The following year I had a marriage proposal.
Though Abner had been around for many years, he never tried to make any advances in my direction...or any other direction, for that matter. We always thought he was a confirmed bachelor and teased him about it sometimes.
Jesus was nearing his twenty-second birthday and still not married. I often wondered if He had been right when he told me He never would.
It was a beautiful afternoon. Fluffy clouds rolled rapidly across the sky. The breeze played with flower petals, wafting sweet odors around us. Abner and I sat at the table under the tree eating our mid-day meal. During the meal, I noticed Abner was unusually silent. Every once in awhile, I caught him staring at me intensely and wondered what was bothering him.
When we finished, I cleaned the table, then asked if he"d like to go for a walk.
We strolled in the quiet olive grove, talking softly of nothing. Birds twittered, then flitted to the ground, searched for food and flew to another tree.
He suddenly stopped and stood as though he were a statue. I looked up at him in surprise. He had the most intense expression I had ever seen.
“Abner, what...?”
“Mary, I have to say this fast,” he blurted. “Will you marry me?”
I was dismayed more than shocked, and I didn"t know how to handle this. I leaned against one of the gnarled tree trunks, almost unable to stand without support.
“But, Abner...” I honestly didn"t know what to say.
“I know I could never take the place of Joseph. He was such a good, kind, gentle man.” He took a deep breath, swallowed, then continued. “Mary, I have enough money to see that your family would never have to worry about finances again.” He lowered his head and moved his sandal, making marks in the sand like a young boy.
“And I have loved you almost since the day we met.” He spoke quietly, looking directly into my eyes.
I didn"t know what to say. I had never thought of Abner as a possible husband. “Abner,” I stood straight and placed my hand on his arm. That same arm that helped Joseph and me over mountains and through deserts. The same arm that held Jesus when I was so exhausted I felt I couldn"t hold Him another moment.
“Abner,” I repeated, and removed my hand. “I don"t know what to say. I"ve been alone so long, I can"t even think of getting married again.”
“I know you couldn"t love me the way you did Joseph,” he said. “I couldn"t ask you to do that, but I would be good to you.”
“Oh, Abner. I know you would.” I moved away from him. When I turned, his head was bowed. I implored.
“Please look at me.”
He raised his head and his eyes met mine.
“Abner, I can never marry anyone else. It wouldn"t be fair to you or any other man I might meet. I loved Joseph as long as I can remember and that love has never died.”
He started to say something and I shook my head. “Please let me finish. I know what a good person you are.
I"ve loved you as a friend for so many years.” I took a deep breath. I had to say this in a way that would not hurt him. “I also know it would be unfair to you for us to marry.”
“Oh, Mary.” He cried, moving away. “Can"t you see I could never ask you to forget Joseph?” His eyes held misery. “I just want to help make your life a little easier. I know it"s very difficult raising these children alone.”
He stopped, then glanced at me with the most loving look I"d ever known...even from Joseph. “I"ve wanted to ask you for a very long time.”
I said nothing as he turned and looked around the grove. His voice was so low, I strained to hear every word.
“I"ve seen you work-weary and worried about one of the children. I"ve watched you planning for Bar Mitzvahs and betrothals and weddings all alone, and I want to help.”
I walked to him and laid my hand on his arm. “Abner, I thank you for all the kind statements. You don"t know how much you have helped, coming to see us so regularly. I"ve leaned on you more than I should, probably.”
And it was my turn to move away from him. “But I simply cannot marry anyone.”
Something in my voice must have told him there was more. He said, his voice very concerned. “Does it concern Jesus?”
“Yes. I might possibly consider your proposal, but I know what"s going to happen, Abner. I just don"t know when. I"ve been studying the scriptures and David, the same David that gave us so many beautiful psalms, also told of the death of Jesus. I have to be there for Him when He needs me. I can"t expect a husband to allow a wife the freedom that I"ll need.”
I could feel the tears flowing down my face and Abner reached over and wiped them away. “I don"t know why I was chosen to be His Mother.” I was weary beyond words. “I still have a very large job to do and I"m so afraid I won"t have the courage needed.”
Abner took both my hands in his. “I"ll help in any way I can. You know that. If you should need me, wherever I am, will you write or send a message to me?”
