A Christmas Gift for you: 3 Drabbles - The Cradle
A 3-Drabble Series for the Christmas Season Inspired by the scriptures read during the Sacrament Service this past Sunday
The Cradle
He smiled, finally satisfied. Fitting the smoothed plank into place, he carefully hammered in the pegs that would hold the headboard, sides and bottom of the cradle together. Laying down his mallet, he reached for the bowl of oil and a rag. Rubbing the oil into the olive wood brought out the flowing lines of the grain that he'd worked so hard to align as symmetrically as he could. He wanted it to be as perfect as it was possible to be, a surprise for his expectant wife.
He set down the buffing cloth when he heard her voice.
"Joseph?"
* * * * *
"All the way to Bethlehem?" Mary protested. "But that's days and days away! We'll never get there and back before the baby comes!" She stamped her foot, on the verge of tears.
Joseph pulled her close, grunting softly as the child within her swollen belly, roused by her agitation, kicked him. "I'm sorry, dearest; but the decree says that we must."
The last thing he saw as he closed the door to their home was the cradle that he'd made to hold Mary's firstborn son. He consoled himself that he'd be able to lay the child therein when they returned.
* * * * *
"It's probably full of dust," Mary predicted, "and how we're going to get a meal cooked before the Sabbath, I have no idea; it's so late!" She wiped the sweat from her face as they walked the last bit of road towards their home in Nazareth.
"It will be all right, Mary. Look, Jesus; we're finally home." Joseph opened the door of the small house that they'd left four years before, and lifted his son down from his shoulder perch.
Jesus ran to the cradle and set it rocking. "For sister!" he proclaimed.
Joseph stared at Mary, surprised.
She smiled.
Written December 20, 2009
The Cradle
He smiled, finally satisfied. Fitting the smoothed plank into place, he carefully hammered in the pegs that would hold the headboard, sides and bottom of the cradle together. Laying down his mallet, he reached for the bowl of oil and a rag. Rubbing the oil into the olive wood brought out the flowing lines of the grain that he'd worked so hard to align as symmetrically as he could. He wanted it to be as perfect as it was possible to be, a surprise for his expectant wife.
He set down the buffing cloth when he heard her voice.
"Joseph?"
* * * * *
"All the way to Bethlehem?" Mary protested. "But that's days and days away! We'll never get there and back before the baby comes!" She stamped her foot, on the verge of tears.
Joseph pulled her close, grunting softly as the child within her swollen belly, roused by her agitation, kicked him. "I'm sorry, dearest; but the decree says that we must."
The last thing he saw as he closed the door to their home was the cradle that he'd made to hold Mary's firstborn son. He consoled himself that he'd be able to lay the child therein when they returned.
* * * * *
"It's probably full of dust," Mary predicted, "and how we're going to get a meal cooked before the Sabbath, I have no idea; it's so late!" She wiped the sweat from her face as they walked the last bit of road towards their home in Nazareth.
"It will be all right, Mary. Look, Jesus; we're finally home." Joseph opened the door of the small house that they'd left four years before, and lifted his son down from his shoulder perch.
Jesus ran to the cradle and set it rocking. "For sister!" he proclaimed.
Joseph stared at Mary, surprised.
She smiled.
Written December 20, 2009