My Corner of the World: Short Story: Miriam

Dedicated to all those who are or feel different. To the parents of and families of those with special needs: be encouraged! “The Lord your God is with you. He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with his love. He will rejoice over you with singing.” Zeph. 3: 17

Miriam

I have called you by name. You are mine. Is. 43:1

“Do you really want to be like every one else?” The teacher’s question brought tears to her eyes because she had never thought about it before. She could not remember ever being any other way than the way she was. She was born that way she guessed, though she did not know why, and she had often wondered if her father and mother had known the first time they held her in their arms- what kind of child she was.

Perhaps they had and that is why they called her “Miriam”. Some said it meant “bitter” others said it meant ‘Rebellion”.

Was she rebellious? She tried not to be. True, she couldn’t do the things that the other children in the village did, she couldn’t run and play like they could, and it was hard for her to help around the house, but she tried. She tried to do everything her grandparents and mother told her, although there were times when she dropped things and spilled and though they told her that it was alright; she could see the disappointment in their eyes.

What was her rebellion? What was her sin? She often tried to remember what sin she had done, but she couldn’t remember. Surely it was great for her to be so afflicted.

She knew that people in town speculated that it was not hers but instead her mother’s sins that caused her affliction. The talk made her mother very sad and she was seldom seen outside the confines of her parent’s house. Perhaps it was her mother’s sin- for especially since her father had sent her a letter of divorce; she had lived a life of solitude and shame.

Miriam didn’t exactly understand what that meant. Divorce. She didn’t understand a lot of things, but she found out that part of that word meant that they had to leave their home.

It meant that her father didn’t want her- or her mother because he didn’t want more babies like Miriam or her little brother. They hadn’t even named him, because he was like her, but he had died, before he had lived at all. Miriam hadn’t gotten to hold him or even hear him cry or see him open his eyes.

Grandmother said babies went to live with Father Abraham and it was a place where all were happy and there was no sickness. Her baby brother would be able to run and play and there no one would call him bad names or treat him like he wasn’t there. The more Miriam thought about it, she decided that he was the lucky one after all.

But it still made her sad to think of it. It would have been nice to have a baby brother, if only he hadn’t died; but her daddy had said it was an answer to prayer. The Almighty had heard his plea and not given him another child like “That One.” He had said with a jerk of his curly head at Miriam.

Come to think of it- her father had never used her name. He called her “That One” or “That Child” or “You” or a myriad of other names that were not pleasant but were not especially bad.

People in the village called her much worse, and they did not try to spare her feelings. They spoke of her often, even when she was there amongst them and they didn’t even lower their voices because she was just a dummy. They thought she couldn’t understand anyway so they said things; things that hurt. They thought that just because she didn’t talk and couldn’t run and play like the other children then she couldn’t feel things either.

So, for the most part Miriam tried to stay as close to her home as she could. At home, her grandparents and her uncles and aunts were there to protect her. At home she was not “You” or “Dummy” at home she was just herself, Miriam. At home she was loved and talked to and treated like someone who belonged to them, not just a dummy or a cripple.

Her cousin Rebekah would show her how to do things so that she could be helpful. She had taught her to spin thread because Rebekah had patience with her. She didn’t mind when Miriam dropped things or when she forgot little things, she only reminded her to try again. Her grandmother spoiled her too much, people said, and her Grandfather called her his “little dove” and he shared stories with her that none of the other grandchildren heard. Her Uncle Jacob was her hero and protector. Since he was a boy he would fight the other boys if they said ugly things about her. He had come home with bruises and black eyes plenty of times on her account. She would cry about it but he would ruffle her hair and tell her it was nothing. And it worked, for now that he was older and stronger the men didn’t say things about Miriam if they thought Jacob would hear.

Things were busy at home though, because her Cousin Rebekah was getting married. But though Rebekah was happy Miriam had mixed feelings about it. She was glad she was getting married, but that meant that she would be going to live with her new husband in a town called Cana. On one hand, weddings were always exciting but this one was to be especially so because it was in a different town and that meant traveling. Traveling was always exciting, and Miriam loved to see new things. Her mother, on the other hand said there would be strangers in Cana and strangers could be bad. They said hurtful things and sometimes they teased her and played mean tricks on her. It was bad enough in their town where most people had grown accustomed to her and hardly paid her any notice anymore.

