mary, letter of explanation

Letter of explanation

I don’t' know what made me do the things I did. I always heard voices telling me , "Go ahead do it, it'll be fun." And the voices never agreed on what to do. Conflict upon conflict crowded my mind. I never kept friends for long. Mostly because they dropped me after they found I slept with their husbands. The last guy I slept with was the last. We just finished having a good time when the door flew open and there stood his wife. She ran screaming from the room. Seconds latter if not sooner the room was filled with neighbors. I barely had time to wrap a sheet around me before I was hauled outside. Sharp things pelted me. Beer bottles were breaking beside me. People were slapping and kicking me.

This was it. The end. I wouldn't walk away from this. No one was going to call for help. Suddenly calm. More calm. My heart was pounding so hard that’s all I could hear in my ears. I peeked out of the sheet I had pulled over my head, feet were walking away. They had stopped tormenting me. Timidly I lowered the sheet and looked around.

A group of men were sitting a ways off watching me. One of them walked over and handed me his long coat. "Try not to get into anymore trouble, okay?" He helped me to my feet and left.

I got up and raced home, showered and dressed. I felt something different. I didn't feel anything. Something was different, I always felt something. The voices were gone. This was strange. No one ordering me around.

I sat and drank some tea and reflected on things... for a long time. The sun set and rose again several times. I didn't go to work at the bar. I didn't feel like stripping for a living anymore. The desire to shock people had left with the voices.

A few days passed and I eventually stepped out of my house, no one recognized me as I had washed the goop off my face and was wearing a modest outfit. Strolling no where in particular I noticed an assembly in the park. There he was. The guy who gave me his coat. He must be some kind of story teller, an actor or something. I couldn't get close enough to ask him where he was staying since he was performing. Off to the side were some of the guys I recognized from that horrible night. I approached them to get his address. They politely gave me directions and told me when I could find him at home.

I couldn't get there fast enough with his coat. I really wanted to thank him for helping me. I didn't know the right way to thank him though because I usually expressed thanks physically and some how I didn't think that would go over big this time. I actually didn't even feel drawn to have sex with him or any of his buddies for that matter. When I arrived where he was staying there was another group of people. Man, was this guy ever alone? Such is the life of performers. Women and men were spilling out of the house having a good time. They wouldn't want me around. They were out of my league. They seemed like nice people. I never mixed well with nice people. I'm the girl every one's mother warns about. Then I saw
him coming down the street. He was limping. His feet looked sore. I got to him first and offered him my shoulder to lean on the rest of the way home. He quietly accepted my offer. When we got there I took off his shoes and noticed a blister on his big toe. I inquired of his friends where the bathroom was and went for a wash rag and some water to clean his foot. Damn, I'd forgotten a towel to dry his foot with. I didn't want to leave him again so I undid my braid and used my long hair pulling it between his clean pedal digits. It tickled his feet and we shared a comfortable laugh. He was really easy to be with. I had some perfume in my purse so I scented his feet with it for fun.

A long and wonderful relationship started between us. Since I was now out of work I followed him in his story telling trips and helped cook for the entourage. He hadn't been on the road long. His was a new act. It was a combination family counseling, medical treatment, entertainment show. We were cleaner than Walt Disney and no comparison to the Hare Krishna’s. There were a lot of men and women devoted to him. We were a mixed bag of nuts but completely family. The people I thought were upper class clean cuts were from the same dysfunctional ,maladjusted drug pushing, alcoholic back ground as me. I loved him the most. But strangely nothing sexual ever entered my mind. I'm guessing it didn't enter his either because he never made a pass at me. For the first time since I'd been on my own I was treated respectfully and I was beginning to like it. And what's more I had female friends. We shared makeup tricks and intimacies that I never got to share with anyone else before. We all had weird backgrounds, lots of excess baggage we dumped somewhere and actually walked away from.

Some of the established acts resented my new friend's apparent success. They had seniority with their acts and didn't like the throngs leaning towards his stage. His gimmicks and tricks really attracted attention. One day a group of jealous, murderous felons grabbed him and tortured him before they killed him. The law closed it's eyes to the event. No one wanted to take the blame or point a finger. He didn't even have a descent funeral. Someone just took his body and dumped it in a hole. I went with some friends to see that justice was done on his behalf and put him to rest properly. We looked all over for him. He was no where to be found. I got frantic. Life wasn't fair. He was such a quiet calm man. He hadn't looked for trouble, he just loved telling peaceful stories, stories that gave you that feel good about yourself feeling.

