Her Son's suffering was over, and now she waited, waited quietly.

She remembered another Passover time when He was boy of twelve, that time He had disappeared;
that time when she and Joseph had sought Him, sorrowing, for three days.

Had that time, she wondered, been a preparation for, a foreshadowing of, this?

Yes, she had grieved, she had wept, when she watched Him dying on the Cross.
Even though she had known that His death would not be the final outcome, she
had wept, wept for what He was suffering, wept as only a Mother can weep for
her Child.

But now, no longer grieving, she waited.

And then... a Light in the room. A Voice, the Voice she loved most of all.