Christian Author Laura Davis

1

Jerusalem 44 A.D.

      She had been sitting outside on her beloved bench for over an hour meditating, 

 praying and remembering. The sun had risen and now wrapped her in a warm cocoon that threatened to lull her back to sleep. Mary arched her back and stretched. Yawning, she ran her hands over the pillow that covered the precious bench Joseph had surprised her with, the first year they were married. They had often sat there together in the early morning hours when the rest of the world was still asleep and the sun was just waking up.

      How she longed for those times again, when Joseph would take her hand and they would begin the day in prayer and dedication to Yahweh. Dear Joseph, how I miss him! If only I could feel his arms around me again, and hear his voice once more.

     She had known Joseph almost her entire life. In a village as small as Nazareth, it would have been unusual if their paths had never crossed. Older than her by 12 years, Joseph had watched Mary grow from a child into a beautiful young woman. He had skillfully placed himself in her life with the purpose of marrying her when she became of age.

      He had called her ‘Little Mary’ and she had called him her ‘Gentle Giant’, names said with an affection that had grown into a deep and lasting love.

   “You’re such a long way up, Joseph!” she would laugh. “I get a sore neck just looking at you, much less kissing you!”

     Then one day he had come into the house and said, “Little Mary, I have a surprise for you, but first, you must close your eyes!” Mary had obeyed and as soon as she had closed her eyes, Joseph had picked her up in his muscular arms and placed her gently down on something that felt surprisingly soft on her feet. 

     “Open your eyes now,” Joseph said, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

     “Oh, Joseph!” For the first time in their marriage, she was able to look straight into his eyes.

     “What is this?” She had looked down at her bare feet to discover she stood on a beautiful oak bench with a silk, cream-colored pillow lying across it.

     “I was thinking we could use it so you wouldn’t get a sore neck kissing me.” He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her close. “Or you could use it to sit on.” He shrugged and smiled. “Your choice.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think for now I shall use it for kissing you and later I will use it to sit on.”

Mary sighed; a sleepy smile lingered on her face. They had dubbed it the kissing bench. They had thought it was something their children would laugh and giggle over in the years to come. What a wonderful life we made together!

It was a good marriage, despite its uncertain beginnings. So many events had happened in those early days of her marriage that Mary could not imagine which memory she cherished most – the angelic visitation, the birth of Jesus or his resurrection. The enormity of what had transpired in her life had humbled her more than she realized. 

Of course, she would never cherish the memories of what they had done to her first-born son. Forgiving them was easier than forgetting. She could never forget. How long had it been since that horrible day? She could still smell the blood; still hear Jesus’ screams mingled with her own. Her chest grew tight with grief as she closed her eyes to dispel the images that had haunted her for the last eleven years.

     She was fifty-eight years old and until six months ago had been with her nephew, the Apostle John, on a brief visit to Rome to strengthen the churches there. When the Emperor Claudius began expelling Jews from Rome, John had decided that she should return to his home in Jerusalem for her own safety.

      “Poor John,” she muttered as she recalled the argument she had had with him over returning.

     “It’s too dangerous for you in Rome now, woman!” He had pleaded with her all day and finally in anger and frustration had gathered up her belongings and started stuffing them into a satchel.

“As the mother of our Lord and a Jew, your life is in more danger than mine right now! This discussion is over! You will leave without any more arguments!”

     Mary remembered folding her arms across her chest and swallowing the angry words that had threatened to spill from her lips. No one had ever talked to her in such a manner!

      “John, if it is so dangerous then why are you staying? Should I, the mother of the Messiah, become a coward and run to save my life when others are dying? It is not right! Your brother James was beheaded for proclaiming Jesus as the Messiah. I should do no less.”

“Jesus charged me with your safety, Aunt Mary! Would you have me dishonour my Lord by shirking my responsibilities?” 

That was when she had seen the pain and anguish on his weathered face. She had finally understood. He could not bear losing her as he had his brother and so she submitted to his wishes.

He took her to Jerusalem, stayed for a while to help her adjust and then returned to Rome to minister to the churches there. She now spent her days with the other believers in Jerusalem, meeting together regularly for prayer and fellowship. Today she was expecting Luke, a Greek physician led to salvation through the Apostle Paul.