Suddenly we saw an explosion. I say saw because we didn't hear anything, just saw a bright light that covered half the horizon, then we felt the earth move, we fell to our knees and covered our heads. After a few seconds we regained our footing and hurried in that direction. As we got close two men ran past us, I remembered seeing them in the mob that killed my friend. The front of their pants were wet and they were babbling incoherently about ghosts and zombies, their faces were severely contorted. We weren't sure we wanted to investigate the explosion anymore and started to retreat when a young man walked up to us.

"We're looking for a body, have you seen it?" I asked him.

Then he said my name. It was him. He was radiant, not a sign of the beating he'd received was left on his body, except for a few scars on his hands and feet. We all fell at his feet and kissed him. Pulling us up one by one he told us to go tell his staff where they could find him.

As per his instructions we gathered on his favorite mountain to meet him. He gave us some instructions and encouraging words and told us he wasn't staying here anymore. We all wanted to go with him. We could start over also. He didn't have to go by himself, his enemies were our enemies. As we were begging him to take us with him his head looked taller, looking down we noticed his feet were not on the ground anymore. The more we looked the higher off the ground his feet rose till we were looking at the bottom of his shoes. We all stepped back. Was this an other one of his wonderful acts, if so it superseded them all. Higher and higher he went till we saw him no more. The silence was deafening. No one wanted to admit what they saw. There were hundreds of us yet none of us believed our own eyes.

A voice attached to a white willowy figure informed us. "Close your mouths and go home, He'll come back again in the same fashion, keep your eyes open for him." The wispy figure dissolved into the air and we stumbled home filled with awe and a deeper love for mankind than I can ever explain.

We all broke up and went in different directions to spread the story of Jesus, our best friend and now our savior. My name? Mary Magdalene. And no, I never slept with him or any of his followers for that matter. Leave my name out of that gossip mill.

demons

When dad met mom he was a mess. She was his reason for changing. He reinvented
himself into something desirable and went after her full steam. Eventually he
convinced her into marriage and they produced three off spring, I'm one of
them. Ultimately his old personality resurfaced. He had failed to replace the
old habits with new ones that would stick. Apparently his love for mom was not
sufficient for permanent alteration. His demons came back and brought numerous
acquaintances,(demons don't have friends). He resumed gambling, drinking,
sexual explorations on the web, spending over his income and even though it
wasn't mentioned I wonder about pedophilia. Mom must have also because she
sent him packing one night after he came to my room to give me a nighttime hug
after a drinking excursion.

He moved into a private, quaint cardboard box with other deviants and
misplaced humanity near the old cemetery. The cemetery went back years and
hadn't been used for decades so the living homeless moved in. I would go down
there an watch him from a distance. I was afraid of him, he wore barely no
clothes and got into tons of scrapes with his fellow rejects. I would spy on
him as he cut and beat himself till he bled or got worn out. He was a
terrifying sight but he was still my dad and part of me loved him dearly. Mom
and I prayed for him every night. I am beginning to doubt that God is
listening, however.

One late afternoon as I was hiding in the bushes a group of tired looking
hobos approached the homeless camp. They looked like they had been walking for
a while, their feet and clothes were dusty and they needed a good bath but
they actually appeared decent. Good upbringing shines through even hard
times. They asked a few of the people if it was alright for them to bunk down
there for the night. Most of the residences ignored them, and a few grumbled
acquiesce. The group pulled out tents and camping gear and set up housekeeping
on the periphery.

After some time they had a campfire going and food stewing. The aroma spread all the way to me. My salivary glands started watering. Some of the old timers gathered around the new fire. The new comers invited the onlookers to join them. Soon there was laughing and talking and partying, but without alcohol. Oddly there seemed enough food for all who came and they did keep coming. I couldn't see the size of the pot through all the people but I couldn't imagine it feeding so many. Some of the old timers brought food to
add to the menu. No one was sent away.

