A Christmas tale

Spring is a happy time when the world is blessed with new life. But not for Yosef. He watched his young wife’s belly grow daily, but felt nothing.

In bed she used to grab his hands, made rough by labour, and place them on her swelling. “He is your son, Yosef. He is yours!” With all her heart she willed him to love the baby, for she knew that he would never love her.

The day her waters broke, Yosef thought of killing her. So many died while bearing children. What was one more? He decided that if she called for Panthera in the distress of the birth, it would be the last word she spoke.

Miryam cried like the young girl she was. She cried for her mother, for her cousins, for her family. She cried because no one who loved her, was with her. Only Yosef. And he would never forgive her. In the end she cried for him. “Yosef I’m scared!”

Her tears softened him at last, and he held her. And they were blessed with twin boys. Yosef named his eldest son Yeshua and the younger Yehudah. They looked exactly the same.

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