Her mother refused to go because of all the talk- surely there would be talk- how long would it be until they asked about her husband? Then what would she tell them? That he was dead? No she would surely die from the shame of it. The thought of strangers whispering about her and Miriam behind their hands at the wedding feast was more than her mother could bear and she refused to go and forbade Miriam as well. But Grandfather had seen Miriam’s tears and it was more than he could bear. He was the head of the house after all, and he still had a thing or two to say about the goings on under his own roof. He declared that if his daughter was going to be obstinate and stay home she could do as she pleased but she would not keep his granddaughter from attending. Mother had protested and cried but it did little good. Rebekah was Miriam’s favorite cousin, and Grandfather said Miriam was going to the wedding and that was that.

And it was. Grandfather’s word was law and he could be just as stubborn as his daughter if not more. He wiped her tears away with his rough fingers and told her to gather the things she would need and she gave him a smile that would melt the coldest of hearts and scurried away to her sleeping place.

While her mother pouted, her uncles and aunts and cousins were preparing for the journey. She loved the excitement of the preparations, all the cooking and cleaning and packing and scurrying to and fro. The anticipation was almost more than she could stand but she knew that it also meant that after the wedding Rebekah would not return. She would have to stay with her new husband and his family, and that made tears come to Miriam’s eyes.

It was a couple days’ journey to Cana and Miriam’s heart beat wildly as her grandfather lifted her onto his donkey and she waved good bye to her mother. She had never been away from her mother and she hated to see her mother cry so but Miriam was far too excited about the trip and being on her own and the wedding to be too sad as they left their little home behind.

The trip was fun for her; she had a knack for seeing the beauty in the smallest of things, things that most people never noticed. She would gaze intently at a sparrow flying, taking notice of how its wings changed as it fought the currents of air above them or how a single leaf would dance in the wind. Miriam could look at things for hours; it seemed without ever becoming bored. She would pick up rocks or plants along the way and inspect them, noticing every little mark or imperfection with a sense of wonder. Perhaps that was why people thought she was so odd. The adults rushed by things without even looking. Miriam on the other hand studied everything with such a thoughtful expression that most people thought she was mystified or confused.

The trip was long and difficult because she couldn’t walk as quickly as the others and often she would fall behind. That was when her uncle Jacob would sweep her up in his strong arms and deposit her on Grandfather’s donkey. He would tickle her and tease her as he walked alongside her. She enjoyed the camaraderie with her family and the feeling of freedom that being away from the overprotective eyes of her mother afforded her. The weather was perfect for traveling, or so her uncle said as he led her donkey. From time to time he would point out something for her to see- a fox disappearing in the underbrush, a shepherd boy herding a flock of sheep. They camped the first night near a clump of trees close to a running stream of clear water and cooked fish over the fire. The next night they slept in a cave and Grandfather reminded the children how King David and his Mighty Men lived in caves just like these. Perhaps the great King himself had slept in this very one where they were. Miriam slept that night and dreamed of the Shepherd King and somewhere in the distant hills she heard the tinkling of bells and the blurting of sheep.

The next day her family arrived in Cana and Miriam was excited to see Rebekah. She had gone early to fast and prepare for the wedding. There was a flurry of activities and Miriam tried to help the women as they prepared the feast and readied the bride for the wedding but everyone was so busy that she got left behind. Things seemed to be moving so quickly that to Miriam it seemed like no sooner than she arrived then it was time for the wedding. It was beautiful though, and as Miriam strained her neck to see, and while she felt gladness for Rebekah, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she wondered if she would ever be a bride.

The blessings were said by the priest and Miriam was almost trampled by the boisterous crowd of well wishers. She was swept along by the sea of guests, unnoticed by the taller adults who to notice of a small girl. She tried to move away from the thick of the crowd afraid that she would sully the robe that her mother had made just for such an occasion. It was deep blue with a red sash and delicate designs embroidered at the sleeve and the neck of the tunic. Her mother had spent hours with her needle in the lamplight, and had warned Miriam to keep it neat and clean and had made her promise to be careful.

The guests all gathered at the wedding feast and Miriam overheard excited chatter from some of the women (most of whom she did not know.) about a young theologian who had come with his family. He was making quite a name for himself, preaching at various places throughout the countryside. Miriam wondered which of the men could have been this famous visitor, but frankly, didn’t trouble herself more than a few minutes with that thought.

