Chapter Two

Elizabeth awoke to the sound of soft steady snoring.  At seventy three years of age, she had now listened to it for sixty years. She could pick Zechariah’s snore out of a house full of men snoring. There wasn’t much about him that she did not know now. The sound of his voice, the scent of his clothing, the touch of his hand on her shoulder, the myriad of looks that crossed his face daily.

She reached for his hand under the covers and squeezed it slightly when she found it. His snorted slightly and quietly cleared his throat. He squeezed her hand back then settled back to a rhythmic cadence of exhale then snore, exhale then snore.

Smiling, Elizabeth let go and pushed back the blanket from her stout frame and spoke the morning blessing.

“I give thanks before You, Living and Eternal King, that You have returned within me my soul with compassion; how abundant is Your faithfulness!”

Rolling over on her stomach she raised herself off the thin, straw filled mattress into a kneeling position. She pushed again with her hands and stood up. She shook her head side to side then pushed her long gray hair back over her shoulders. She waited for the pain in her bones to subside a bit before walking over to the window to have a look at the morning sky.

Opening the wooden doors of the window she gasped at the horizon painted orange and purple. The leading edge of the sun was ascending from behind the ridge of hills to the southeast. It’s brilliance was almost too much to look upon directly. Another few minutes and it would wash away the color from the clear blue sky and begin the slow march across the sky, heating the small hillside village like the fire of a furnace. Blessed be the Lord who made such wondrous sights she thought to herself as two birds flew by chasing one another then flitting out of sight.

She poured a glass of water and washed away the sleep from her throat. She had a full day ahead and began forming a checklist of tasks in her mind. First on the list was fetching water from the well. She liked to do in the cool of the early morning before the sun became too hot. She changed into her daytime clothing. Exiting the front of the house she grabbed the yoke for carrying the water pots and hoisted it upon her shoulders and neck and headed for the well.

* * *

Zechariah listened to the door close as Elizabeth left to get water. He normally slept a little longer than her but usually not by much.

“I give thanks before You, Living and Eternal King, that You have returned within me my soul with compassion; how abundant is Your faithfulness!” He said then rolled over and pushed himself up until he was standing. He took a short step to steady himself, his hips and knees bearing witness to his age.

He rolled up the mattress and cover then stuffed them on the shelf above the west window. Turning he watched the restless sheep and goats vying for his attention in their night pen by the front door.

“My little ones,” he said to them. “What is it you want on such a fine morning as this?”

The sheep and goats began crying to be let out pushing one another and trying to nose their way to the front of the line. Zechariah propped the front door open with a rock then opened the gate holding the animals inside. They quickly filed out to the front of the house and followed Zechariah to their day pen. Once all the animals were inside he threw an armful of hay over the side of the pen and headed back inside.

He stopped briefly when he entered the small house and said a blessing unto the Lord.

He slipped into his day clothes and finished the glass of water Elizabeth had poured earlier. Their small two room home barely covered 750 square feet. The main room provided space for the animals, cooking, storage for their few belongings. They used part of the space for sleeping at night and for eating during the day.

Zechariah pulled the eating table out from the wall. Taking the sitting mats off it he arranged them in their usual order. Zechariah like order. Everything was meant to be as it was meant to be he always said. Occasionally Elizabeth would place the mats out of order just to watch him fuss over them. He set the small oil lamp in the center and the cutting board for bread beside it.

Zechariah pulled a small container of incense down from the small shelf in the rear of the house and placed it on the table. He then retrieved a small charred pot adorned with angels on the side. They blew trumpets, a scene from the story of Jericho. This pot, a gift from his first Rabbi when he was a young boy, smelled of incense even before he place any in it. Every morning, since he was twelve years old, he had burned incense and said his morning prayers using this very pot. It was more than an old friend. It had become a part of his life, his soul. To lose it would be nearly as painful as losing his precious wife Elizabeth.

He set the pot on the table then went to the small oven and retrieved a single coal from it. Placing the coal in the pot he then began sprinkling incense over it and speaking the morning prayers.

“My God, the soul You have given me, She is pure. You create her, You form her, and You breathe her into me. and You guard it while it is within me. One day You will take it from me, and restore it to me in the time to come. As long as the soul is within me, I will thank You, HaShem my God and God of my ancestors, Master of all works, Lord of all souls. Blessed are You, HaShem, who restores souls to lifeless bodies.”