I was tempted to approach but feared my dad who was by himself and between me and the goings on. He had a scowl on his face that was intimidating. He was shaking and sweat was pouring from him.
Withdrawals? Without warning he ran to the assembly with a sharp knife, cursing profanities. One of the new hobos stood up and palm upward motioned for all to be calm. The old timers were afraid of dad, they had seen him hurt too many so they cowered in a huddle. The brave man walked towards dad slowly
and calmly. His hands up to show no aggression or bad will. Dad stopped short right in front of him and fell to his knees crying. I inched forward in the bushes, amazed

Dad started talking first, “I’m so sorry, I know who you are but these voices in my head are screaming at me to kill you!"
"How many voices do you hear?"
"Thousands, I can't distinguish them!"
"They are leaving you now!" the stranger proclaimed raising his eyes to heaven and pointing at a flock of
crows. Sparks flew at the crows that got agitated and soared upwards. Butting heads and knocking some out they tangled up in each other and fell down into a barbed wire fence getting trapped where they would stay till they died.

All was silent except for the cawing crows. The company around the campfire were all eyes and ears. No one talked. The friends of the newcomer didn't looked surprised. They could predict the next few moments of conversation, yea, they could recite it verbatim if they wanted to, but they just watched and smiled.

Dad stopped crying and hugged the man's feet and ankles. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I'm your humble servant. I intend to follow you forever and care for you."

"Nonsense. You have a family that needs you. Go to them now. Caring for them will show your
appreciation for what I've done."

Who told him about dad and us? None of the old-timers would know. Dad was after all not very
social or outgoing. The newcomer did something else that astonished me. He looked over in my direction at the bushes I was hiding in.
“Come get your dad and bring him home!" I slipped out of cover and hesitantly approached. The man's eyes were soft and gentle.
Dad stood up astounded and resuming his role as daddy asked, "What are you doing out at night over here? This is no place for you."
"Nor for you, come home with me." I extended my hands and brought dad home.

It didn't take any convincing for mom to let him in. Standing at the open door, staring into the dusk she seemed oddly prepared for his return, with a bath drawn and his clothes over the bed. She knew he'd be back tonight! She had been sitting with her bible open when a fantastic premonition hit that urged her to be ready for something dramatic.

Dad demons were replaced with good spirits after this event. He volunteered at the homeless shelter and starting teaching Sunday school and did so with authority, as one with a personal knowledge of the
savior. His old boss rehired him and mom got to quit work stay home and care for us and the next three additions that appeared. What a wonderful life I have now, far better than Jimmy Stewart's! (except for the extra babysitting I'm drafted for!)

the encounter

The Encounter
by collette mcfarland
09/12/06




He came in and took a booth in the back. I had my eyes on Him waiting to see if anyone would join Him. He wasn't a regular. I don't think I'd ever seen Him around town. After my third drink I sauntered over, my legs somewhat unsteady. He would do till some better prospects arrived.

"This seat taken?"

"No, please." Standing he pulled out a chair for me. Unusual.

"Alone?" I asked

"My friends and I are passing through. They're out grocery shopping." He answered. "Would you mind buying me a drink?"

Oh, brother. A dead beat. "Men are supposed to buy mine." But I motioned for the waitress.”

What will you have?"

"Just a coke, please."

At least I won't be out much, I thought, as I ordered his drink and a refill for me. He passed his hand over my glass, "Sorry, I thought I saw something on it." He explained.

He had the saddest expression as he observed the customers around us.

"So many hurting people." He said, more to himself than me.

"This is where they come all right. Alcohol is a great pain killer." I drained the last drop of my drink and ran my tongue around the rim, seductively. He didn't pick up on it. I ran my fingers down my cleavage.

"So big boy, what do you do for a living?"

"I work with my dad. We have a restoration business."

His eyes looked into mine so deeply I felt my soul being stripped. I didn't mind exposing nude flesh, but my heart? Then it started, words just spilled over themselves to fall on the table. It didn't take long to fill him in on my whole life. My marriage, divorce, marriage, divorce, ad infinitum. Things I'd never told a living soul, and things I hadn't even admitted to myself. I didn't have a clue as to what caused the hinges on my jaw to flap wildly; I'm not the talkative type. It just seemed as if nothing about me was a secret to this man. I buttoned up my blouse, inconspicuously, one button at a time, and pulled my skirt down lower to cover my knees.

People started coming in for happy hour. As they passed our table their ears would bend and before long they became part and parcel of the conversation. So many recitals of hurt and agony slopped out of broken vessels. So many "let me tell you about this" stories. He just sat and listened, and let tears slide down his cheek. Then He shared truths that caused us to see things differently. Somehow all the mistakes that led me down this road seemed reversible.

