Our WiFi has been out this week and I feel as though I’ve stepped back into the early two-thousands. You don’t realize how much you need something until it’s no longer there and I’ll tell you, we’ve come to the day and age where connectivity is a necessity, not so much a luxury.
In any case, I am a day behind, forgive me. I’m writing this quickly, because it’s eating into my phone data, which is powering my hotspot. Ah, the sacrifices we make. I’ve combined the entries for the two dates, where Mary learns what is to become of her.
You can go here to read previous entries. Follow my blog so you can get notification of new postings (see sidebar). Or the book is available for purchase if you prefer not to wait. Note: there are Hebrew words sprinkled through it. You can find a listing of them and their definitions here. The next post will be April 13.
With quiet resignation, Mary folds her other dress and carefully packs it into her personal basket, while her abba gathers provisions for the trip and her imma selects gifts for her aunt. The once mirthful Oprah and Kyra sit quietly by the door, playing with their dolls, the joy that filled the house earlier gone with Mary’s announcement a week prior.
Mary sighs and sits back down on her bed. Her eyes sting with each tear she sheds. She doesn’t want to go to Hebron, but the fact that her parents won’t let her see Joseph hurts more. They don’t trust her. And worse than that, she is just supposed to obey. She is to go to her doda’s house, have her child, come back as though nothing happened and let her “pious aunt” raise the babe.
Heli enters the room. Mary wipes the tears from her face.
“Are you ready?” he asks. His voice is low and there are bags under his eyes, as if he has not been sleeping.
“Don’t make me go, abba,” she begs.
Heli sits beside her and maintains eye contact with her.
“You understand why we’re doing this, don’t you?”
“But I did nothing wrong,” she insists.
He looks down but doesn’t say anything. A single tear runs down his face as he takes her hands in his.
“Mary, please tell me,” he beg, straining to keep his voice steady. “Tell me… is Joseph the father?”
She slowly pulls her hands out of his, reminded how neither he, nor her mother, believed her.
“Mary…,” her abba begins, but there is nothing else to say. Heli rises from the bed and murmurs, “Let’s go.”
Resigned to her fate, Mary follows.
The night air is chilly but better than the day’s heat, Joseph decides. Sitting on the roof of his home, he stretches out and turns his gaze to the stars above him. It’s a moonless night and the stars offer their own light, twinkling brightly against the dark backdrop. Joseph sighs, enjoying the moment and the way it reminds him of Mary—her beautiful, round face; her intense, black eyes; her flowing, long hair…
Joseph takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He wasn’t ready to bring Mary home as his wife, so he couldn’t be entertaining impure thoughts.
He takes another deep breath and turns his mind back to the moment. No, to his work: another table with chairs for the miller. His family was growing, fast; and two of his sons were already following in their father’s work. Joseph smiles; one day he and Mary would have a son who would become a carpenter like just like him…
And his thoughts are back to Mary: she seemed distracted last time he saw her. Maybe she was ill, or tired; she did help her mother carry the weight of the household. He would have to check on her.
Joseph beams at the thought.