* * *

Miriam was the only person at the well when Elizabeth arrived, as was the case with most mornings. She lowered her shoulders until the pots rested on the ground then lifted the yoke over her head and set it upon the ground. She sat down next to Miriam on the rock covering the mouth of the well.

“How are you my young friend,” Elizabeth said.

Miriam smiled. She loved these early morning conversations with her old friend. Much wisdom was passed along just for the asking.

“Now that you are here my heart dances with joy,” Miriam said.

Elizabeth slipped her arm around Miriam and pulled her close. The two sat for a few minutes enjoying the embrace. Finally, Elizabeth leaned away and looked at her friend. Miriam was the closet thing to a daughter she had. She was one of the few neighbors who did not remind her daily she had born her husband no children. With Miriam, there was no look of judgment in her eyes, only empathy. She seemed to understand her pain better than anyone, and yet she was barely 14 years old and not yet married.

Elizabeth had prayed every day for the first fifty years of her marriage for a child, but when she passed the age when she could bear children, she accepted her fate and tried to hide her shame as best she could. Still, there were those who reminded her every chance they could. This was one reason she came to the well before the others. The other reasons, well, there really weren’t any.

“Guess what,” Miriam said.

“What.”

“Benesh and his father Haskel want to speak to my father. They have sold some land to raise money for a dowry.”

Elizabeth smiled at her young friend. “I have seen how he watches you. Where is he now, doesn’t he usually come and roll away the stone for you to get water? He should be here enjoying the beautiful morning with his secret love.”

“He is soooo shy. He blushes every time I smile at him. I have been wondering if he would ever speak to my father.”

“Benesh is a good boy. His family is a fine family.,” Elizabeth said.

Miriam leaned closer to Elizabeth. “Tell me Elizabeth. How did you and Zechariah get married?”

“Oh child, you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, yes,” Miriam said. “Tell me, please.”

“Well, he used to peek around the corners at me. Not unlike Benesh with you. This went on for so long. I was thirteen. My father used to chase him off with a switch whenever he caught him staring at me.”

“I can see it now. Him running away and all.” Miriam said.

“Yes, he would run,” Elizabeth chuckled. “But not too far. He would come back and get chased off again. His father was a shepherd. Had many sheep. He used to be gone for weeks at a time when the grass grew thin here. Then, just when I got used to him being gone, I would here my father shout, ‘Zechariah,’ he would say, what are you looking at? Go tend your sheep.’ Then I would hear a switch hit the side of the house and the sound of Zechariah running away again.”

Miriam giggled and squirmed sitting on the rock.

“Then, one day I saw Zechariah and his father Mordechai talking with my father. I knew he had finally gotten up the nerve. Oh, how my sisters and I carried on, watching out the window. My father was beside himself. How do you talk to a man about marriage when you have a house full of women giggling and peeking out the window. Anyway, he pulled out a leather pouch and handed it to my father. He counted the coins and agreed with them right there.”

“I wonder how Benesh will do it.”

“Tradition Miriam. Tradition.”

“Perhaps I will come riding my new donkey.”

Elizabeth and Miriam both nearly fell off the rock at the sound of Benesh’s voice. He laughed at both of them and motioned for them to get off the rock. He handed Miriam the reigns to the donkey he was leading and pushed the rock off the mouth of the well. He took the bucket and rope off his donkey and dropped the bucket into the well and let the rope slip through his hands till it hit the water. He twirled the rope around until he felt the bucket begin to fill then lifted it up a couple of feet and let it crash into the water. He then pulled it up and poured its contents into one of Elizabeth’s pots. He filled them both then filled Miriam’s pots also.

He place his rope and bucket back on the donkey and picked up Elizabeth’s yoke. He slipped it over his head he rested it on his shoulders. He jostled it back and forth a little till he had it positioned well then started back towards her house. Looking back at the two speechless women he said, “Are you going to bring my donkey with you?”

Miriam handed Elizabeth the rope tied around the donkeys neck and  picked up her pots.

“Don’t be thinking that just because you carry water pots for an old woman that you will get a piece of sweet bread with dates in it.” Elizabeth said.

“Why would I think that?” he replied. “My mother, she feeds me well. And she tells me everyday, ‘if you see an old woman carrying water pots, take her pots and hand her your rope. Why should she carry pots when she can lead a donkey so much better than a young man?’ How can I shame my mother by letting everyone see that I do not carry an old woman’s pots?”

“You have a good mother Benesh. She has raised you well.”

And the donkey said “Hee haw, hee haw.”

 © 2011 John Pearson All Rights Reserved.