Previously…

It had grown dark almost too early in a way. Simon had been crying; some remorse, perhaps, but mostly self-pity over his own loss. As he lit the lamp on the table a tall figure stood at the door; bathed from behind by moonlight. Efraim ben Abram stood holding a frail twisted figure. He had been crying.

“Simon? SIMON. Don’t you understand? Adara is dead!”

A Morning of Miracles

Efraim stepped into the dimly lit room, and only then did Simon notice the two women standing behind him; such was difference between their slightness and Efraim’s girth. He turned and nodded at the two.

“These are my friends, Simon.” He spoke softly, noticing that Simon seemed to be in shock. The women walked over to the table and began clearing it. One took the lamp and placed it on the hearth; the low light cast an odd shadow on the opposite wall as both figures gained an immensity beside Simon’s own shadow.

“Place her here, Efraim.” One of the women spoke with authority even as her face indicated that she wept along with the girl’s brother, as the Teacher had encouraged. The second woman nodded and stepped next to the table even as the big man laid the lifeless body down. Simon looked at the girl’s face; her expression seemingly frozen between death and eternity. She had been crying and her look was not one of fear but of sadness. Simon put the back of his hand to his mouth, biting it to stifle a sob. The first woman half-smiled even as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Do not fear, Simon. She is only asleep.” She took a deep breath. The Teacher had told her and the other followers that they would do ‘greater’ things, and she hoped that his words alone would give her the faith to believe. A look of anxious dread crossed her face; the fear that she would somehow be unworthy or incapable or inadequate mirrored the lack she still clung to in her heart. Her companion stepped close and rubbed her arm.

“You can do this….” She looked over at the girl’s body and back.

“…Because it is the One who created her who will perform the miracle.” She squeezed the woman’s arm and kissed her cheek lightly. The woman turned to her and nodded.

“What? What miracle?” Simon looked at the two and back at Efraim. His expression indicated that he had no idea what was about to take place, but a moment later he smiled, indicating a confidence that literally strengthened Simon. What Simon needed most wasn’t a building up, but a breaking down. He stared at his sister and wept; finally reaching that point of surrender; not for his own sake, but for the sake of his sister, and perhaps many others as well.

“Oh Lord….show your mercy and your fierce love to this man? Please restore his sister to him?” The woman did not close her eyes, but instead looked upward with a believing smile. It might have been almost presumptuous but for the calm gleam in the woman’s eyes; a look that indeed said ‘I cannot, but I know someone who can.’ She breathed out a relieved sigh; the kind one might give out after finishing a test without knowing the outcome.

“I don’t understand,” Simon said. His arrogance was gone, and his question wasn’t one of insistence but instead a desire to understand just what the will of his creator would be. That the creator had intended all along for this moment in time had not yet occurred to any in the room except for the tall, almost quiet Efraim. He didn’t know how or when, but he had trusted that something good would indeed take place that very night.

A moment later his faith was rewarded as the girl stirred slightly, opening her eyes. She looked up into her brother’s face and beheld a tearful smile. Gone was the anger and pride. No longer a man among men, but a child in the presence of the miraculous.

“A...Adara?” He spoke her name for the first time without reluctance. Acceptance came not from being in good stead with his Teacher. Love came not from a place of reluctance, but from a heart that truly rejoiced that he had a sister, and that she was indeed alive. He fell upon her and wept tears of repentance; all the while crying softly and speaking over and over,

“I have a sister…” She felt gentle hands lift her head as one of the women placed a blanket underneath to serve as a pillow. She gazed up, seeing their faces from upside down, but still knew that the eyes that gazed back were loving and caring. For only the second time….actually for the third time, she felt the love that everyone longs to know. She began to cry; softly and with a joy almost never present before as one of the women leaned forward and bestowed a blessing via a kiss to her forehead.

“Be at peace, child. Our creator is not through with you yet.” She backed away, clutching the hand of the other woman.

“Only you, dearest, could be the vessel of deliverance for this family. Only you,” she whispered, squeezing the hand that held hers tightly; a nervous habit borne out of fear but now a gesture of trust.

“Because I am just like her? I am a servant like you, my dear girl.” Andrea put her head down; humility mixed with a small, lingering bit of shame as other old habits held on tenaciously as well.

“Because you know how she feels, my sweet. And never forget.” She grinned wryly and shrugged her shoulders almost playfully before adding at last,

“We may only be servants, but we are His servants….” She paused and her whisper almost became a giggle.

“And I’m yours!” Andrea said softly in reply; the smile on her face indicated a tenuous peace borne of acceptance and what some believers might have considered almost false testimony since she presented herself as she saw herself.

Born Andreas on the island of Cyprus to Alexandros and Irene; Roman citizens who died in the child’s youth. But reborn in a manner of speaking; not only in the spirit, as some might say, but reborn in the very core of his…her being, much like the child who lay safely before them. Something that would bind the two together in both understanding and spirit as well.

The following day…

Benyamin sat at the table with his head cradled in his arms; despondent would have been inadequate to describe his heartbreak. His mother came in, holding a basket with vegetables from their garden; a bright smile lit up her face even as she seemed to have been crying.

“Did you hear? One of the followers of the Rabbi … a woman….Hah!” Mara laughed and Benny looked at her sideways; after the time he endured the afternoon before, he was in no mood to play silly games.

“Your Adara, bless her, Benny….a miracle. She was ….” Mara paused, wondering just how she could tell her son. She took a deep breath.

