Читать книгу LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter - Deborah Maragopoulos FNP - Страница 16

Under the dark cloak of night, my moonlight confidante is all I need to suckle my newborn back to sleep. A tiny fist opens to press my breast closer to her lips. She speaks silently, Ima, I am happy to be with you and Abba.

Sarah, you are my delight. Sighing with pleasure, I cannot imagine not spending these precious midnight moments with her.

There has been some turmoil these past two weeks when Joseph insisted that Sarah be wet-nursed. Despite his arguments that I am weak, depleted, and need to recover, I have stubbornly refused. He went as far as to have an intimate conversation with Yeshua about how nursing will interfere with our marriage bed. Laying Sarah down safely between cushions, I snuggle in closer to my husband.

“Is she asleep?”

He responds to my affirmative kiss by pressing the hardness of his body into the softness of mine. My heart beats rapidly for it has been so long. Hearing my thoughts, he whispers into my neck, “Yes, forty-seven very long days and nights.” I smile to myself. So he kept count.

Thirteen days after giving birth, my body is slow to respond. “Forgive me, Yeshua.”

“Hush, beloved, I expected this,” he produces a small vial of oil. “You didn’t think I would only get Abba’s opinion.” Thank goodness he talked to Miriam.

Suddenly, it occurs to me that I had better protect myself from conceiving. I sit up carefully so not to disturb the baby. Yeshua looks dubious, “Ima said that while you are nursing you probably cannot get pregnant.”

“I would feel better being sure.”

In quiet repose across from me, Yeshua watches as I weave white light around my womb. My next child will be a son born when Sarah is four years old. Expressing my gratitude, I bid Archangel Gavriel goodnight.

“Is everything all right, Mary?”

“We are safe from conceiving for another three years.”

“You have this all planned.”

I shrug, “Just following Divine advice.”

We begin making love again tentatively. Although it has been a blessing that my nipples have become insensitive to Sarah’s hungry mouth, I can hardly feel my husband’s caresses. Yeshua comes close to my cheek and kisses it softly. “Beloved, what is wrong?”

“It is not the same,” I whisper tearfully.

“Does it not feel as wonderful to you as it does to me?” I shake my head sadly. “We will find new ways to make love.” Drawing me into his chest, he kisses me tenderly. Milk begins to leak at his touch, which offends him not.

“Mmm. Sarah drinks the sweetest nectar of all.”

Smiling at his playfulness, I receive his offering and a distant stirring heats my loins. When his eagerness causes me discomfort, I ask him to lie back, using the oil on both of us. His face reflects pleasure and soon I reach a long-awaited release. Pulling me into his chest to stifle my cries, he whispers, “Let us not wake her. If it’s still too early we can find other ways of pleasuring each other.”

I apologize, feeling slightly guilty that he is still waiting. With the oil, our mutual caresses ignite a great need so he moves between my clenched thighs and soon joins me.

Lying in his arms afterwards his fingertips trace my profile stopping at the stone receded back into my navel. He kisses the tetrahedron. “And now that Sarah contains her own light, it reflects the purity of our sacred union.” The gift from Belshazzar has returned to our glorious hues of silver and purple.

In Magdala, Martha gave birth to a big healthy boy—Micah—and after forty days of the required respite, sent our mother to Nazareth. Ima arrived with an entourage of servants and gifts for her granddaughter, most distraught to discover that Yeshua shared my bedchambers.

“Mary! The Torah is quite clear. Eighty days after the birth of a girl child! Your husband will not be able to visit the sanctuary without the rites of purification!”

Knowing Yeshua would rather be with me, I changed the subject. “How are Martha and her son?”

“They are well. Her figure has nearly returned while Micah grows fat. ” She held Sarah up to the light to make her appraisal. “Your daughter is beautiful, but thank Adonai, does not have skin as dark as yours.” I smiled at the barbed compliment, well accustomed to my mother’s tongue. “Mary, why do you not have a wet nurse? You are of royal blood. It is unseemly to put this child to your breast.”

“Ima, I take much delight in nursing Sarah, and my husband is fully supportive.”

“Hmm! Well, you shall see how delighted he will be when your breasts lose their beauty for the benefit of his child.”

“I do not believe that nursing my baby shall harm my body!” Determined, I set my intentions to maintain my feminine wiles in all their glory. Captivated by her granddaughter’s gurgles, Ima ceased her lecture and thankfully returned to Cana just before dusk.

My memory is interrupted by Sarah stirring in my lap. Sensitive to her every need, my still lovely breasts become heavy with sweet milk. A natural extension of my being, when she needs to relieve herself, I have taken to holding her over a small pot or, if outside, over the ground, so changing my soiled daughter has become a rare chore. Growing ever so quickly, already five-and-a-half months, I hope she does not walk too soon.

I want to walk, Ima! I want to see the world.

“Well, my sweet baby, until you are a bit taller, your vantage point will be no farther than my arms.” Smiling a toothless grin, milk oozes around sweet lips.

The hayye of the olive grove shifts. She pulls away, milk streaming all over, and reaches for Teoma. “Wait, Sarah, you are making a mess.” Kissing her milky cheeks, Teoma tosses her over his head. She laughs delighted, he is her favorite. I warn, “Dod Teo risks a dousing with curdled milk if he is not careful.”