Chairs scrapped across the floor as our group expanded. Then tables were pushed together to add more entries to our cluster. Adulterers, drunks, gamblers, liars, thieves, and druggies, and dozens of them were patrons of mine. We all met on common ground and nothing offended this clean-cut young man. No topic was off bounds, no language was corrected, but over time foul words evaporated and were replaced with acceptable substitutes. Alcohol flowed freely, yet no one seemed to get intoxicated. It was as though we were drinking water. In fact the more I drank the more sober I became. Someone told the manager to turn off the jukebox. None of us wanted to be distracted from this man's wisdom. It wasn't long before God became the central topic. Odd none of us took to our feet and ran, we weren't after all the church going types, more like church burners. It seemed so natural to discuss God in this bar. Never once was religion brought up, however. He made God sound like a personal friend of ours who, who'd known us from before the cradle.

"God is a spirit. He is wherever we are. He doesn't want to hear from us for just an hour on Sundays". He explained. "He loves it when he's talked about, or to, anywhere, bars included." He sounded like he and God were on first name basis.

Eventually some more strangers showed up. His friends, I guessed. One came up to him and whispered in his ear, "Sir, you don't need to be seen with these riff raff. That's a whore you're next too!"

"Look again. I think you're mistaken." He replied, firmly, laying His hand on mine. He wouldn't argue in my presence. That was obvious. So gallant. I felt esteemed. My reputation hadn't been defended in years, if ever.

"We're done shopping. Let's go eat." another friend of His suggested, meekly.

"I've already eaten." He responded. His friends glanced at each other. Only pretzels and peanuts were on display. Surely this wasn't enough to satisfy Him after the long day of work.

We all got to our feet to beg Him to stay when He was finally ready to continue his journey. He promised this wouldn't be His last contact with us, and he was sending a friend to guide us. We all escorted him to the door like a parade. It was hard to believe we'd only known Him for hours. Some of us slipped money into His hand. Only the proprietor seemed relieved He was on his way.

I went to my car, keys ready, and I looked at the gaudy neon sign in the parking lot. Jacob's Well: Drinks and Strippers. I would never be seen here again. No part of me. Ever. I wasn't even going home to my latest shack up. He wouldn't miss me me until the rent was due. I was going home to my family, to beg their forgiveness. He never did reveal his name. I did notice initials on His shirt, though. J.C. Wonder what they stood for. For me they stood for, "Just Cured!" One thing I know for sure. He was definitely in the restoration business. Restoring souls and lives. And hope.

John 4:1-26
Math 9:11
2 Cor. 5:17
John 16:7

covers

by collette mcfarland
07/22/06


Look at all the covers. How can I tell what I want to read. I know I want
something short, something with romance and a good plot,lots of action. There
are so many books to choose from. I pick one up. There's a man that looks like
Fabian on the cover leaning over a girl that looks like the girl next -door's
ugly third cousin twice removed. He thinks he's God's gift to woman and she
thinks he's her birthday present. The story makes her out to be some insecure
female not worthy of his attentions. Like he's the type that would have a
relationship with a wall flower! Give me a break! He would be dating some other
empty headed well contoured body with a face designed by her plastic surgeon !
It's a harlequin romance, all these stories are the same. Boy meets girl, girl
is intimated, hates, or is otherwise not interested in afore mentioned boy.
Pursuit, run , fall , capture , tame. Now how often does that happen in real
live. Guess that's why it's called FICTION! The book is too long and phony to
keep my interest.

Here's another book. A house with a face on it. The face looks evil. Story plot
is about demon's possessing a house. Too much inside this book for me. I'll
sleep with the lights on and sprinkle holy water around my bed and on my pillow
and wake up to the aroma of mildew. I like a good fright but this book will take
to long to read so the nightmare will last for several weeks.(At my reading
speed). Besides it's been made into a movie. I could rent the move cheaper and
watch it in an afternoon and forget about it by bedtime.

The cover of another book draws my attention. Guns, violence, drugs, sex,
espionage are all promised on the book jacket. These books are usually to hard
to follow. You never can figure out the plot or whose who. Too many charactors.
Here's another book. No picture on the cover. I pick it up and look to see how
thick it is. It seems too large. I might loose interest in the story. Then I
flip through the pages to see how large the print is and if there are any
pictures. There is no indication on the back cover about the contents. Only the
title is on the front cover and spine and it's not in English, the title is
some greek name. It looks like it's filled with many short stories though. It's
divided in sections. I could read it in parts. The captions on some of the
pages lead me to believe it's got a wide variety of tales about sex, lots of
sex! Men sleeping with married women, men looking for wives, women sleeping
with ex father in laws, brothers killing brothers,rape, wars, peace,
dysfunctional families, loyal daughter-in -laws (that part must be the fictional
stuff)...unwed pregnancies. Oops, I see some nightmare stories in here too.

