Chapter Fourteen

THE mornings seemed to rush by faster than a frightened rabbit being chased by a hungry jackal. On this particular morning Martha felt breathless from all the hurried, noisy activities.

   She had, along with Naomi and Hannah, bathed three as yet unnamed infants, cleaned and bound up John and Abram's scraped knees, taught little Ruth the basics of loom weaving (with a lot of mischievous giggling and not much success, Martha noted), and between a score of small interruptions tried to hold a semblance of a conversation with her sister, Mary.

   They were finally alone, sitting together in Lazarus's old room when Mary said, "I didn't see little Lazarus this morning. Where is he, and what mischief is he about now?"

   Mary sat nursing her own infant daughter, Rebecca, and all Martha could see of the baby was a tuft of golden red hair which stuck out of the wrapping blanket. It matches her mother's hair exactly and always brought a smile to Martha's lips.

   "The boy is fit and well and, oh, Mary, his mind is quick and eager to learn about everything. In fact, he is so well he drives me to perplexity for wanting to hear about Lazarus, the Master, and the tomb." She laughed and then continued, "I think he said he was going to meet his friends by the old Bethany well this morning."

   Tabitha knocked quietly and stood in the doorway holding a tearful child.

   Martha patted her lap and said, "Give her to me."

   She settled the girl down and soothed the child's hair out of her eyes. Then, holding her close, she explained, "This is my little Ruth. I fear her ears are forever closed. She will probably

Page 216

never hear the singing of a lark or the laughter of the other children."

   "So to compensate for her losses you hug her more often than the others. Right?" Mary smiled kindly as she spoke.

   "Ah, you guessed my secret," Martha said.

   "Well," continued Mary, as she rocked her baby, "I've seen you work your magic on many children in the past three years, especially Lazarus. And I know our Lord, the Great Physician, shares his healing power with you. It won't surprise me if that child hears someday!"

   Martha buried her face in Ruth's neck, blowing air and tickling her to avoid the compliment.

   Mary was not to be stopped, so she said, "Each time I see little Lazarus and the way he runs, I am amazed. Remember the first time we saw him?"

   "Oh, I shall always remember! You give me too much praise, though. Remember it was Jesus who touched his legs, not I." Martha patted Ruth's legs as she talked.

   "May the Master heal your ears," she whispered into Ruth's tiny deaf ear, "but if not, I'll be your ears as I am one of Lazarus's eyes."

   Mary finished nursing Rebecca, and as she tied up the lacing on her tunic, she looked at Martha and the child on her lap and said, "I wouldn't fret about Lazarus's eye, my sister. What he has lost in sight, you have given him twofold in love! He is a whole boy even with his losses."

   Long after Martha had walked Mary and the sleeping Rebecca to the gate, later that day, she pondered the wholeness of the one-eyed boy, and her tears flowed in an easy joy.

   "You said, Lord, you would give us an abundant life and surely you have," she murmured.

   Martha was crossing back through the courtyard to the house when, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something or someone move behind the trunk of the largest olive tree. When she saw the edge of a bright tunic, she easily called out his name.

   "Lazarus, you can come out of hiding now. I am too old for you to jump out of trees to try to scare me."

Page 217

   When he did not move she quickly hid behind a large porch column  to outwait him. But the edge of his tunic stayed firmly in place.

   Feeling instinctively that something was wrong or that he had done some mischief, she moved through the bed of bright golden flowers and bent down beside him.

   He turned his face away, but not before she saw his tear-streaked cheeks

   "Child, you've been crying." He wouldn't look at her or acknowledge her presence for a moment, but when he did, his eyes widened in surprise.

   "You have been crying, too, Mistress Martha."

   A small burst of laughter rippled out of her before she had a chance to catch it.

   "Yes, I have been crying, but my tears are tears of joy."

   The boy studied her.

   "Sometimes," she said as she picked up the edge of her skirt and wiped his dirty face, "when you are very, very happy, you cry tears of joy. This has been a special day, a busy one, but a good one; a day the Lord made. And I was just tearfully rejoicing in it.

