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You ask me to tell you who he was? ... You want to know how we met? He was ... just another poor boy ... a traveller ... with visions and dreams ... I can't explain ... he was ... he was himself. We met ... well. if you can call it a meeting ... he came in from the desert ... He was ... I suppose you'd say he was dishevelled ... I just thought he looked a mess. He'd obviously been through something ... you could see it in his eyes ... and he had no-where to go. I just did what seemed natural ... I took him home ... Yes, I suppose it does seem ironic to you ... to have a man like that in my house ... but he didn't make any bones about it ... I think he was just glad to have somewhere to go. I remember he ate as if he hadn't eaten for days ... I don't think he had. He was covered from head to foot in dirt and dust from the desert ... and he apologised ... he apologised to me for eating without washing first ... I told him not to be ridiculous ... And then I saw the pain in his eyes and my stomach turned over ... What had happened to this poor, poor boy? I took him in my arms and wept.. and my tears ... it sounds odd ... but I felt my tears washing away the dirt from his face ... and his hands ... and his feet. ..oh. those poor scratched and weary feet. It might seem strange to you...it does to me sometimes ... but I think my tears washed some of the pain away too ... I don't know ... Anyway ... afterwards I told him to bathe and took his clothes to wash them ...They were filthy too... I told him to use my bed ... no, nothing like that ... He was exhausted and he was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow. I watched him sleeping ... like you watch a little child ... and I saw the lines on his face soften ... and I wondered who he was ... who he was and where he was going ... and I was afraid for him ... such a poor boy in times like these... I lay down by the fire and listened to his breathing ... I can't have been asleep long when I woke to hear him calling out in his sleep...1 went to him and all the pain was back...and the fear ... oh God, the fear ... it gripped his whole body ... I took him in my arms like a baby and I soothed his forehead and I told him over and over again that it was only a bad dream ... only a bad dream and he must forget it and go back to sleep-.-and he kept saying "No ... no ... the nightmare won't go away... it's there ... waiting for me...if I go to Jerusalem..." He was so afraid ... In the end I picked up my perfumed oil ... I massaged his forehead ... trying to soothe the lines away ... I held his hands and kissed and massaged them ... trying to give him something to hold on to ... and I massaged his feet ... those poor feet... and gradually, he relaxed and drifted back to sleep ... He stayed a few days ... until he'd got some of his strength back ... Oh yes, it caused gossip ... I was used to that ... I worried about him though...but if it bothered him he never showed it. We sat and talked most of the time ... He was always hungry, I remember ... and always talking. We would prepare the meals and then sit and talk. He always stopped when it came to breaking the bread, though... and the first sip of wine... I remember, he always made those moments special. And then, he would start talking about his "Abba". I thought it was his Dad he was talking about, at first, and was really impressed by how close they were. It was only as time went by that I realised that he was really talking about God ... to me of all people! But, you know, it's funny-.-he never once made me feel uncomfortable talking like that ... it was as if I had always known it ... that God really was a Father ... and he was just helping me to.. .well, feel sure of it. I knew as well that it was something he had to tell everybody else ... I'd see that fire in his eyes and the passion in his voice ... and I knew that he had something in him that he had to pour out into the world ... He had a message that would bring new life to the world ... and he had to make it real ... But I was afraid for him ... in troubled times people don't always want visions ... well, they want them ... but they're afraid of them too. And the people who are most afraid are the people with the power to stop you ... So, anyway, he went on his mission ... but he often came back ... usually with a whole gang of people needing to be fed. You could tell by their faces that some of them were not very happy to be seen with me ... let alone to be eating with me ... He'd have none of it adjust said, "This is the best bread you'll ever taste ... we put our heart and soul into it, don't we, Mary?" I laughed and told him not to be daft ... but I have to admit I remembered that when he asked me to make the bread for that Passover meal ... But I'm getting ahead of myself ... He would come with all these people and all day he'd be talking ... telling stories ... trying to get across to people what God was like ... you could see some of them really needed to hear what he was saying ... it was as if you could see them growing in front of your eyes ... But there were others ... They looked as if they understood but you could see that they felt uncomfortable ... and I heard some of them talking outside ... They stopped as soon as they saw me, of course, but I'd heard enough ... and I felt very uneasy ... In the evenings, though, when nearly everyone else had gone, we'd sit together round the fire ... and he would relax and tell stories and laugh ... He had such a laugh ... and I'd find it hard to remember that poor boy I took in off the street or the man who couldn't cope with all the crowds and their demands ... They were blessed times those evenings.Sometimes, though, when we were on our own ... he would talk about other things ... He knew what people were saying and where it could all end ... where it probably would end. I knew when he'd talked to the others about it. Simon had told him not to think like that ... Oh yes, they'd decided they were on to a winner ... nothing was going to stop them. But he knew ... and I knew... in times like these...One night ... near the end .. . we were sitting ... not saying much ... He was tired ... though there was more to it than that ... He was holding his cup in both hands and looking deep into his wine ... and he said, "If I go to Jerusalem ... if I go ...... they'll kill me, Mary .... they'll kill me........" There was nothing I could say.... He took a sip of his wine... I put my hands around his on the cup and drew it to my own lips... And he knew that I would go with him ... that I wouldn't forsake him now....And I didn't .... I saw it all ... I saw my poor boy beaten and tortured by people not fit to touch his sandal ... I heard the crowds... "Crucify him ... crucify him" ... Crucify a boy who had spoken of love and forgiveness ... and do you know, even there, he spoke of forgiving them... "They don't know what they are doing" ... didn't know what they were doing! They were bloody experts in what they were doing ... some of them even enjoyed what they were doing..... And his mother was there ... Can you even begin to imagine what she was going through... to see your son...your precious boy...hanging in agony....I don't know how I felt ... I looked at those beautiful hands and feet tortured by nails ... and I saw the lines on his forehead ... and the pain and fear back in his eyes ... and I couldn't reach him ... I couldn't touch him ... This time I couldn't take the hurt away...I was glad when it was over ... when, at the last, he let his spirit go into the hands of his Father ... and it was over....They took out the nails and brought him down... We took him in our arms like a baby and wept together over our poor boy. Someone brought water and cloths ... and a shroud ... and we gently washed away all the blood and the sweat and tried to ease away the lines of pain from his forehead ... People were telling us to hurry... so they could get him out of the way before Passover... We wouldn't be hurried... This was the last thing we could do for our boy and we were going to do it right...In the end, though, Joseph persuaded us that we had done enough for the time being ... and told us that we could visit the grave after Passover to finish off the funeral rites ... So we took him to the tomb ... and laid him there.... I looked at him lying there... still and quiet... but this time there was no breathing to listen to... I looked at his mother ... and saw that she needed to go ... it was her that needed my love and comfort now ... I put my arms around her and we began to turn away... As the stone was rolled into place, I caught a glimpse of the cloth covering his face and wondered.... "Will I see you again?".........
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