This book is wild. It has every thing I need in small doses. I can read it
slowly chapter by chapter and not loose track. It will cover my need for
romance, violence and love. I examine the stack of books I picked this one up
from. It's an enormous pile and it's in the back of the store. Does anyone buy
this book? Maybe it's not such a good idea for me to get one. No one else seems
interested in it. In fact they are staring at me just for holding it.
Well I've never been swayed by popular opinion. I think I'll buy it and give it a try. I
can always bring it back for a refund. I believe I've heard of a movie by the
same name before, I don't think it was a great success. Not many movie theaters
presented it. Well I'm off to give it a try. I'm not expecting much though.

At the register the cashier informend me,"This is a great book."

"It doesn't look like many people have bought it."

"This is our second shipment this week."

"Have you've read it?"

"Oh yeah, several times. It had a good ending for me."

"Don't tell me how it ends!" "It doesn't end the same for everyone."

"How's that?"

"Read it and see for yourself."

After I replaced my credit card in my wallet and headed for the door the cashier called after me,"Enjoy your new Bible!"

the family reunion

Family Reunion
by collette mcfarland
07/14/06
For Sale

Family reunion

 I sat behind him holding on for dear life. The wind blowing in our faces splattering our masks with bugs. The ride has been hard and arduous. Sitting on a motorcycle for days is anything but delightful for me right now. I used to

enjoy it but my recent weight gain, centrally located,  has made it uncomfortable.

 We are on our way to meet Joe's family at a reunion in a little farming town in the heart of Arkansas. The

first since our marriage. I've not met most of his relatives and the one's I do know are not singing my praises. They cautioned Joe to reconsider marrying me.  I'm too young to be faithful, having gotten myself in the family way, and by their theory, not by Joe. I have excess baggage, I have mental disorders, illusions of grandeur.  You name it, they've said it. No one in the band is on my side. My Joe though thinks I’m worth the trouble. He's heard the same voices as me, seen the same visions of the future that I’ve had.

 “We’re almost there, “Joe assured me, patting my hands that were wrapped around his waist. 

 I can't wait to see his ancestral home as it has been in his family for centuries. His relatives have had numerous difficulties keeping hold of the home since farming has suffered over the years with droughts and other various problems. 

The night was thick around us, our lone headlight lighting the way along the narrow back roads, trees and open fields whizzing past. We swerved several times to avoid deer and stray cattle that stepped out from the darkness. I was pretty sure we'd survive the trip whole as the lord of the universe was with us.

 Joe asked me once if I wanted to stop for the night and continue on the next day but I knew he was anxious about getting me to a soft bed. I didn't want to add to his worries about me. I promised him I'd be okay. Even I can tell lies.

Every muscle in my frame hurt, my head ached, and I was chilled despite the leather jacket Joe loaned me. He will be a fantastic husband and father some day. I laid my head on his shoulder, grateful he was in this with me. God found

the perfect husband for me.

 Joe nudged me, I don't know how but I must have dozed off? Up ahead were some wooden structures that had the glorious appearance of a farming residence! We ere here. Happy anticipation and ugly dread welled up in me simultaneously. I was looking forward to a hot shower and a goose down filled mattress. But I

surely wasn't looking forward to the freezing stares and back biting that would surface in the family. Joe had offered to come alone but we both knew we'd be running for our entire lives so we decided to face the jury early, together and

unified. Family support should be expected, not begged for. My parents have disowned me saying I disgraced them, They had reasoned with me and Joe when we announced our intentions to marry someday, promising an elaborate wedding if we waited three years till I was eighteen but instead we eloped, giving an illogical explanation. 

 Now they abhorred Joe for sweeping me off so secretively, where once they had admired and respected his integrity, even though they thought he was way to old for me at thirty. My friend's parents restricted them from associating with

me. I wasn't a nice girl anymore. Being an honor student and god fearing girl once, at the synagogue as often as the doors opened, I had now slipped into immorality. I was an outcast to everyone I knew. I had only one cousin that

believed the story of my pregnancy. One cousin out of dozens wasn’t saying much, and this one was

something of a clairvoyant;  my family thought her incredibly unreliable since she was up in years and dealing with a husband who’d recently lost his voice about the time she became pregnant herself, as much to her shock as the community’s . So Joe and I had to start out married life under the burden of heavy disapproval and would probably have  to do a lot of unwanted traveling to protect our secret. 