“Yes, Abner, I will.” I leaned over and kissed his leather-like, sun-burned, loving face. “Thank you so much. I can never tell you how much you"ve meant and will always mean to me.”
Soon after, he left on another journey. He returned often and it was many years before the subject of marriage was mentioned again.
A few months later, I almost regretted turning his marriage proposal down.
Jesus came home early one day and asked if we could talk. He and I communicated better when we were in the hills, so I left orders for the others. We went to our favorite place in the low hills. It had changed little since the first time we climbed here and I told Him who He was.
That memory never left my mind. It was as fresh today as when we talked so many years before.
When we sat, He said abruptly, “Mother, our money is gone.”
As He aged, He took care of our finances. He doled it out when needed but I knew He would keep me informed.
Now, the inevitable had happened.
After paying for the Bar Mitzvah for James, Joses, and Judas, the betrothals and wedding feasts for James and Hannah, the money was almost gone. I knew that but tried to ignore the inevitable. Now we were facing the betrothal of Joses.
“I know Jesus. I"ve been worried and I simply didn"t want to say anything. I don"t know what to do.” I clasped my hands tightly together. “It seems more money goes out than comes in.”
“It is.” He answered. “The shop isn"t making as much money as I would like. Profit from the furniture sold must go to the families of the boys. James must have enough money to support his family and Simon needs some compensation.”
“And what about Jesus?” I asked, knowing He would never take money for Himself.
“I have my home with you,” He turned to me and smiled that beautiful, beaming smile of his. “You feed me very well and I have enough clothing, so I need for nothing.”
“Oh, my dear Son, how very blessed I am to have You. I must disagree, though. You do need certain items for yourself.” I protested.
“Mother, should I ever need anything, I"ll let you know.”
We looked across the hills where we could see a caravan moving at a snail"s pace way below us. I thought one of the people I saw plowing in the far away fields must be Joses. But I couldn"t be sure.
I looked at Jesus when He asked, “Mother, those gifts the Magi gave me so many years ago, where are they?”
“In the jewelry table at home.”
“We must sell them. That will give us enough money to see the rest of the children grown, married and in their own lives.”
“I wanted to save those for You.” I protested.
“Don"t you understand Mother? This is for me. If there is money, then I don"t have to worry that my family is not taken care of.” He looked up at me. “I know the sale of these items will give us enough until they are all settled.”
“What about you, Jesus? What are you going to do?” I turned and looked closely at Him.
He shook his head, that long, dark, curly hair that clung to his scalp with sweat. “I don"t know yet. Sometimes I feel I"m about to burst. Something will happen, but I don"t know what it is, or when.” His voice grew quiet.
“Sometimes, when I come to the hills alone, I feel all this knowledge pouring into my brain. I feel like it will explode with everything crammed into it so rapidly.”
“My poor Child.” I said, taking His hand. My heart felt as heavy as if the world were sitting at the center of it. I yearned to take His burden.
“After one of these sessions, I sometimes walk over to the sea of Galilee.” He held tightly to my hand.
“I know.” I said, and turned to Him with a smile. “We usually enjoy fresh fish when You do.”
“Well...” He had a sheepish look on His face.
“Does it help to go to the sea?”
“I think so. Sometimes, I feel that will be where I begin whatever it is I"m going to do.” He released my hand and turned to look at me. “I met a fisherman the last time I was there. His name is Peter. He"s a big, gruff man with a heart the size of the sea he fishes in.” The memory made Him smile. “We talked quite awhile.”
“About anything in particular?” I asked.
“No. We talked about God and the waiting for Him to send someone to save His people.”
“Did you...?”
“No, Mother. I didn"t tell him, because I"m not sure how or when the ministry will begin. We just discussed a lot of different subjects. I was surprised at how informed he was on religious matters.”
“So you liked him.”
“Yes, I did.” He stood and a breeze ruffled his hair. He shoved it back with those expressive hands, then stretched toward the Heavens. His look at the cloudless sky was intense, almost as though He were trying to see God.
Suddenly, he grinned. “Peter is so wonderfully emphatic about everything.” He grinned. “He has an incredible family. His wife is a dear who mothers me almost as much as you do. And his mother-in-law thinks Peter is the best man her daughter could have chosen. I hope you meet him some day.”