Overly religious people had a knack for making everyone around them feel like something less, and Miriam stayed away from them. She always felt like less; and if he made her feel less than less- that was not very much in her estimation. It would not be a good feeling. She would stay away from the Preacher.

She was pleased with herself that she had not sullied her clothing during the meal. She would have to tell her Mother that she had not spilled nor dripped nor called attention to herself at all during the meal. No one called her stupid, or treated her like she was not there the whole time and for a few minutes she afforded herself the luxury of letting herself pretend she was a ‘normal’ girl. It felt good, she reckoned, but now her belly was full and she was suddenly aware of how tired she was. The constant strain of traveling had finally worn down on her and all she wanted to do was find a quiet spot away from the crowd of people where she could rest.

She tried to slip quietly out of the house without bringing attention to herself but then a ladies ring caught her attention.

She stood stark still. Transfixed. She seemed unable to move away.

The lady was dressed like a queen, or as near to a queen as Miriam could imagine. She had never seen such fine clothing, but it was the ring that captured her attention. It was the color of blood and the rings facets caught the warm lamplight and reflected and sparkled like stars in the night or moonlight on the water.

Miriam stood, mesmerized by it. A smile played on her lips as she realized that in this whole room with all the hustle and bustle around her that she was the only one that noticed it. This beautiful thing was hers alone. It made her want to shout with joy, it made her want to show someone else but no- the adults would just shake their heads or ignore her or tell her it was nothing.

She wondered why the ‘normal’ people couldn’t see the special in the ordinary? If they were so smart why didn’t they see the beauty in the every day things?

They were too busy she decided. Too busy to look around them. To busy to notice even where they were going…

A man carrying an earthen pitcher of wine crashed into her and knocked her to her knees. His wine pitcher flew from his hands and though he tried to catch it; its contents spilled all over the hem of Miriam’s special robe as it shattered to pieces at her feet.

The wine made a dark red stain like blood all over the cloth. She looked up in utter dismay to hear the man growl: “You stupid girl! What are you doing? That was the last of it!”

It seemed like every pair of eyes turned to her. A hundred angry people, it seemed, stared at the girl with the ugly red wine stain on her robe. She could read the disgust on their faces; she could hear the words in her minds. She had heard it all before. “What is that idiot doing here? Who brought her? Why is she here with the ‘regular’ people? Doesn’t she know her place?”

She swallowed hard and ducked her head as she scrambled to her feet. Her face burned with shame as servants scurried to pick up the broken pieces of pottery. The tears came as she rushed blindly outdoors and into the cool moist air.

She would do what she always did when she was upset, since tears rarely helped. She found a quiet spot under the stars and prayed for the thousandth time that in the morning she would wake and be a ‘normal’ girl just like every one else.

Part 2

Miriam found a pitcher and wandered down to the well in the center of town.

She had been here earlier in the day with some of her aunts and cousins drawing water. Well, they drew the water and Miriam watched because she might have spilled or dropped the pitcher. She drew water and scrubbed vigorously at the hem of her garment. She felt the sobs tear at her throat and tasted the saltiness of her tears as she tried in vain to remove the ugly blood colored spot.

What would her mother say when she saw her robe? She would be disappointed of course that she had sullied it but when she heard about what the man had said and how everyone had turned and looked at her… Miriam almost felt herself shrink inside. Her mother would grieve herself into a headache and have to retire to a secluded place. She would say that Miriam should have never come. Perhaps not, she thought glumly although until up until just a few minutes ago it had not been at all bad. The tears were gone now- tears didn’t help anyway- or she would have been made whole years ago. She wiped her face, not willing to let her family see her wet cheeks, someone would miss her in a minute and would come looking for her.

Miriam heard footsteps and sighed inwardly but didn’t turn. She knew it was someone sent to retrieve her- perhaps one of her younger, smarter cousins who acted like they were the older and she was the younger. She hated that…

“Miriam.” A man’s voice said gently but she didn’t turn as he came closer. Surely he was one of the servants sent by her family.

“What are you doing out here?” The voice said. “You’re missing all the fun.”

What fun? She thought to herself, and the man laughed as if she had said it aloud.