 Joe parked in the driveway and helped me off the rear. Lights were on in the house but no cars were outside. It looked deserted. Joe went to the door, discovered it was locked, and found the note. Everyone had gone down the

road to his uncle’s, he was  invited to join them and he could bring "that woman" with him. Me, that woman.   His gaze swept over me measuring my exhaustion and he opted to stay here till they returned, we had ridden enough for now. 

  "Let's go in the barn and rest." he suggested, getting our gear out of the storage unit. I followed him on heavily swollen ankles, my body feeling restless.

 In the barn, lying on a mattress of straw, I became alarmed. I was in pain so severe I can't describe it. All my muscles bunched up and tried to squeeze the life from me, literally. Joe's eyes widened in trepidation.  

"I'm going for help!" he stated. 

 "No, don't leave, I'm scared!" I yelled, grabbing his arm, breaking skin with my nails.  

 It was too early for this. My doctor advised against this trip warning that I had two more weeks to count down if I was careful. I never knew such pain was possible, I had conned myself into thinking I would be spared

this misery, that giving birth would be as heavenly as the conception. I was convinced Joe was going to faint but something got into him and he took over the situation, fully in control.

 He laid some horse blankets down on the hay and eased me onto them. My construction worker husband, never exposed to human child birth in his life, acted experienced as he helped deliver our baby. "A boy", Joe confirmed, though

we already knew that, even without sonograms. A son all covered in blood an goop. He didn’t look a thing like I expected. His face all red and scrunched up with crying. If this was considered a miracle he looked like a mess to me.

He even peed on me as he lay on my abdomen where Joe placed him before he   severed the umbilical cord. Joe must have done some heavy reading of first aide material! Or being raised by farmers had served a good purpose. Our baby would be told repeatedly that he had been born on the same family land as had generations before him. Finally something positive to say to him as he grew up. Hopefully it would improve the reputation of Arkansas, not much good has ever

come out of this state. We weren't big fans of Clinton. Sorry. I was criticized but he avoided impeachment, give me a break! 

 I lay there in the straw and equine blankets, sweaty, bloody and depleted of all physical reserve. There was a explosion of lightning outside over the hills, or was it a falling meteorite? The lightning was followed by hundreds of

falling stars. Were the heavens collapsing? Would the fields burst into flame?  And then a choir broke into song somewhere in the distance. It sounded close and was comforting. I held my son close and marveling at him we fell asleep

together serenaded by the music.

Soon afterwards people started trickling home. I could hear slow footsteps approach the barn. Joe opened the door and saw his family shuffling about in the light that fell from the lantern he was holding. They looked oddly

uncomfortable, afraid to approach a relative they had known for years. Joe went out to explain to them what had taken place, but he was astonished to discover they already were informed of the event. They had received an announcement from an invisible choir. It shook them up so badly some of the group had wet spots on their overalls. They were real hesitant to admit they might have made a mistake about cutting me down. They were begging Joe for forgiveness and wanted a pledge we wouldn't call down a curse on their heads. My Joe, always the honorable man, informed them there was nothing to forgive and to not be ridiculous, he had gone through the same agonizing reflections as they had

months earlier and had time to come to terms with circumstances. He too, had had visitations from unseen sources, family insanity must be hereditary, he joked. They laughed nervously. 

  Everyone entered slowly and reverently, awestruck by the miracle of birth considering, as farmers, they were well saturated with the phenomenon. They wanted to get me on my feet and into a clean bed.  Joe's old eccentric, widowed Aunt Anna supported me, as his even older cousin Simeon, lifted the babe into his arms, proclaiming he was now ready for death,. Odd thing to say, I thought, while holding a newborn. 

 I could almost feel the warm shower I was about to receive and taste a hearty country meal melting in my mouth before I climbed under homemade quilts. All anxiety flowed out of me, I even forgot the pain I had just under gone. It’s a

wonder the human race has continued. If it had been up to me the world would be childless.  

 Crossing the driveway to the house I heard one of Joe's brothers comment on the sky. "Where did that star come from? I've never seen one so bright!"

math 1:18-2:12

luke 2:25-38