Thanks to M. Holmes' book TWO FROM GALILEE we have another blog representing her work. I hope it does the Biblical characters justice that her book presented to the world. Our Bibles tell us of many people, what they accomplished or what happened to them. No one knows what they were really like or what they may have suffered, but Holmes' book gives us glimpses of "what might have been." Enjoy, but to know what they were really like, you will have to wait for heaven to find out!
For the best enjoyment of this story, you may want to begin with my blog,AN AMAZING STORY and follow the blogs on up the line, to be continued until around Christmas Eve.
Mary leaned against Joseph as he led her to the place where she at last could lie down. Panting, Mary said, "It may be hours before the baby comes, but you must fetch a mid-wife." "Yes," Joseph said, "I should have thought of that before and inquired at the inn." Again, he was shocked, mortified at his ineptitude. Now he would have to leave her alone.
"Don't worry, I'll be all right." she assured him and touched first his shoulder then his stricken face. "The pain has stopped altogether," she said, surprised. "Perhaps I can sleep a little." Relieved, he said, "I'll not be gone long, I promise. I'll find someone. Sleep, my Mary, sleep and rest."
He left the lamp behind and felt his way among the stalls, castigating himself for his blunder, when he suddenly heard, "Joseph!" He halted, frozen, just as he was almost to the opening where the Beduoins moved about their fire. "Joooo-seph!" Hearing this scream, too horrifying to believe, he whirled and ran. Sitting upright with her legs dangling over the stall, gnawing her fist, tears streaming down her face, she sobbed, "Joseph, don't go. Don't leave me. It's unbearable, I can't stand it, Joseph."
And so, he cradled her in his arms and crooned, "Mary, Mary," rocking her as he would a child. The convulsion ceased. "Oh, God," he thought, "If you are the God who performed this miracle, why must it hurt her so?" "My Beloved!" he spoke again, this time to his Mary. After a time, Mary whispered to him, "I'm sorry, only I got so frightened when it began again--and I was alone." She pushed back her messed up hair. "You know the ancient taboo--that it is not fitting for a man to gaze upon a woman in childbirth."
"Yes, I know," he agreed, yet troubled. "And even if it were not so, I know nothing of what to do to help you, my love." "Well," she said, "Go and fetch some hot water if you can get it. Perhaps the herdsmen...but don't be long," she begged. "Go no further, please--even to fetch a midwife." "I'll send one of the herdsmen for a midwife," he said, yet knowing another cruel pain was tearing at Mary's body as he ran for the cave's opening.
The herdsmen were sprawled about drinking wine and strumming their lutes. As he burst into their circle, he said, "Help me! Please! Have you any hot water? My wife is far along in childbirth and she needs water...and a midwife." A man said, "My friend, the water we can share with you," and he laughed, "but none of us is a midwife!" They stopped laughing as they saw Joseph's face. A man rose, tall and dignified. "There is some barley soup, nourishing and still hot. Perhaps it will comfort your wife.. Here, I'll carry it for you and light your way. Meanwhile...." He kicked one of the sleeping boys. "You, Joab, rise up and go into Bethlehem. See if you can find a midwife." The youth rose up, yawning and surly, thinking the command was a joke. But there was no time to argue, and the tall shepherd with the soup and Joseph leading, went back toward the cave which held Mary.
The cries from within the cubical halted both of them. "Thank you, my friend," Joseph said grimly, and motioned him aside. "If we need anything further we will call you." And he stole back in and stood where Mary lay writhing. He had known women suffered in childbirth, but this was his Mary
and the thing that tortured her clawed into the dark pit of his own bowels even though it was not his child she struggled to bring forth.
No man must see a woman in childbirth, that he knew. He could not leave her, yet, he was helpless at her travail. "Joseph.....oh....Joseph!" His name came from between her clenched teeth. He could barely hear her and he fell to his knees beside her, and let her grip his hands and pull upon him, pull with all of her strength.
Dazedly, in their mutual agony, it seemed to Joseph that something was being uprooted in him. Self! My very own self. The last little bit of self. And then, another thought, "Was this the meaning of love? Must one die to self in order to be reborn for your beloved? to spare her? To share it. To more than share it, to take it into my own body and bear it for her, and in the process to die...and be reborn? I wonder. I wonder."
(End of today's story)
I hope these words, both of mine and Ms. Holmes, will put some new thoughts of your own into being. I know her book put some new thoughts into mine!
Getting all your Christmas plans ready? Me, too, keeping at it!
Jo INMN
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