Yes, I felt the time with my Savior–“Jesus, I was with you tonight, the nails in my neck, my shoulders in the weight of the sagging flesh, hanging on my tortured flesh, through my forehead a ten penny nail. Yes Jesus, I have chronic pain. I have put it this way to friends, ‘Either I would that You heal me, or I will become an example unto Your Glory.’ So, I live each day, waiting fore the wall of white pain to hit my eyes, my chest, my back, and I have learned to say nothing. Tonight with the play, that fulfillment of emotion for Your blame and betrayal–washing Your followers feet, their petty squabbles, this painting with four groups of three, ah the painter’s portrait with You looking straight at me as though I am the false one, oh Jesus what would I do for you, as tears well, then do not fall, not enough of those hot tears to make a difference because Jesus, I have learned pain tolerance and to withhold the burning coals in my face, and my dear Savior now they come because I am ashamed, I am ashamed as I too might argue my innocence, then I feel again the nail through my forehead! Yes Jesus will make me an example of Love, His Divine Love; yes divine love, His Love, his love. So, which is it divine love, or Divine Love as I feel the tingle of pain precursor–oh will I be an example of Love with the arthritis of my spine flaring slowly, for His Glory I go on, H is preview of chronic pain, oh I can do it for Him, the Pain Tolerance with pain I have endured for is it five, six years? One looses count of the years because pain levels sometimes soar out of control, the ten penny nail through my neck, my face, my head, out the back, into my soft bone, flesh, muscle, the silent invisible blood oozing out the back of my head; then I think of Him this afternoon with body, the entire body sagging on those nails where He cannot breath, one labored cup of air escaping lungs invisible but this pain far surpassing my pain as His Body fights for each breath, as the blood trickles out of hands and feet, as ribs show through His chest and His torso, as He cannot breathe, His invisible Blood, finally the entrance into whisper of, “Father, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” The Pain coming like torrent like the pain I felt this evening; but was it? Was my pain anything like the torture He felt wit no breath, one blood soaked breath finally coming out like a trickle of air, and out of his dry, parched mouth, crusts of vinegar and saliva in His speech, “It is finished.” I feel a few tears in my eyes, just a few, not the empty gut, full nose, my bent septum preventing my air, I am hollow and indifferent with my teeth clinched. I end my lackluster words, waiting for only promises, the middle way, swayed not to the right of left, I am alone in my indifference and I listen to amazing Love sound through me head, He is dead until my realization, until I can push aside my own body and see Him.