…with the kindest Man the world has ever known.  How could I not be?

The world presses back the stretching mom with her little ones into irrelevance and ignominy, but her eyes see something eternal.  She fights a tide of “You’re nothing, you’re irrelevant, you’re not doing anything.”  Some days it’s a rip tide, threatening to tear her under, and God help her if there’s no one there to see.  But she loads all the little ones on her back and presses against the tide, driven by something this world does not count for much.

And so she presses, sure there must be something for her if she keeps on.  She’s got her own weight to get through the crowd, and also the crawling weight of the little ones, who are never still.  She’s pushing through unseeing, unwelcoming systems and people.  Without any words, they tell her that she will miss everything, be busy wiping a nose at just the right moment, that she’ll try to run and chase the Teacher, but the children will stumble, and together they’ll be left behind.  But she keeps trying and pushing, just in case there might be something for her.

And then when she gets close, the guys in charge rebuke her.  “There’s no time.  Go back.”  But her heart is saying, “They’re wrong!  I know my children matter.  I know they do…”  But what can she say?  She’s just a mom, her arms are aching and the kids won’t last much longer.  Soon, she’ll need to nurse.  Did she try so hard for nothing?

Then…His voice, undignified.  “Stop it!  Stop it!  Let them through!  DO NOT FORBID THEM!”  And the brown, tender carpenter is running toward her, now, eyes on her small son.  “Bring them to me…”  And the heavy babe who’s about to break her arm has wriggled to the ground to leap at the One with the strong voice and the gladness in His eyes.  She rubs her bicep and hears her daughter whisper, “Mama, I think He likes us…is He glad we came?”

And everyone has to bend down and strain to hear what He says, because he’s low to the ground, level with the little ones.  She holds her breath because He’s talking to her son.  “Now, here you are.  I’ve been looking for you.  Will you help me talk to the people?  Climb up here in my arms, what a strong little warrior you are!  All of Jericho could not stop you, eh?”

And then, loudly:  “Here is the heart that I’m looking for.  Here is the Jew who is ready for the truth, the one who will believe.  This is how the kingdom works.  A heart that has not yet been hardened by pride into independence.  But who is soft to love.  He does not try to provide for the Father.  He only brings needs.  He does not explain why he is right.  He’ll just receive what I say and believe it completely.  He’ll obey immediately, just because I said to.  When he doesn’t, he’ll know he’s wrong and he’ll come back and cry in My arms about it.  When I tell him I love him, he will love Me back.  That simple.”  Well, those weren’t His exact words, but He spoke, “…of such is the kingdom of Heaven…” and she was intimately acquainted with his bright-eyed prop.   She watched as He set her son down, and gasped when he immediately lunged for the Teacher’s staff and climbed up on a rock to imitate Him.

But the Teacher only laughed and turned to her daughter.  Now, he had her little girl’s face in His hands and she gave back a dazzling smile.  In the crowds she hears whispers, “Such a beauty…”  There had been no such whispers a moment ago, when she was pressing through the crowd.  But then her daughter had not smiled like that for at least a year, since their money had run out.   Jesus was whispering to her daughter, pointing to the heavens and saying the word, “Abba…”  He touched her hair and began to count, making her daughter giggle.  “It would take a thousand years!” she cried, in their private conversation.  “I tell you the truth, little beauty, He has counted them all.  He is Abba.”

She looked down and saw her dress was wet with her tears now.  Could this be happening?  She had been right about her children.  They were important, the Teacher thought so.  Still the little wrinkle between her eyes remained.  Would her children remember everything He said to them?  If only she could write, she would record it forever.  What if they didn’t even remember meeting Him?  Then the dancing, burning eyes were looking straight into hers.

“This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel
after that time,” declares the LORD.
“I will put my law in their minds
and write it on their hearts.
I will be their God,
and they will be my people.  ³⁴ No longer will a man teach his neighbor,
or a man his brother, saying, ‘Know the LORD,’
because they will all know me,
from the least of them to the greatest,”
declares the LORD.”

Why did the words of Jeremiah ring like a bell in her when He spoke them?  Had He even spoken it out loud?  Had anyone else heard it?  She choked in the shock and pleasure of His attention, trying to form words.  She understood.  The Holy Writings…for her.  The ancient prophecies…about her children.  The temple rulers would strike her for such blasphemy.  But she knew:  Whatever this Teacher said was true.  The women of old had sung songs of victory and praise, and that was what she had in her heart…Miriam’s, Deborah’s, and her own all mixed together.  But all she could get out of her mouth was to point to the children and say to Him…  “Yours…Rabbi…we are always with You…”

It would never be appropriate for a woman to express love to a Rabbi, she wouldn’t think of it.  She remembered to drop her eyes.  But in her heart, the tide had turned and she was rushed forward, pressed back no longer, and every other voice had become insignificant.  Even when the Teacher was tried as a criminal and hung on the tree, her devotion was fixed.  He was perfect, she knew.  The kindest Man who ever was, and everything He said was True.

Many waters cannot quench love,
Nor can the floods drown it.
If a man would give for love
All the wealth of his house,
It would be utterly despised.

Song of Songs 8:7