   "Now, tell me," she pried, "were you crying happy tears or sad tears?"

   "Neither," he responded simply.

   "Really? What then?" Martha pushed for an answer.

   She saw his chin snap up in a defiant way, and he said, "I cried angry tears."

   "Oh, my, the worst kind," Martha sympathized. She took his hand and led him to a bench.

   "I am not a baby, like Rebecca," he said as he sat beside her.

   "No, you are not a baby like Rebecca. You are six years old."

   "Yet I do not know why I cried!" he uttered. "I stayed out here because I was ashamed for you to see me."

   Lazarus picked up several small stones and threw them idly against the courtyard wall in front of them.

   A secret signal passed between them, and Martha joined his game. For five throws apiece neither of them spoke. The boy hit a center stone in the wall accurately each of the five times, but

Page 218

even when she squinted her eyes and took careful aim, Martha missed.

   "I'd make a poor David if I were trying to hit Goliath, and I guess I'd never be a good soldier, either," she observed.

   "Oh, no, Mistress Martha," his voice was filled with shocking vehemence. "You'd make the best soldier in all of Judea. Better than Claudius or any of his men." He sat very still beside her and almost fiercely he added, "If you were a man, they would make you the commander of the whole garrison, because you are the best!"

   Sensing there was a great deal more behind his words, she slipped her arm around him and pulled him close. Softly she asked, "Tell me, Lazarus, what happened in the village today?"

   She felt his body stiffen with tension, and she knew she had struck home.

   He answered in flat, measured-out tones. "Morticia was talking about school and how soon he will be old enough to be an apprentice in his father's wood shop. He asked the other boys what kind of tradesmen they would be, and then he got to me. In front of all the others he laughed, pointed at me, and said ...."

   "Come now, what did he say?" Martha wanted the truth. Lazarus hesitated only briefly, and then his words spilled out, "He said I was a bastard who didn't have a father, so I'd never apprentice in anything."

   Martha showed no surprise. She just sighed and ruffled the dark curls on his head.

   "Now, Lazarus, we have gone through this before. You know no one controls the circumstances of his birth.

   "I've told you before, that is Jehovah's job. Being born and dying are in His hands. We must take both our births and our deaths as the Lord gives."

   Lazarus was reticent to speak, but finally he blurted out, "That is not what made me cry."

   "What, then?" she questioned.

   Martha could see it was painful for him, but the truth began to emerge as he said, "Morticia said other things."

Page 219

   "Mmm hmm, go on," Martha prodded.

   "Well, he told everyone that I would grow up to be a nothing, for I have no father and no mother. I told him I did have a mother and that she was the best. Morticia laughed and said, 'Do you mean Martha is your mother?' Before I could say yes, he laughed at me again and said, 'Why, Martha's never ever been married. She's the midwife who brings other people's babies into the world, but she's never had one herself.' Then he started a chant with the other boys, singing, 'Mar-tha's no moth-er, Mar-tha's no moth-er.' "

   Lazarus looked up at her, his little face grave with the hurt of it all, and asked, "Is what he said true?"

   "Well, partly," Martha nodded her head. "I've borne no child of my own, that's true, but I once was married."

   He was cheered up by the news.

   "My marriage was some time ago — before Morticia was born. My husband was Benjamin. He was killed in an accident, along with my father, in Jerusalem. But, tell me, Lazarus. When Morticia said these things, did you just stand there and cry?"

   "No. First I hit him."

   "I see," she said, suppressing a smile, for she knew Morticia was several years older and two heads taller than Lazarus.

   "Did you hurt him with your blow?"

   Lazarus hung his head. "No, I think not too badly, because he just ran off down the street singing his silly song."  

   Martha hardly knew where to begin with him, but she stood up and called to Leah. She said, "Lazarus and I are going for a walk. We'll be back soon."

   Turning to him, she asked, "Where would you like to go?"