He stood behind her for a couple seconds before she heard him sit down beside her.

She didn’t say anything. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk- it was just that she didn’t. It didn’t do any good- the words were there- in her mind but they wouldn’t come out her mouth, not without a fight, anyway. She would try, goodness knows she would try until she was blue in the face but she couldn’t make them come out the right way and the adults didn’t help. The adults would wring their hands and roll their eyes and say to hurry up and it would make her nervous and afraid as if it was not hard enough to get the words out. So she didn’t talk. It was easier. They already knew she was an idiot, they could think she was a mute too, it didn’t matter.

“It wasn’t your fault, Miriam.” The man said from behind her. “That man should have been watching where he was going.”

Her face burned with shame. Whoever this man was, he had seen the whole thing. She did not dare to lift her head to him.

“What he said to you was ugly Miriam. People should not speak to you so. You are not stupid.”

She ventured a look up at him wondering who this man could be. Who was this stranger to tell her that she was not stupid? Did he know her? Did he live in her town?

She realized with shock that she did not know this man. In fact she had never seen him before.

He smiled at her. He was young- not a boy- old enough to be married but not as old as her father. He was handsome and lean, he had the look about him of someone who worked hard but was not burdened down by too many cares. He had a freshness and a wildness about him, like someone who brings with them the coolness of outdoors when they step into a stuffy room.

She could not explain it, but she liked him, almost from the first minute when her dark eyes met his and he smiled at her.

“That—was---“ She struggled to make the words come out like they should but they stuck in her throat. “All—of it.” She said finally, glad at least that much came out right, but she would like to have said much more.

She looked down at the stain on her robe and sighed.

“No.” He said with a hint of dread in his voice. “There’s more now.”

Oh, joy. She thought to herself and the man laughed a her joke and she looked up at him sharply. Adults were mean enough when they were sober but a little wine turned them into vicious animals.

“My name is Yeshua.” The man said. “Do you mind if I share your hiding place? I want to get away for a while too I think.”

Miriam shrugged and scrubbed at the stain.

“Let me child. I can help.” The man said and reached for the hem of her robe. She felt embarrassment flood over her. A man, doing a woman’s job! A job she should have been able to do- if she wasn’t a dummy. Tears threatened to come again but the man smiled up at her, his dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight under his dark curls. “It’s all right, Miriam. I have a little sister. Your age.”

“You—“ she fought at the words. “You’re—“ she started and the man looked up at her in expectation and she fumbled with her sleeve. She could feel her scalp prickle in frustration and anger. Why was she so dumb?

“Miriam.” He said calmly. “Don’t lose patience, child.” He touched her temple gently and then her mouth. “Just think of what you want to say and then say it.”

She looked up at him in shock. Her lose patience? It wasn’t her who lost patience- it was everyone else who told her to hurry up and say whatever it was she was trying to say! Or they would interrupt her and tell her they didn’t understand even before she had time to get it all out they would turn and walk away. The worse ones tried to pretend that they understood and they said “Yes” to whatever she said. She wasn’t the one who lost patience.

“Go ahead child.” He said with the air of a prince. “What do you want to tell me?”

“You’re—the Teacher.” She said at last and let out a quick breath of relief.

He chuckled but did not look up from the hem of her garment. “If you want to call me that. Yes.” He rubbed the fabric with his rough hands.

“Miriam. That is a very beautiful name. I am quite partial to it.” He said conversationally and he looked up just in time to see the girl grimace. “You don’t care for it?” He asked and she shook her head.

“It means—bitter.” She spat.

“Oh, and are you bitter?” He teased and she shook her head. “I didn’t think so. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Or—rebellion.” She finished.

“And are you rebellious?” He asked and she swallowed hard. He was a Teacher after all, he would know if she were but she shook her head again. She didn’t try to be at least.

“My mother’s name is Miriam. I don’t think she is neither bitter nor rebellious and neither are you.” He assured her. “I have heard it means not bitter- but strong. Miriam; Waters of Strength. I think that fits the two of you. Don’t you think?”

But surely she was rebellious. Surely she had sinned greatly at some time.

She wanted to ask him and she raised her head to ask him, opened her mouth to form the question but then reconsidered and shut it again.

“You wanted to ask me something?” The man said without raising his head.

She shook her head.

