Can you imagine what I felt as I watched my son nailed to a cross? I screamed. Oh, how I screamed. That was my son. Yes, he was a robber. Yes, he was guilty. Yes, he deserved to be punished, but not that way. That was my son on that cross.

The most horrible sound of all was the sound of the crossbeam, with my son nailed on it, being dropped onto the upright beam. That sound was repeated twice. Just talking about it makes cold chills run up and down my spine.

When the crossbeam was set firmly, the executioner reached up and set the board which listed my son's name and his crime. Then the executioner knelt before the cross. Two soldiers hurried to help, and each one took hold of a leg at the calf. The ritual was to nail the right foot over the left, and this was probably the most difficult part of the work. If the feet were pulled downward, and nailed close to the foot of the cross, the prisoner always died quickly.

That was what I had prayed for, a quick death, but it was not to be. Over the years, the Romans learned to push the feet upward on the cross, so that the condemned man could lean on the nails and stretch himself upward, thus taking longer to die.

It is hard to remember what all transpired after that incident. Surely I must have blocked out of my mind all the screams, bad language, the taunts of the soldiers.

What I do remember vividly was one of the last things my son said. For some reason I can still hear it so clearly. It was as if everything had gone completely silent, that no one was saying a word.

I remember that my son moved his head toward the prisoner in the middle and spoke to Him slowly and deliberately. It had been years since I had heard him speak like that. I knew that he was being very thoughtful and sincere.

My son called the prisoner in the middle by name: "Jesus." That was such a common name. But what startled me was what else he asked: "Remember me when you come into your kingdom."

I remember thinking, "What kingdom? What in this world is my son saying? Surely he must be out of his mind with pain."

The one named "Jesus" made some kind of reply to my son but I really didn't hear what He said. I was thinking about what my son had just spoken.

My son, my precious child, died that day. What a day that was. No mother should ever have to live through such a day as that. That terrible day would truly be horrifying if things had not turned out differently than what I understood them to be on that day outside Jerusalem. Let me explain what I mean.

It must have been some six or eight months later that a man came to visit me one day. His name was Barnabas. He told me that he had been thinking about my son for many days and he wanted to find his family and talk to them. He asked about the city and learned of where I lived and he came to visit me. I have never had a visit from anyone that so turned my world upside down.

He explained to me that he was a follower of the prisoner named Jesus. He told me of many of the things this Jesus had taught. But the most remarkable thing he told about was that the man who had died next to my son was now alive again. This man, Barnabas, had seen Him and talked with Him. He knew what he was talking about.

The reason he wanted to talk with me was that he wanted me to know that I could see my son again one day. Can you imagine how my heart leaped within me when he told me of such a possibility.

He inquired about my memory concerning the conversation between my son and Jesus on the cross. I explained that I had not heard what the prisoner named Jesus had said. He told me that after my son had made his request to be remembered in the coming of Jesus' kingdom, that Jesus had said to my son: "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."

Barnabas explained to me what Jesus meant by those words. That day my precious child -- robber that he was -- was going to be with this Jesus in His kingdom. I wanted to shout. I wanted to cry. I wanted to believe that all this could be true.

I begged Barnabas to tell me more. He talked to me for several hours, explaining about this man Jesus. Finally, he asked me if I did not want to place my personal faith in Jesus as my Savior. He explained that if I did, in the life to come, I would be reunited with my son and Jesus.

I did not have to think about it long. I almost shouted "Yes." Admittedly, I now know more about that decision than I did then. Now, I am more excited about Jesus than I was then.

I now know that nothing will be able to eternally separate me from my family because my son, my entire family and I have now placed our faith in Jesus Christ.