“I"d like that. He sounds like a fine man.” I wriggled around and tried to find a more comfortable seat.
He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “I love you, Mother.” He sat back down, his hands clasped around his knees. “I wonder sometimes when my mission, whatever it is, will begin. I look into the heavens and see nothing. I wonder how I came from there and not remember more than I do.”
“I guess God will let us all know when He wants You to begin Your work.” I turned away so He wouldn"t see the tears. “I dread that day. I know You will be hurt, and I can"t stand the thoughts of that.”
“Mother, please don"t worry. I know you love me more than you do the others...” He looked at me as He made the matter-of-fact statement.
“Yes, I do. I can"t seem to help myself. Maybe it"s because You"re my first born. I don"t believe that"s the reason. I think it"s because You"re the person You are.” I stood. “Come Jesus, we must plan to get in touch with Jeremiah or Abner. The next time they"re through Nazareth, we"ll have them sell Your gifts,” My words slowed. I turned to Him. “Are you sure, Jesus?”
“I"m very sure I won"t need the money. We do need it now to see the rest of the children grown.”
We started down from the hills. I hated the idea that the inevitable had finally happened.
Not long after, the money from the sale of the gifts was put aside for emergencies.
Joseph"s father, Jacob came in from work one afternoon and before the day was out, he was dead. Even that didn"t seem to be enough for God. His mother, Martha, followed soon after. That cheery, bright, lovable woman who had given so much to me and the children. We missed her terribly.
Sarah seemed to accept her parent"s deaths more easily than she had Joseph"s. She told me she knew they couldn"t live forever, but she thought Joseph just might, because of the job God assigned him.
So I didn"t have to worry about her. I did try to spend as much time as possible with her and we often met at the well in the mornings. I felt as long as we did that, there was a continuity to our lives. Besides, we could keep up with the gossip of the village and our various family members.
My Father worked fewer and fewer days in the fields. He often visited Jesus and talked with Him for hours at a time. I never knew what their conversations were about. Rachel continued to stay with my Mother and finally, at the age of seventeen, met a young man who she felt was suitable.
By the time Jesus was twenty-nine, the others were all married and had their own homes. Their children visited our home any time they wished. Mother and Father were now sixty-five. We relished each moment we were able to spend with them.
Those were years of transition. Jesus spent more and more time in the wilderness. One day as we sat talking at the table, He said, “Mother, I"ll be leaving you soon, I think.”
If the heavens had opened and flooded the earth with a mighty drum beat and choruses of angels, I would have been satisfied at the terror I felt. But it was quiet. Even the buzz of bees and birds in the bushes and trees was muted.
How I kept my voice noncommittal, I don"t know. I sipped tea, put the cup down, and asked. “Where are you going?”
He had the strangest expression on his face. His eyes had a faraway look. It was almost as though He could see straight through to Eternity. He carried His body straight, as though he dared not let it sag one inch. I felt He was afraid to let go of the supreme discipline He possessed.
I noticed also, lately, His steps slowed. He appeared to be in deep thought most of the time. He had begun to take less care of his hair than normal, too. It was long and unruly a good deal of the time.
He shook His shaggy head. “I don"t know. I have a very strange feeling at times.” He looked at me with the saddest expression I could imagine. “I feel I"m being led to a certain point in my life. Sometimes,” He looked off into a distance I couldn"t see. “it feels as though I have the weight of the world on Me.” His voice held the anguish of a tortured soul. “And I don"t have the strength to carry it.”
His shoulders slumped as I rose and took Him in my arms. I could feel tears slide down His face, soaking my robe. His body shook with unspeakable pain as I held Him. My tears mingled with His.
“Jesus.” I said, softly. “Can I help with the load you carry?”
He gently moved from my arms and looked up. “No one can go where I must go.” The sadness of His voice was almost more than I could bear. “My Father is calling me to begin the work He sent me here for.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I clasped his hands in mine as I cried. “I love You so much. How can I bear to see You suffer?”
“Shhhh.” He said, almost as though He were talking to one of the babies of the family. “If you had not been the strong, good woman you are, God would not have chosen you to be My Mother.” He looked straight into my face. “I know when I leave Nazareth, I shall see you as often as possible. I don"t know when that will be or how often. I shall miss being with you, our talks and your advice.”