“They say she was trampled by a Roman’s horse!” Benny’s face started to twist into a mask of grief. Mara stepped closer and grabbed his face with both of her hands.

“No…my dear sweet son. She is alive. Followers of the Rabbi…. It is a miracle. Perhaps you might seek them out.” She eyed his twisted foot and smiled; always accepting and understanding, she nevertheless sought and pled and petitioned through prayer for her son. His eyes cast downward and he frowned.

“Never for me, Mother. She needed me and I walked away. My shame was not only in what Simon said, but in my cowardice. I left her in a time of need because my feelings were hurt. I don’t deserve a miracle, Mother. Perhaps I never did!”

He stood up and kissed her on the cheek; a gesture almost in passing as he fled quickly out the door and down the hill. Mara stood at the doorway. Any other might have wept sadly, but she was like no other, and walked calmly back to sit where Benny had been only moments before. She looked upward before cradling her head on her arms as she prayed with confidence that her son would indeed see the miraculous in his life.

Many weeks later…

Benny had avoided even walking past Simon’s home; fearing the inevitable confrontation he would face with his own feelings of incapable fear set against the power of the almighty. But an errand added to a very muddy alternate path forced him to venture near the very place he sought so desperately to avoid.

“Benyamin?” Simon’s voice came from the open doorway as Benny tried to hurry past the home. In a moment he was being hugged by his friend.

“I have worried about you. I should have come to your home sooner.” Simon shook his head and bowed it in shame.

“Forgive me, Benny. I was wrong about so many things. I have been such a fool, but the light of the creator has dawned again in my eyes, and I see what is right and just. I am so sorry I treated you so shamefully. And you my best friend.” Simon fell to his knees and hugged Benny’s legs; weeping hopeful tears. Benny shook his head in wonder before helping Simon to his feet before embracing him.

“Of course.” Benny certainly did the right thing, but he remained angry with Simon. It was almost a magnanimous gesture on his part, since he had been hurt by his friend. Forgiving for forgiveness sake might be helpful, but being bitter because of being justified helps no one; something Benny would only see in the clarity of time and distance.

“I’m glad you happened by, Benny. You can say goodbye.” Simon wiped his tears from his face with his sleeve.

“Where are you going?” Benny seemed relieved; perhaps Simon’s departure would leave things safer. Perhaps things were going to get better. They already had gotten better, but dramatically different than for what Benny had hoped.

“No, my friend. I am not going anywhere. You’re just in time to say goodbye to Adara.” He smiled proudly at the mention of his sister’s name; likely the first time anyone in recent memory could recall, but now a frequent part of his daily routine.

“What? Adara is leaving?”

“Yes. She is going to travel to Antioch with Efraim and the two women who follow the Teacher. They have been called…” Simon’s voice trailed off. To what Adara was called was still somewhat foreign to Simon, but in changing his attitude, he had come to trust her judgment. It mattered little that he did not understand; she understood and for him that would be enough, since in changing his heart, Simon had retrieved a faith he held as a little boy long ago. Adara was going to be safe and in the very hand of the creator.

“No…that can’t be.” Benny shook his head. He felt a soft hand touch his shoulder; a gentle reminder of what could have been.

“It is, my sweet Benyamin.” Benny turned to face Adara, and beheld for the first time a woman brimming with confidence and assurance. There was for the first time not a single syllable of hesitant fear as she looked completely at peace. She stood a bit on tiptoe and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“I am so glad to know you are alright. I feared for you.” This from the woman who only weeks before despaired to the point of near death. Her thoughts now were only for others; not because she felt unworthy for her own sake since she didn’t, but because she felt for the first time a purpose in life that went beyond her fears and sadness. She felt alive and that her life mattered and that it mattered for something much bigger than herself.

Benny stared at the woman; she seemed almost a stranger. He wondered what the miracle had performed in other ways. There had been no change in that regard; why would remain a mystery to anyone who might care, but Adara still knew in her heart of hearts that she had never been Mahlon the weakling boy; no matter what form she held. She was a woman, plain and simple; a woman with a purpose and a call. She looked up and smiled at Benny before kissing him once again.

“I love you, Benyamin. I always have and I always will. I pray that the creator will reveal his purpose for your life even as he has revealed mine.” She squeezed his hand and nodded to Simon.

“I’m sorry, Benny, but I’ve got to go,” Adara said even as two women and a very large man rode up to Simon’s house on a cart drawn by a very content-looking donkey. She waved at Simon and he waved back, fighting off the tears without much success.

“I love you!” She said to her brother as Efraim stepped off and helped her into the cart.

“Be at peace, Benny,” she said finally before the four were carried off down the hill. Benny followed the course of their cart until it disappeared slowly around a bend obscured by some trees. He turned and looked at Simon. His friend’s face turned quickly from pride to concern as Benny frowned.

“What will I do now, Simon?” Benny cried. Simon put his hand on Benny’s shoulder and half-smiled.

“Just what you were created to do. And maybe I can be of support as you discover just what that is old friend, alright?” He patted Benny on the back, which seemed to be of little help as his friend collapsed in his arms, sobbing at last.

“What am I going to do…I love her…”

Simon patted Benny on the back softly.

“I know, dear friend. I know.”

This story will continue in Adara’s Call

A reading of To Theristea will be helpful to provide the context of this story and Adara’s call.

http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/26306/theristea