we make something waterproof, yet lightweight?” Miriam pondered.
“A clay jar won’t leak, but it also won’t float. A basket will float for a short time, but eventually becomes waterlogged and sinks,” her mother thought aloud.
“We need the pitch that drains from wood when it is burnt. Tree sap drips out into a basin under the fire as the wood turns into charcoal. Egypt does not have many trees, so where can we find wood to burn. Where do the workers get the pitch that lines the baskets we use to carry water?” Miriam asked. “Father and Aaron will try to get some from the work site.”
Miriam and her mother worked on the problem of building a waterproof basket for many weeks. Miriam gathered the toughest papyrus stalks from the riverbanks, and her mother expertly wove a basket. Their hearts grew heavier with every passing day, as the danger to the baby boy grew greater.
“Have we made the basket skillfully enough that it will not leak?” Miriam wondered. She took it to the river filled with clothes to wash. It floated like a boat when she tested it.
“Do we dare hope that the princess will have pity for a Hebrew baby and rescue him?” The family anguished over the question.
It was summer when Jochebed hugged her baby boy, knowing it was the last time. The most she dared to hope is that he would live, somewhere, somehow. If only he would be permitted to grow up in the company of others. Would another mother raise him, perhaps love him? Miriam kissed her baby brother before they wrapped him snugly and placed him in the little ark. Her mother was shaking with violent sobs when Miriam left the house, yet no sound could be heard. Her father and Aaron had left their last kisses that morning. They absolutely could not be missed at the work site.
Miriam then gently carried him to the river, pretending as though the basket contained clothes to wash. She checked to be sure there were no crocodile tracks in the sand and set the basket afloat near the beach where Pharaoh’s daughter usually bathed. She shuddered deeply and gave the basket a determined push. The little ark lightly drifted away in the current.
Miriam thought her pounding heart would fail. She remembered what her mother said, “Only trust in God that he will protect the baby and will give you strength to carry him to the river.”
Tall reeds rattled in the hot breeze blowing off the mighty Nile River. Keeping herself hidden, she crouched at the shore and peered over the sparkling water. Little frogs and an abundance of crickets scampered around her feet, and she was startled when a giant crane lifted gracefully into the sky. This beach was off-limits to her, for she was within sight of the white columns of the summer palace complex of Pharaoh. She had heard about amazing monuments just beyond the western horizon. There was a sphinx that looked like a crouching lion with a human face, and there were pyramids made entirely of huge stone blocks that took many humans to move. They were the tallest structures to be seen anywhere where people lived, so she had heard, and they were actually tombs of past kings. These structures were already ancient when her ancestor, Joseph, and his brothers came here to escape famine. About four hundred years ago, the Hebrews were honored guests, actually invited by the pharaoh, to seek refuge from a famine that was devastating their country. Now it had come to the tragedy she was personally facing. “Dear God of our ancestors, what happened to your promises to Abraham?” she prayed to herself.
Miriam nervously parted the reeds to improve her view when, as expected in the midmorning, several young women approached the riverbank. They chattered with carefree ease as they loosened their sandals. Cool mud squeezed between her toes when Miriam shifted to remain out of sight. Some of the maids threw stones in the water to see if any crocodiles would rise to the surface. Then they gathered up their gauzy, white gowns and waded in to be certain the water was clear of the reptiles. If the waters were safe, then the princess herself could start to bathe. Miriam’s eyes were riveted on the fragile-looking basket that was gently bobbing in the waves.
“Will they see it? Then what will they do?” Miriam whispered under her breath. She watched a regal young Egyptian woman approach the water, obviously the princess. The princess casually shook off her fine sandals and threw them into a heap with the others. Running toward the water, she tucked her white linen gown into her belt to free her legs and hands for movement. Miriam noticed that the young attendants were not much older than she herself was, yet they seemed to come from a different world. Their legs were creamy white and unmarred by the scratches and bruises that Miriam acquired in the hard work of her daily existence. The tallest woman, the princess, was always the center of attention. The maids swam around her adoringly and made her laugh with their antics in the water. Could this princess be aware of the cruel suffering that occurred in the shadows of her luxurious life?
Miriam and the Hebrew girls also swam in the Nile waters but on a different beach, where the sand was not so fine. Still, in another time and place, Miriam felt these young women could have been her friends. Abruptly, the playful movement stopped as one in the group spied the basket bobbing in the waves. They raised their hands to shield their eyes against the glaring sunlight for a better view.
Miriam’s family had anticipated this moment for weeks. They had prepared and prayed; no other idea occurred to them except to take this chance to assure survival of their baby. The life of her baby brother was now in the hands of this young princess. Would she take pity and save this precious small life? Miriam froze and silently prayed, “Please God, please . . .”
Miriam Speaks, God Saves
Miriam moved closer to the shore of the Nile, protectively watching over the ark. Silence fell over the water when the princess and her maids all looked curiously over at the basket.
“Wade over toward the reeds and bring me that quaint little basket,” the princess asked one of her servants. “Do I hear a baby cry?”
An attendant waded quickly over to retrieve the basket before it drifted farther away. Miriam clasped her hands together in front of her face and hardly dared to look while the maids gathered around the princess. She carefully lifted the lid off the basket. The group of women gasped with surprise.
“Look, it is a boy baby; surely one of the Hebrews’ children,” she exclaimed as she lifted him out. “He is crying! Even though my father has demanded that all Hebrew baby boys should be killed, this is a beautiful child whom I want to keep and raise as my own.”
Miriam’s heart pounded with joy at hearing those words. God had indeed been merciful! Then she impulsively did something that was not a part of the plan. Without thinking, she stepped into the water and approached the princess. She had to make the move immediately. After all, the baby was crying, what else was she supposed to do?
Miriam bravely approached the princess. “Shall I go and choose a nurse for you from among the Hebrew women, that she may care for the baby?” Miriam asked. “Yes, go and do that,” said the Egyptian princess.
It was that simple! If ever the hand of the great God of Abraham was visible, it was now!
Miriam shook uncontrollably as she ran back to the house. “Of course mother won’t believe this news immediately. I will have to drag her back to the river, and quickly, before the princess changes her mind,” Miriam thought aloud.
“Mother, Mother, dry your eyes,” Miriam sobbed with joy. She tried to stay as calm as she could. “Come with me immediately, but don’t let the princess know that the baby is yours.”
They hastened to the river where the princess and her attendants stood in a circle around the baby, cooing with admiration and suggesting names.
“Here
