you.” Gratefully, Teoma nods. Yeshua smiles and kisses his cheeks, before turning to the horse. “What have you here?”
“A gift.” He swallows thickly.
“Mary will be most pleased. I shall send her out.”
Teoma busies himself grooming the horse, thinking he should have stopped and shaved. The horse nickers a greeting.
“Teoma!” Sable curls streaming behind, Mary jumps into his arms. He winces in pain. “What is it?”
“Nothing, I am so happy to be home.” Holding her away, he smiles. “Baking more graven images are you?” She touches his rough cheek. “How is my Sarah? I hope she still recognizes me.”
“Come into the kitchen and see for yourself. She could never forget you!” She pauses, a bit teary. “It just took so long for you to come home.”
“I am sorry. I returned as soon as I could.” With one finger he tips her chin up. “Do not cry, Mary, everything worked out as the angel predicted. It was as if we were players in a drama. You and I played our parts beautifully, don’t you think?” She nods. “Now, I have something for you.”
Tearfully, she whispers, “You did not have to bring me a gift.”
“Please, you must accept it. I cannot return him.” He gestures to the stallion pawing the ground.
Mary trembles with excitement. “Where did you get such a magnificent animal?” She kisses his cheek in gratitude and he gently pushes her toward the horse.
“Go on, Mary, he has been waiting for you.”
Slowly she approaches, reaching out to the restless stallion. His ears flick forward, nostrils flare, stretching a graceful neck to touch her hand, then snuffles her body before settling his forehead against hers. Her dark hands lie in delicate contrast with his white coat. A light glows about the two in such intimate contact.
“Mary, it is as if you are one being.”
Both turn toward him. “Teoma, but I have always known him. His name is…,” she pauses as if listening to the animal, “…Sheikan.”
“Thank you, Sheikan, for coming back to Galilee with me.”
“He says you are welcome and to thank you…” her face reflects concern, “for fighting so elegantly for him?”
Before she can pose any further questions, Teoma rushes up the hill to retrieve Yeshua and Sarah, very grateful to be home.
Alone in Nazareth
The gilded hand mirror Miriam gave me on my seventeenth birthday reflects a face transformed. Lifting the hair from my neck, Yeshua melts me with a kiss. “Love has made your eyes ever more brilliant.” He studies our reflections and then slowly turns me to face him. “I look into your beloved face and see the Divine.” As he strokes my back, a wave of trepidation flows through me. “It is time for me to journey to Britannia.”
What! Britannia is so very far away! Gavriel alights to envelop me. Dear angel, will you stay when he has gone away or am I to suffer this abandonment of my beloved alone?
“You will not be alone,” They answer with one voice. “We are deeply connected, so with our hearts bound to one another, we can share intimacies over great distances and many months.”
Months? My head spins. I cannot fathom being apart.
“Before we embodied in this life, we were as one. We can meet on that plane of existence whenever we like.” Although I know he speaks the truth, my body aches from anticipation of unmet need, Gavriel’s presence keeping me from sheer panic. “Shh, Beloved, during this separation we will come to discover an aspect of ourselves that we have forgotten.”
A distant, buried memory begins to stir. A time without space, in a place without time. A sense of oneness with Yeshua who is not Yeshua, as I am not Mary, but we just are. Love so intense, so sweet, so without expectation—I have never been without him. Yet to exist within this body without the joy of physical connection…Already I miss him.
“My love, we can imagine one another when we sleep and meet in our dreams.” Smiling, he adds, “Perhaps this will bring you comfort while I am gone.”
From the oak trunk, he retrieves a codex, bound in soft leather, the parchment pages covered in a fine print with drawings here and there. “A record of my thoughts since I returned from my last trip to Britannia through this morning, when I wrote how difficult it will be to leave you and Sarah.” Burying his head in my lap, his tears dampen my robe as mine drip upon his hair.
***
Mary…, Mary…
My husband calls early. Yawning, I arise to greet him in the ethers. Yeshua, I was dreaming of you. We were in a forest, very dark and misty. You led me to a mossy clearing to lie upon a stone altar. Our union represented a coming together of two forces, air and water. Just as the heavens came to bear witness…you woke me.
I can feel him groan with disappointment. There is such a place here but I wish I had not interrupted you. Have a wonderful birthday celebration, Beloved. The elestial stone glows from our contact.
We have met like this every morning since he left eight months ago. Using the path of light, we unite in spirit. Yet my body still yearns for his touch. With a sigh, I pick up the codex, caressing the crisp parchment as if through the ink, I can feel my beloved’s hands.
Elul, 3772
Since receiving revelation about the birth of our first child, Mary has fretted over the amount of time I have needed to prepare for the conception in the wilderness. I spend my days perfecting the art of creating and maintaining a mobile kasa, for Abba believes that the world outside our home is unsafe. Through many years of study, I have learned raza—to make that which is material disappear. What appears material in this world is of a certain vibration like the deepest lowest tones of the lyre, while that of the spirit world is of a higher, lighter vibration like the silent sound only creatures perceive.
To veil oneself from the world, one must raise his energy higher, lighter, faster than that of the reality in which he exists and to the world he has disappeared, but still he sees and hears all about him. The same vibration as the healing white light which provides protection and invisibility to those within its sphere, kasa exists around our land, a technique Abba and I learned from the mystics in Britannia. Walking between the worlds of reality, Mary eloquently describes raza as dancing faster than the world, and to reappear, one must slow her dance to match that of the earth.
While Abba is in Tyre helping my uncles manage the ships, Ima comes with Martha and Micah to celebrate my birthday. Pregnant with her second son, my sister seems content, but Ima has an air of concern.
“Mary, you are too thin.” A few strands of gray salt her dark hair. “You spend too much time out of