   "You know," he said, his face brightening considerably.

   "Oh, no. Not the tomb again," she groaned.

   "Oh, yes. Then you can tell me all over again about the day Jesus walked up to the tomb and said, 'Lazarus, come forth.' "

   "I don't see that I need to. You seem to know the story better than I."

   Martha walked in long, measured strides, and Lazarus took four steps to her two, but he kept up and firmly held her hand.

Page 220

   Because he loved her so, he copied everything about the way she walked, and he was careful to hold his head and shoulders up high like hers.

   Out of the courtyard and up the road they went.

   Before they reached the tomb, Lazarus asked, a little breathlessly, "Mistress Martha, are we in a race with somebody or is someone trying to catch us?"

   "Ah! Forgive me, my man," Martha said with laughing eyes. "I was deep in thought about Morticia." She slowed her pace.

   When they reached the tomb, Martha did not retell the story of Lazarus's resurrection as she had done many times before. Instead, she stood by the stone doorway and said, "My son, when you next see Morticia, there are two things you will tell him."

   Lazarus knew a command when he heard one, and his voice saluted her with his, "Yes, Mistress Martha."

   "First, you will apologize to Morticia for your anger and for hitting him."

   The child, wise beyond his years, guessed even before she said it that she would make him go back to say he was sorry.

   "I will," he answered, as if he were taking a solemn oath.

   "Second," Martha continued, her arms folded in front of her, "you will also tell Morticia and any other citizen of Bethany one more thing.

   "You will say in your loudest voice, and I know you have one, for I've heard you shout. You will say, 'My name is Lazarus.' Repeat this after me." She poked a finger into his shoulder.

   "My name is Lazarus. My mother is Martha. I am one of her prized olive branches. She is not only my mother; she is my father, my brother, my sister, and all my kinfolk. No one can take her away from me, for she is mine and she loves me!"

   When he had repeated it several times and achieved the right inflection in his voice, she asked, "Can you remember that all?"

   "Yes, my mother."

   His unexpected answer caught Martha completely off guard, and she blushed with ridiculous pleasure. How good the name mother sounded when he said it.

   There was nothing more to say, for the look of love that

Page 221

passed between them said it all.

   Slowly they walked down the hill toward home — each wrapped in a cloak of peaceful silence.

   As they reached the bend in the road, Lazarus suddenly stopped and said, "Mother, who are those men down by our gate?"

   Martha did not have to take a long look. One quick glance at the tall, reddish-haired man and the dark head of the other told her their names, but her voice failed her for joy.

   "Who, Mother? Who are they? Are you crying happy or sad tears?" Lazarus pulled on her tunic.

   Now she was shaking her head in disbelief, and the tears were flowing even harder.

   Finally she said, "These are happy tears, my son. The big man is Andrew, and the other...."

   "Is our Lazarus?" he shouted.

   "Yes!" she laughed. "Now you can stop bothering me and ask him to tell you firsthand about the day at the tomb!"

   He ran off ahead of her to greet them, and she watched as the little boy flung himself into the open arms of Lazarus.

   Andrew turned, and shading his eyes against the orange sun, looked up the road.

   "Greetings to you, my Martha!" he called heartily.

   Martha's smile was dazzling. She raised her hand, waved, and then just for a moment she stood straight and tall to gaze at the dear and precious people down the hill.

   Oh, Lord, she thought.  I still don't know why I came to love you so late, or why it took me so long to find you. Nevertheless, I did find you, and I do love you! My heart is overflowing with the wonder of your goodness!

   A song swirled and rang inside her. The familiar words of the psalmist filled her soul, and quietly, into the evening winds, she sang, "Praise the Lord all nations everywhere. Praise him, all the peoples of the earth. For he loves us very dearly, and his truth endures. Praise the Lord!"

   Then with her sandals gently slapping the dusty cobblestones, Martha hurried down the street to the outstretched arms of Lazarus and Andrew.

I Came To Love You Late — Main Page

online books christian books