“Oh, come now!” He teased. “I can tell you’ve thought about it for a long time. Go ahead. Try to stump the teacher.”

This man had such a way of making her feel comfortable! She enjoyed being with him. Why couldn’t all adults be like this one?

“Teacher, who sinned?” She asked and wondered if he would understand.

He looked up at her and sat back, almost as if taken aback by her question.

“Everyone sins, child.” He said, but then his eyes narrowed. “But you don’t mean that do you?”

“Me or my parents? Who sinned? Why I’m different. People say it’s – because I sinned.” She finished and he looked almost as if he could cry at her question and she instantly regretted asking it.

“Dear child, it’s not because you or your parents sinned. It is for the Glory of God that you are different.”

She stared at him. How could her being this way give glory to God? She didn’t understand it! Surely this man was mad!

The preacher lifted her chin so she would look up at his dark eyes. “Being different is not bad Miriam.” He said resolutely and she felt tears sting in her eyes. Who was he to tell her being different was not bad? What did he know about being different?

“I do know a little something about being different Miriam.” He said to her thoughts and it made her feel ashamed that she had thought such a thing.

“But—I want—to be like everyone else!” She cried out and tears stung her eyes.

He touched her face gently and wiped her tears away with his rough fingers. “I think that would be a shame. God wants you like you are!”

She shook her head. How could God want her like this? Surely He was angry with her. That was why she was like she was.

“The Father wanted someone to rejoice in the beauty that no one else sees. So he made few- a very special few who could see.”

She looked up at him. Did he know about the ring? She thought about how it sparkled and twinkled like stars and no one else noticed. She wondered if she was the only one who could praise God for that? Was there no one else to give him praise but her?

That made her feel sad. That God the Father had created all the beauty and no one took time to see it and thank Him for it.

But the Teacher laughed aloud and his voice was clear like a bell on a still night.

“What a pity it would be if there were no one to praise Him for the beauty in the ordinary! What a shame if there were no one to notice the beautiful creation hidden all around us. If you were like every one else then who could see the wonder found in the patterns on a stone or the artistry of a speckled bird’s egg?”

Miriam thought about it. She had never considered it before. That she was something more than a mistake. She was lovingly created to serve God and not a punishment for some hidden sin.

“Did you ever consider that it is your purpose to remind others to praise God for the things that they overlook?”

Her face crunched up as she thought about it. He laughed and pulled her into his arms for a brotherly hug. She had never been touched by a stranger with such fondness. She had hardly been hugged by family with such feeling! He stroked her hair and chuckled deep in his throat.

“You don’t know how special you are to the heart of God! And you want to be like everyone else!” He said as he pulled away from her and looked into her round face. “Shame on you Miriam – you who are pure in heart and can see the beauty of God all around you!” He lifted her chin and made her look at his dark eyes again. “You are lovely in the sight of the Lord! As the Prophet said ‘He takes great delight in you. He will quiet you with his love. He rejoices over you with singing!’ You, Miriam, sweet one. You bring him great joy!” He smiled at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “On the contrary, Little one, The Lord of Creation wishes that others were more like you!”

She could feel a smile spread over her face and she covered it with her hand but the preacher pulled it away with a chuckle.

“Never hide your smile! You are beautiful child, and you please God just the way you are!”

She laughed, but just as quickly as her joy came, she was reminded of something more.

“But Teacher—I want to run and play like other children!” She cried out, and the pain in her voice seemed to break his heart.

“Of course you do, child!” He said gently and his eyes were full of compassion. Miriam got the feeling that if this preacher could change things for her—he would. “Have you asked the Lord for this when you pray?”

How many prayers had she prayed? She couldn’t count that high. Surely it was more than the numbers of stars in the sky!

“I’ve—asked Him—to make me a normal girl.” She confessed.

“Do you really want to be like everyone else?” The teacher’s voice brought tears to her eyes. “Now that you know how special you are in His sight? Is that what you want?”

“No, Teacher. I want to make the Father happy. But I want to run and play too!”

“Then you ask amiss.” The preacher said sadly and lifted his finger to the dark sky. “Don’t ask to be like everyone else. Rather, you should ask to be able to run and play.” He held her hands and folded them together as if in prayer. “Ask Miriam. He loves you. He would not deny you that one thing.”