I struggle to disentangle myself from the hammock, when Teoma, with Sarah in one arm, helps me to the ground. “I believe you are lighter than you were before you became pregnant.” I shrug, unconcerned. “Mary, you must make more of an effort to eat richer foods.” He lifts Sarah over his head onto his shoulders. “This little pumpkin seems to be drinking away your fat. I will bring more meat and cheese to fatten you up.”

“If you alert Joseph to my condition, he will want to bring in a wet nurse.”

Teoma smiles down at me with Sarah clinging to his short tight curls, gurgling and biting the top of his head. “Certainly a good wet nurse would be eating richer meals.” Grimacing, he tries to lift Sarah off, but she kicks and holds on tightly.

“Wait, let me help you.” As he bends forward, Sarah spits up her lunch onto his head. I take his arm and lead him to the fountain, where I wet a nursing cloth.

Although I stand on the edge of the fountain to better extract my daughter and Teoma tries to lean close, Sarah pulls back in a game of keep away. “Hold still, little one.” I reach over his head and grab her arms, pulling them closer. Extracting her chubby fingers from his hair wet with sour milk is difficult, but finally I hand her squirming down.

Silently, Teoma takes the baby as I attend to the mess, but his breath down my cleavage causes heat to rise in my loins. I step back, nearly falling off the narrow ledge. Teoma catches me. We are much too close. The spit up milk will have to wait.

“Abba! Abba!”

Sarah calls happily to a shock-still Yeshua. I cannot move. At least Teoma has enough presence of mind to lift me off the fountain and hand Sarah to her father. No one has spoken.

I retreat into Teoma’s solid form away from Yeshua’s anger.

Sarah corrects me, No, Ima, it is fear. I want to explain, but hold my tongue. Teoma nods a sad farewell.

Late in the evening, Yeshua returns to our chambers with an unwelcome announcement. I whirl around from combing my hair. “But why? What is in Judaea that Teoma must leave before the holidays?”

“It is what’s not in Judaea.”

Before passion controls my tongue, Sarah wakes up crying. I nurse her back to sleep and turn to my husband, but he lies as far on his side of the bed as he can get. Unable to sleep, I rise to walk in the garden. My baby will not wake again till after dawn.

In the olive grove Archangel Gavriel attends my meditation in full sensory form. Wings of light spanning the width of the tree, white aura luminescent with a golden edge, a face so beautiful he could be a young woman. He speaks in my mind with a bell-like voice. Before the night is through you will be escorted by the morning star to a very dark place. Be assured, dear Mary, that this is part of the divine orchestration to assist all with a clearing of fearful energy. In his embrace, I am at peace. He tells me to spend the rest of the night outside.

Wondering if I will be missed, but trusting the angel’s guidance, I slip through the thick flap of my beloved’s tent and crawl onto the soft cushioned bed. So comfortable after my meditation, no more worried thoughts to interfere with my sleep, I begin to doze, only vaguely aware of being watched. Why did I not notice before?

“Mary, I was praying that I would be able to speak to you before I left.” Teoma whispers from the other side of cushions.

I nod, hardly able to breathe, “I came out to the garden to meditate and was guided to lie here.” This is unbelievable! The Divine plays with fire.

“The angel sent you here? What does it mean?” Perhaps he has not had many prayers answered or maybe not so quickly.

“You were praying to be able to speak to me, so now we have some private time to talk.” He smiles, piercing blue eyes soft with longing. What if I can’t control my passion?

“That is not all I prayed for.”

I call out silently and Gavriel arrives. Follow your heart.

Teoma’s ruggedly handsome face has a day’s growth of beard. Although incredibly attracted, I love Yeshua and will do nothing to jeopardize our marriage.

“Teoma, I love and desire you,” he catches his breath as I take a long deep one, “but my destiny lies with Yeshua. I love him but it pains me to see you without your heart’s desire.”

“I cannot imagine loving anyone else, Mary. Yeshua asked me to be your protector, but how can I if he sends me away?”

“Why do you feel you must spend your life in service to Yeshua?” His devotion is more than his desire to stay in my presence,

“Because, dear one, Yeshua is the mashiach—the one to free our people.”

“I only know him as a man. We are here to experience love, thus to redeem ourselves, not to save others.”

“Well, Mary, I am destined to serve him and his mission. Right now that includes serving you and Sarah.”

Suddenly I realize why we are here, “Teoma, you can continue to serve us from wherever you are. Let us meditate for a moment.”

“What shall I do?”

“Just follow my breath and be still.” In a pillar of white light, Archangel Gavriel shows me how to unite us with silver cords of connection. Teoma gasps when the gossamer light threads its way into his heart. “Just remember the love we share then imagine each other and we will feel one another’s presence.”

In awe, he reaches a tentative hand to touch the hayye between us. Palm to palm, I can feel his entire essence wash over me. Teoma is duly affected. I smile at him, “Try not to hold your breath when you interact with the energies.” He chuckles, then his eyes widen. Quickly he sits up.

Yeshua stands in the doorway.

Within the angel’s peaceful embrace, I am protected, but grief shadows Teoma. I touch his heart energy. Yeshua’s anger crashes against us like a wave. As if in a dream, I rise and embrace Teoma. This is farewell.

Passing by my husband, I am moved to say one thing, “I am sorry, Yeshua, but this will be a dark journey.” The morning star shines brightly above the tent, but at my core the elestial quartz is as cold as death. Shivering, I wonder where the Divine is taking us.