He rose, stretched, then asked. “May I refill your tea?”
I nodded.
He filled the cup, took one for Himself and sat back, facing me. “I heard that John was in the vicinity the other day.”
“John? Elizabeth"s John?” The news surprised me. We had heard nothing from him for years.
“Yes. Someone came into the shop and said he was preaching. He told everyone who would listen, that they must be baptized.” He refused to meet my eyes.
“Is that all, Jesus?” I asked quietly.
“No. John stated he is the forerunner of the Savior of the world.” The face of My Son was composed, and I might have thought this was just normal conversation. However, only one glance into his eyes and I knew the anguish He felt.
He was about to start the ministry He had been sent to earth for. But He didn"t wish to hurt me by letting me know the time was very soon.
My heart went out to Him. How I wished He were back in the cradle He never got a chance to use. Or beginning school or any other age than the one He now was.
“Oh, no.” My cup of anguish spilled over as the tea did, when I dropped my cup. “Not yet, Jesus, not yet.” I cried, my voice as steady as I could make it.
“Yes, Mother.” He patted my hand, then picked up my cup and placed it back on the table. “The time is almost here. I know it.”
He looked at me with a very strange expression. “There is something else I haven"t told you.”
“Can you talk about it now?”
“I want to, but I"m not sure you"ll understand.” He ran His fingers through His hair. “I"m not sure I understand.”
“Why don"t you tell me? Maybe we can both make sense from it.”
“I visited old Mr. Elijah who lives on the other side of town from us.”
“He"s the one who had an injury years ago and can"t walk, isn"t he?”
“He couldn"t walk. He can now.”
I sat up straighter and looked in surprise at Jesus. “Whatever do you mean?”
“We were talking and I asked if he"d like to pray with me before I left. He said „yes." Well, I took his hand and we prayed. I asked that God be with him, and make his pain as bearable as possible.” He stared intently at me.
“Suddenly, he groaned, put his hands on the arms of his chair and stood up.”
“Jesus, are you sure we"re talking about the same man?”
I knew we were, I just blurted the question, without thought.
“I"m sure.” Jesus answered.
I reached over and patted his arm. “Of course, you"re sure.”
“I was as astonished as you look at this moment.” And he grinned at me. “I"m sure I had little to do with it.”
I laughed back at him. “I know that poor man couldn"t believe what happened.”
“He couldn"t. He thinks he finally got through to God, and I agree.”
I shook my head in thought. “Your time really is near, isn"t it?” I felt such overwhelming sadness, I wanted to cry. Of course, I couldn"t. It would hurt Jesus too much.
“I think I will begin teaching the lessons My Father sent Me here for, very soon.”
I bowed my head, wishing I could let Him go without feeling as if my very soul was shrinking. Remembering the years we shared, I could hardly bear the pain of separation...and the inevitable death on the cross, which the prophets foretold.
“My son, My son.” I murmured. “May God give us both strength to face what we must.”
We bowed our heads and Jesus prayed aloud, asking His Father to take care of me, never asking anything for Himself.
Each day He was still at home was, for me, a blessing.
Soon after this conversation with Jesus, Leah wrote that her oldest daughter was being married and asked us to attend. The entire family...children, grandchildren, and great grandparents journeyed to Cana for the happy occasion.
Since so many people attended the wedding, many kinds of food were at a premium. We managed to feed everyone, however. At the height of the festivities, I noticed the wine was getting dangerously low.
I called to Jesus. “Jesus, the wine is running out. What can we do?”
His look was penetrating. “Why should you ask me a question like that?” His voice was almost angry.
“They can"t afford any more wine. Can you please help?” I hated asking Him to do something like this. I simply couldn"t let my sister and her family become embarrassed if something could be done.
“You know My time isn"t yet,” He accused.
“I know.” I agreed, and nodded. “Please Jesus, just this once, help me.”
He took a deep breath and said. “Have the servants fill the large casks with water.”
When they were full, Jesus dipped a goblet into the water. When I tasted the wine, I felt like the person who tasted it next.
This man said, holding his goblet high. “What a good idea. Most people serve their best wine first. When people are drunk, they serve the worst. But this...ah, this is wine fit for a king.”
I never asked Jesus to perform another miracle.