The Wonders of Childhood

The immediate days following Jesus birth are somewhat of a blur to me.  Joseph went into Bethlehem and registered for the census, as required.  However, following that act he worried for days because God placed concern upon his heart.  There were so many people that knew about my son’s birth and even though I have kept quiet, fearing for the babe’s safety, people still gossip.  We fear word will reach Herod.  Joseph said that God has warned him in a dream that we must take a different route home where we will gather a few meager possessions and flee to Egypt , remaining there until God instructs us further.

 

It was good that we took heed to Joseph’s concerns as we’ve since learned that one of the Magi that had stopped at the manger the night of Jesus birth had told a story of seeing a babe born in the cold of night in Bethlehem while in route to Israel and about how all manner of people came to worship him that night.  It so happened that at the same event where the Magi was telling the story, purely for entertainment purposes, one of the King’s wise men---a scholar of the old testament—reminded the King that Micah predicted that a savior---a “King of all Kings” would be born in Bethlehem.  Herod panicked. Fearful that Jesus would grow up and overthrow him on the throne.  So he ordered all of the male children of toddler age and younger killed in Bethlehem.

 

Oh…how I grieve for those mothers.  When I heard of this I wept.  I went to the temple and prayed for those broken hearts.  As while I felt great relief that my son was safe, I knew that these other children had suffered—along with the families that loved them.

 

We remained in Egypt until Herod’s death.  Even then we are not truly safe, but we are tired and missing our kinsmen.  Joseph and I finally decide to return to the district of Galilee, to our home in Nazareth.

 

By now Jesus is a promiscuous toddler and into everything.  He is very curious in nature and learns quickly.  I am fortunate that I was taught how to read in order to study the scripture.  My father was educated, though that was not the norm for our time and place.  He received great joy in reading to us as children.  I am passing this passion onto my son, Jesus.  We spend many evenings by the hearth with scripture in one hand and my precious son upon my lap.

 

Jesus loves the story of Noah’s flood most of all.  He has such compassion for all living things, right down to the wooly caterpillars.  Few of my people have been awarded the gift of literacy.  Again, I believe God had his divination involved, knowing the Son of God would eventually make use of this skill.

When we arrive in Galilee we are welcomed by our family as we have been gone a long time.  Joseph’s  sons have grown so much we barely recognize them.  They have taken good care of our property and the family business of building and tent making continued in our absence under the guidance of my father.

 

My brothers and sisters have prepared everything for our return.  A great party in our honor is held for all our kinsmen with food of every variation, pomegranates, cheese, lentils, fresh baked unleavened breads dipped in olive oil and spices, fish---and even roasted lamb covered in a bitter herb sauce—which is a rare treat.  The wine flowed from large barrels.  It was a joyous occasion that I will not forget.

 

I had trouble keeping track of Jesus in the throng of relatives.  He fears no one and his curiosity sometimes gets the better of him.  Jesus, John of Zachariah (Elizabeth’s son), and Lazarus, another youth close in their age, all played together, hiding under furniture----climbing on people’s shoulders during the dancing---it was a wonderful time for Jesus.  He was able to meet his kinsmen and he developed the beginnings of a profound friendship with his two companions that would grow with him into his adulthood.

It is a constant challenge to be the mother of Jesus of Nazareth.

When he was twelve years old we went to Jerusalem to participate in the feast of the Passover.  The entire family traveled together, including all of the children, our parents, our cousins---it was quite a caravan.  Jesus couldn’t sleep for a week before we went each year.  He loved every holiday, but this was his favorite.  He took advantage of the opportunity to scout out the city. I eventually gave up trying to control him.  His intellect was so strong that keeping him in check was next to impossible.  

He had to collect every creature we came across that would fit in his girdle.  When washing his tunic it was common to find frogs, baby birds, or even mice.  I was surprised at nothing.  And amazingly, they all seemed to thrive in the palm of his hand even if when he found them they were injured.  I recognized he had the gift of healing, but held this close to my breast as God had instructed me.  I taught Jesus to be humble and quiet about his skills---they were a special secret between him and I.  He loved that we had special things that were known only between us—mother and son and his Lord on high.

 

On this Passover, we enjoyed the festivities with our kinsfolk.  Jesus, John of Zachariah and Lazarus were a threesome that would be seen on occasion running in circles and giggling from whatever game they were playing at the time.  When the feast was ended, we packed up our belongings and headed back to Galilee which was a full day’s journey.  We reached our home and were settling in, putting away our possessions when I realized I had not seen Jesus since we left Jerusalem.  I had assumed he was walking behind the caravan as was his custom.  However, he was nowhere to be found.

I was in a panic.  I ran screaming to Joseph!

“Have you seen Jesus?”

“No.”  Joseph replied, turning to me with an alarmed expression that matched my own.  Now I am even more afraid.  “I thought he was with Elizabeth and Zechariah!”……Joseph reached for my mantle on the hook that I had just placed there upon our return and handed it to me….”We must go back for him.”  I was exhausted, but feared for his safety—so we headed back to Jerusalem.

It took us three days to find him.  Three long--terrifying days.  I was so angry with him!  Yet, I’d give anything just to see him alive.

I had given up all hope.  We had checked the area where we had set up camp.  We checked the marketplace and the stables---no one had seen him.

On the third day I walked to the temple to pray.  I was so afraid. I was responsible for God’s child.  He has given him to me to watch and care over---and I had lost him.  How could I even face God now?  Although ashamed, I had nowhere else to turn but to God.

There….among a circle of elders, teachers, and wise men sat my son.  He was listening intently, occasionally asking questions.  When they explained a biblical verse he would expound on it and provide an allegory—a poem or parable that made the meaning even more clear for many of the men in the circle around him.  They were amazed by the depth of his understanding considering he was but a child.  I listened for a bit and my pride in him doused the anger and anxiety that had been poisoning my heart for the past three days.

Walking over to him I leaned down and touched him on the shoulder, “Son, why have you treated your father and me so?  Behold we have been looking for your anxiously.”

And he said to me, “How hard did you look for me?  Wouldn’t you have automatically known I would be in my Father’s house?”

The men sitting around him did not understand the question that he put to me and thought he was being disrespectful ……

But I did understand…..

I understood it well…….