they know not what they do

On a day when sacrifice was made with His very life... to save mine...without the people even knowing, understanding...He selflessly drew in His last breath, to the sound of people spewing hate while His body dripped blood. They drew their assumptions, dipped with vile ignorance and self-importance, onto His pitted and bruised body.  

His best friends long gone - hiding in the dark shadows of fear, leaving Him exposed for all. But He, who hangs there with arms wide open, crucified by those who sang praises to Him but days earlier - He still whispers forgiveness in  syllables, words - Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing...

In the midst of suffering, there is always grace. Even in death.