my fevered flesh with water drawn from an icy cold stream. I begin shivering uncontrollably. “Son, hand me some clean linens. There, Mary, rest now.” She lays me back down, but I cannot focus on her face. Yeshua covers me, his hayye a bit softer now.
“Ima, I do not know how it came to this. I feel like I am living another person’s life.” His voice hoarse, has he been crying?
“You are living a very human life, Yeshua. Thanks to Mary and Teoma, you are going through a dark time of the soul. You will survive this, but it won’t be the last.” Yeshua shudders, or is it the chattering of my teeth? “What happened the night before Teoma left?” I thought she knew.
“I found her lying with him. I had already asked him to leave after coming across them in an intimate embrace by the fountain earlier.” So matter of fact, almost without emotion.
“And what did Mary have to say for herself?” Miriam asks softly, somehow I feel she knows the truth, but maybe I am just being hopeful.
“After she hugged him, she said we were at the beginning of a very dark journey.”
“Wise for one so young. It has been very dark indeed.” I am not wise, only quoting Gavriel. “And did Teoma explain?”
“He said they talked but that he did not touch her.”
“And you did not believe him?” Yeshua must have shaken his head. “Has he ever been dishonest with you?” Again, no. “Then why did you not confirm his story by hearing Mary’s side?”
“She never offered an explanation.” He sounds close to tears, “Ima we are not living as man and wife anymore. There is little love between us now.”
“Yeshua, it is love that held her tongue.” She pauses, I imagine, to reach out to him, “Now twice since you have been married, you have withdrawn yourself emotionally from her. Both times have ended in her becoming extremely ill. You have had to nearly lose her before you have surrendered to your higher Self.”
“Do all dark times of the soul have to last so long,” he cries, “and be so painful?”
“No, they will continue to be demanding but in a different way. You must surrender sooner and remember that you are not alone.” Again a pause, “You believe your mission is to serve the world but in order to help others, you must first serve yourself.”
I do not remember any more but his soft crying, probably muffled on her bosom.
Eve of first Shabbat of Shevat, 3774
Day and night, I fast and pray always at her bedside. I have not seen our daughter since her mother fell ill. Within my being, a storm brews the fog of incomprehension beginning to lift. Somehow suffering has opened my heart to a deeper level of compassion. Thanks to Mary, I have known all the faces of fear—anger, frustration, rage, sorrow, guilt, jealousy, and unworthiness. I am truly willing now to surrender my beloved to divine orchestration. If I am blessed to see her smiling face, her pallor colored back to the beautiful bronze of her vitality, to see her stormy eyes clear to brilliant green, I shall know that I have not been forsaken. I will welcome my brother home with open arms and not allow my fear to come between us again. To remain connected to Eloha throughout this darkness is the greatest miracle of all.
The late morning sun streams through our open door to kiss my cheek. For the first time in days, I awake clear-headed but struggle to take a deep breath. My breasts have been bound. Where is Sarah? I attempt to rise but am too weak.
The Archangel Gavriel returns, as always a comfort. Why was I forsaken all through this dark time? You were never alone but accompanied by the Archangel Uriel, the morning star. I vaguely remember a presence like a shadow, always at my left side. Aware that most fear this dark deliverer, I thank him. Gavriel laughs, you have earth angels here in the house. Of course!
Silently, I call and soon Yeshua’s siblings arrive. A sack over his shoulder, ten-year-old Shimon places it carefully on the bed and out crawls my baby. Sarah tries to stand but not finding proper footing rushes to me in a fast crawl. Tearful that I missed my baby’s first steps, I gather her into my arms. She reaches for my breasts, finding them bound begins to wail.
“Shimon, can you cut these knots.”
He complies and Ruth helps unbind me. “Poor Mary, your breasts are squished. Will there be any milk for Sarah?”
“Let’s pray there is, sweet child,” sighing as Sarah happily relieves the pressure. Eight-year-old Judah watches the door, the girls gathering closer. “How did you accomplish this?”
“Well,” Shimon begins, “this morning when Sarah began screaming for you, the nurse got a terrible headache, so I made tea.” He smiles mischievously. “An angel showed me in a dream which of Abba’s herbs to use and soon she was snoring.” He motions for Judah to join us and my young guardian reluctantly leaves his post. All together, playing games like before the dark time began; I have finally awakened from a very bad dream.
Shortly, Yeshua appears. “What’s this?” Sarah hears his voice and pulls away from me.
Brandishing a wooden sword, Judah bravely answers, “We are Mary’s earth angels, so you better beware.”
Yeshua puts up his hands, “I surrender to your demands. May I visit with my wife now?” Recognizing their brother of old, the little girls jump upon him. After a few moments, the children kiss us goodbye and dance out of the room. We are alone.
Offering silent gratitude at the sight of his silvery aura clear of fear, I open my arms. Yeshua hugs me to him, our tears merging to dampen Sarah’s sweet head. The dark time finally over, all is forgiven.
After kissing my lips with loving compassion, Yeshua whispers, “Mary, can you use your connection and call Teoma back home?”
Gladly, I do his bidding.
First Shabbat of Shevat, 3774
Desperate, I paced the olive grove until a voice in the ethers interrupted my lamentatins. “Why do you wail, Son?” Ambrose! Of course, I am transparent to my Druid teacher. “My, my! It appears you have lost your way, my prince. Are there not three very wise men happy to help if you but ask?” I bemoaned how lost I had become, then with conscious breath, invited the hayye of my beloved mentors.
Zsao asked one question of me: what is fear? And before my eyes, fear existed as darkness where light could not penetrate. Just as darkness is the absence of light, fear is the absence of love.
Then Reiti’s query prevailed: how does the healer heal the sick? Waves of energy coursed through me, as I perceived my wife’s illness as a reflection of my fear. To heal her, I must heal myself. The darkness of my fear lifted and the light of love shone into my heart.
Belshazzar’s deep-throated laughter preceded his question: how is this journey of love