She looked up shyly. “Will you—pray for me Teacher?” She asked and her voice waivered with uncertainty. She had heard everything that people had said about him at the wedding. He was going to be a great teacher one day. Did someone as important as him have time to bother with a little girl?

“Of course I will.” He promised and she felt confident that he would keep his word.

“Miriam!” Her grandmother’s voice came to them with the night breeze.

“I’m afraid it’s time for you to go my little friend.” He said and she stood but she found herself not wanting to go.

“Remember what I said.” He said as she took a step away from him. “You are lovely in the sight of the Lord. Your purpose is to remind others to praise God all His blessings. However small or great.”

She turned back to him, her heart full to bursting with a newfound sense of purpose and joy. The preacher waved at her as she left him but then she turned suddenly, realizing there was something else; she ran back to him and threw her arms around him.

“Thank you, Teacher!”

“You’re welcome, my little friend!” He laughed aloud and the sound of his laughter made her want to dance. “Go now, your grandmother is looking for you, but don’t worry we will meet again!”

Her grandmother scolded her for leaving the wedding feast on her own and she tried to explain about the ring and the wine and the Teacher at the well.

“What do you mean you ruined your robe?” Grandmother snapped. “It looks fine to me!”

Miriam looked down and for the life of her could not find the ugly stain. She looked back for the Teacher but he had already gone off alone to pray.

“It’s time for bed!” She pushed her along. “We have a long journey tomorrow! You need your rest! You know you cannot do things like other children!”

Miriam smiled. For now. She thought to herself; but as soon as the Teacher prayed for her- she felt confident that if God were going to answer anyone’s prayers it would be his.

Part 3

The next morning, Miriam awoke to the songs of birds and buzz of insects. It was early, before anyone else rose. Only the kitchen servants were awake at this time, preparing the morning meal and the meal for the day.

Soon the wedding guests would be leaving- returning to their homes. Miriam knew that they would soon leave as well. She thought of the preacher she had met the night before. She wanted to see him again. She thought about what he had told her. To ask the Father to make her able to run and play like the other children. She didn’t want to be wobbly anymore or to lose her balance. She wanted to be strong, and run free like the lambs in the field.

She decided that morning that she would pray a new prayer; bolstered by the Teacher’s insistence that the Father would listen to her and answer her prayer. He too, said he would pray, and she believed him. He was not like the others who said they would pray and then never even uttered one word toward heaven.

She rose and dressed herself. This morning it seemed so much easier, she didn’t even have to call her grandmother for help so she slipped outside unbeknownst to her kin.

The sun was rising, painting the sky with hues of oranges and reds. She found her way to the well again, where she had met her friend the night before and watched the sun rise. She remembered his words. They rang in her memory. “What a pity it would be if there were no one to praise Him for the beauty in the ordinary! What a shame if there were no one to notice the beautiful creation hidden all around us. If you were like every one else then who could see the wonder found in the patterns on a stone or the artistry of a speckled bird’s egg?”

Birds chirped and in the distance she could see a little rock rabbit watching from beneath a scraggly tree. She remembered what the teacher had told her and thanked the Father for the birds song and the rabbit twitching his ears and chewing carefully on a thin blade of grass. A breeze lifted her hair away from her cheeks and she thanked Him for that as well. The words came easily from her tongue. They weren’t jumbled up or they didn’t fight trying to come out. Perhaps it was because there were no people around to make her afraid.

Women were coming, carrying jugs for their water. The well would be busy soon, full of women with scornful eyes and harsh words for her. She stood carefully, fear gripping her that she would lose her balance for the thousandth time and fall. They would laugh at her or call her names. There might be one who was kind enough to help her but for the most part people were ugly. She held her arms out to steady herself; but her feet stood sure and steady; just like any other little girl. Her legs felt… strong… they wanted to run, to leap like a gazelle. But she couldn’t.

Just then she saw the familiar figure in the distance. She was sure it was the teacher, without even being told. He was with his friends the fishermen and an older woman which he led on a donkey. His mother. She thought to herself and smiled. He was good and kind, and he had a sister her age and his mother’s name was Miriam too. That made her special and well loved by the teacher. Silently she said goodbye to him and when he turned in her direction she lifted her hand to wave goodbye.

He also raised his hand but then he shouted something.

She strained her ears to hear him, and when the words came to her she could hardly believe them!