As she waited for his arrival, she kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes. Although it had rained the night before, it was now a beautiful spring day. Mary loved the earthy smell in the air after a rainfall; it was a combination of mud, water and worms that oddly reminded her of the seaside. Breathing in deeply, she leaned her head against the rough stone of John’s home, stretched out her bare feet and plopped them in the nearest puddle.

From the time she was a child, she had often gone barefoot through the hills of Galilee after it had rained, for she loved to squish her toes in the mud and feel the cool blades of grass on her feet. She recalled that Joseph had always tried to get her to keep her sandals on because he had feared that she might cut her feet on the sharp rocks or sting them on the nettles hidden throughout the hillside.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Oh Joseph, my darling, missing you gets harder with each passing year.

“He is risen!”

Startled, Mary shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up to see a handsome young man staring down at her. 

“He is risen indeed! You must be Luke! John has told me so much about you. Come to check up on me have you?” She smiled as she took a bowl of olives that sat beside her and put it on her lap.

Luke chuckled, his dimples showing off his chiselled features. “Actually, I just wanted the chance to meet my Lord’s mother - but don’t tell John. He thinks I’m here to inquire after your health.”

She laughed, her brown almond-shaped eyes sparkling. “You don’t fool me - either of you. John sends so many different people to check on my welfare that it’s a wonder I can remember all their names.”

She patted the bench inviting Luke to sit. Taking some olives from the bowl, Mary proceeded to pit them with lightning speed. Luke watched in fascination at how quickly her slender fingers worked.

“May I help?” He asked suddenly.

Raising her eyebrows, Mary stared at Luke for a moment, then nodded and placed the bowl between them. “Jesus used to like pitting olives too. He said he found it calming.” She giggled, “Unfortunately, he ate more than he pitted.”

Luke laughed heartily as he popped an olive into his mouth. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Jesus,” she said, shaking her finger at him. “If you eat more than you pit, then you’ve just had your supper.”

“Well then, I’d best stop eating them, as I’m used to eating more than olives at my meals.”

“Get to work then and I might feed you more than olives!”  She teased.

Content in an affable silence, they settled into their work. Luke immediately felt welcome, as if he had known Mary his whole life and he told her so. Mary blushed and thanked him.

“Oh, my goodness!” she stood suddenly and ran into the house.

Luke, perplexed at her sudden disappearance, continued pitting olives. He was about to follow her into the house when she returned with a basin of water to wash the dust off his feet. She knelt on the ground and removed his sandals. Embarrassed that the mother of the Lord was washing his feet, Luke swallowed his discomfort and allowed her to minister to him, remembering the lesson Jesus had taught his disciples the last night they were together.

When she had finished, she proceeded to wash her own feet and then put her sandals back on, which led her to tell him about Joseph and his fear of her running barefoot.

“He was such a wonderful man,” she reminisced. “He was a man who feared the Almighty, a good man - especially when I found myself with child.” She poured the dirty water from the basin onto the ground and then sat beside him. “You cannot begin to imagine what it was like during those days! I was fourteen years old, betrothed to a man much older than I and with child – but not with his child.”

She grew still and gazed off into the distance. Luke watched her quietly, revelling in the fact that he was actually with the woman who had given birth to the Savior of the world. He wondered how she had handled that night. Where was she when the labour had begun? Who had delivered the baby? Were there any complications? Luke had so many questions to ask her and hardly knew where to begin.

Mary’s eyelids dropped as she let her mind wander back to the night of Jesus’ birth. She had been surprised at the pain; in fact, she had never realized it would hurt so badly. Afterwards, oh afterwards the reward of her son was so great that she had thought her heart would split wide open with love. The King of the world had been born to her!

“Happy thoughts?”

Mary’s eyes flew open. Blushing she smiled and said, “His birth - it amazes me still.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what was it like back then? When you found out you were … uh … with child?” Luke asked timidly, hoping that his being a doctor would make her a little more comfortable talking about such things.

“It’s been over forty-four years since Jesus’ birth.” She shrugged. “Aside from my immediate family, I’ve never really talked to anyone about it before.” Mary sighed and pitted more olives as she contemplated how much she should tell the young doctor.