning, the via dolorosa . . . isn’t that exclamation from the sincere heart of my granddaughter what all of us want to speak in reverent tones? “Lord, I don’t want nails in my hands!”