“Run Miriam!” He shouted to her and he cupped his hands around his mouth so his voice would find its way to her ears. “Run and Play!”

For a second she stood dumbstruck. Run? But she couldn’t run!

“Run!” He shouted again. “Run and Play!”

Her legs wanted to run! Her feet wanted to obey the Teacher! She could not hold back! She picked up her skirts and took one quick step and then another and then she could not stop. She was running! Her legs carried her and she threw her head back and felt the wind rush against her face. She was a gazelle or a little mountain goat. Her feet were strong and she leapt and danced like the lambs in the pasture!

Then she heard laughter, all around her and in her. It was the Teacher’s laughter. He was so far away now, almost a speck on the dusty road but she heard his voice all the same.

“Go tell you family what God has done!”

She waved to him, and he lifted his hand again before he disappeared over the small hill.

“Miriam!” Her uncle called out. “Everyone is looking for you!” He ran to her breathlessly. “Where have you been girl, everyone was worried!”

“Uncle!” She cried. “Watch me! I can run!”

Her uncle grimaced. “No, Miriam. Be careful! You know you can’t—.” He started but she gathered the hems of her skirts and he winced and leapt toward her, ready to catch her. But she rushed past his outstretched arms and his mouth dropped open.

“Catch me Uncle Jacob! Catch me!” She called out and he laughed aloud. He could not believe his eyes. He was not a boy but not too old that running after his niece would be undignified- and even if it was… He didn’t care. He caught up with her and she leapt into his arms. He lifted her above his head in his strong arms and spun with her, laughing until tears came down his ruddy cheeks.

“Miriam!” He panted when he set her on the ground. “What has happened to you?”

“The Teacher told me to pray Uncle Jacob! He said to ask the Father to let me run and play and I did!” She danced around him. “And He did!” She laughed and clapped her hands together. “He did Uncle!”

“He sure did!” Was his only response besides the laughter mixed with tears.

Miriam left Cana that day with her family. She was sad to go. Sad to leave Rebekah there with her new husband, but she was also excited. She walked most of the way on the way back. Sometimes she ran ahead of them though they called for her to come back she could not help it. She waded in the little stream when they made camp and scared her grandmother witless when she clamored over the rocks like a mountain goat. Her grandfather laughed at her until great tears fell down into his grey beard.

When they reached her home her mother was waiting for her. She held her hands over her mouth and cried out when Miriam ran into their little home.

“I can run and play, mother!” She told her as her mother wept. “The teacher said that we didn’t sin. God made me this way to bring him glory!” She lifted her chin proudly. “I make Him happy, mother! I don’t want to be like the other girls because I make Him happy just the way I am.”

The story was told that there was a great miracle that took place at Cana that night. Rumors were spread that the host ran out of wine but the Teacher had turned water into wine. Then it was heard that in all different places, in Capernaum, in Jerusalem, in Samaria, along the shores of the sea of Galilee, tales of the Teacher performing miracles, teaching, healing, driving out demons. Jacob would be hard pressed to believe such tales had it not been for Miriam’s sudden abilities.

Grandfather would nod his head in acknowledgement until the day he died and say the Teacher from Nazareth had done more than one miracle in Cana that day.

Miriam could walk and run and help her mother. She could run and play just like the other children but she knew she wasn’t what they called a normal girl. She was still different. Sometimes other people would ask her why she didn’t ask the Teacher to heal her and make her like everyone else. She would lift her chin defiantly and say “The Teacher said that the Father made me for a special purpose. He is happy with me the way I am! I do not wish to be anything less than that!”

She knew that one day she would see the Teacher again; he had promised after all- if not in this life, then most assuredly in the next. Until then, she would live and praise God for the beauty that only the few- very few special ones like her could see.

The origin and meaning of the name Miriam is unclear, although, as many Levite names are for some reason Egyptian, it may have to do with the Egyptian word for Beloved (see the name Merari). On a Hebrew stage, most scholars derive the name Miriam from the verb

(mara 1242) meaning to be rebellious, disobedient. A derivation from this verb is

(meri 1242a) meaning rebellion (see the name Meribah). Jones' Dictionary of Old Testament Proper Names reads Their Rebellion. NOBS Study Bible Name List reads Obstinacy, Stubbornness.

Another possibility is a combination of the words