by Nyla Ditson
Obediently, I put my arms around his waist and held on for dear life. Why couldn’t these awful beasts have seatbelt requirements?
Ahead of us, Sebastian’s laughter indicated my mind’s invasion.
Leading the camel, Jameson smacked his lips. “Mmm hmmm! I’m lookin’ forward to some good grub tonight. When Jesus comes to town, Chanah always cooks up somethang good.”
Scooting closer to Sam for fear of falling off, I watched as the sun set slowly behind the mounds of sand. With the steady up, down, up, down clunking of our camel taxi, I let myself get lost in the moment. As surreal, scorching and unknown as the next moments were, I had to admit this was amazing.
Eventually, the endless sand hinted of civilization. In the distance, I saw the outskirts of a city. As we neared it, the enormous palm trees drew me in. A large stone wall wrapped around the city, overflowing with greenery, multiple ancient looking steeples and a building with a yellow roof that reminded me of a science astrology building. Entering through a gate in the wall, I took in the crumbling white buildings and townspeople clad in neutral wraps and sandals. Some led goats by the leash, others mingled by tapestry or food stands closing up for the evening.
Below me, Jameson ushered out greeting after greeting of unfamiliar words. Smiling, the town’s people waved and repeated the foreign greeting back.
“Looks straight out of the Bible, doesn’t it?” Jameson smiled, seeing our baffled faces. “That’s because it is!” Not waiting for our response, he followed Sebastian’s lead and tied our camel’s leash around a tree outside a home. Isle descended gracefully from behind Sebastian, touching the mossy covered sidewalk with a ballerina’s dainty grace.
“Home sweet home,” she said in a singsong voice, gesturing to the house.
My home is a billion centuries behind us. I frowned. Or would it be forward?
I shook my head, but Jameson, probably reading my thoughts, didn’t take it as a refusal to be helped down. Lifting me from the camel, he set me down. He went to assist Sam but Sam just jumped off, landing on his feet, his stance a bit wobbly.
Sebastian’s honey-sweet voice filled my ear. “Our home is just inside, Celeste. Home is not just a physical place but a place of comfort and peace. This place is the Creator’s home; a home in every sense.”
With Isle’s hand looped around Sam’s forearm, Sebastian’s guiding hands on my shoulder and Jameson leading the way, I found myself mere moments from making an unexpected acquaintance. One of which I wasn’t sure whether to be ecstatic about or scared to death of. Either way, at least I’d finally found Him. But whether fulfilling the literal aspects of that conquest would be sufficient to finding happiness, I wasn’t positively sure.
Sebastian’s laugh mingled in the air as we stepped inside the cool and dimly lit house. “Ah, Celeste, time is about to tell,” he said to me.
It took my eyes a while to adjust. When they did, I found Him. Sitting at a table, identical to the one in the famous Last Supper painting, was Jesus. I quickly took in his long brown hair, white gown, blue sash and the sandals on his dirty feet.
He spread his arms open as he stood. The visible scars on his palms seemed to glow despite the lack of light in the room. I wanted to look away but couldn’t. It was like seeing a ghost, a mirage, or a fictional character, like Mickey Mouse, suddenly come to life.
When he spoke, it was calm and peaceful. Nothing at all like the booming voice that entered my thoughts occasionally or spoke to Sebastian in the hallway between life and death.
“Celeste,” Jesus said, his smile warmer than a thousand suns, more welcoming and comforting than a household of soothing mothers. “I am so glad you are here.”
And strangely, gazing into his warm brown eyes, crinkled at the corners with kindness, I knew he meant it.
Chapter 14
The feast spread before me on the stone table wasn’t mouth-watering. More like mouth flooding. Golden crisp fillets of fish surrounded by round juicy grapes filled the platter nearest me. The fish smelled divine, almost tempting me to disregard the vegetarian in me. Stacks of bright pink watermelon slices and deep dishes of wild rice lay further down the table. The scent of thyme and sage wafted towards me as Chanah set a plate of sautéed greens beside me. A huge loaf of bread acted as our centerpiece. Steam rose off the top of the braided pattern on the top. The sight of it made my stomach moan and my lips beg to break off a piece of flaky whole grain bread.
To distract myself, I picked up the wine goblet in front of me. The deepest colour of purple liquid swished as I did. When the beverage trickled down my throat, I recognized it as divine grape juice.
Jesus, sensing my hunger, smiled. He looked to my guardian angel and asked, “Shall we say grace? I do believe our friends are famished.”
After swallowing, Sebastian set down his goblet and nodded.
Reaching for the hands on either side of him, Chanah and Jameson, Jesus bowed his head. Sebastian took my hand. After shrugging, Sam took my other hand. Why Jesus was praying to himself was beyond me. But from his words, it sounded like he was speaking to a second party.
“Dear heavenly Father, thank You for bringing Celeste and Sam to Jerusalem safely. May Your will be done during our fellowship. And thank You,” Jesus let out a small chuckle, “for Chanah’s’ cooking. It would be tragic if we had to eat Jameson’s blackened lamb again.”
Sebastian released my hand and I looked up. I laughed alongside the others at Jameson’s red face.
“What? It’s not like they have timers in this decade,” he grumbled reaching for a slice of watermelon. “How’s a fella to remember he’s got food cookin?”
Chanah took the bowl of rice from Isle and scooped some on to her plate. “It’s called ‘stay in the kitchen until the meal is fully prepared’, Jameson.”
Jesus and all the angels laughed. The friendly camaraderie between the angels and Chanah continued as everyone filled their plates. But I noticed Jesus was quiet. Every time I snuck a look at him, he simply smiled. It was the kind of smile that a stranger may give you on the street, one you couldn’t help but return.
Sam and I remained silent throughout the meal, listening and eating for the half hour. The food was delicious, the conversation lively and entertaining, although sometimes it was confusing and over our heads. When Jameson pushed back his chair to pat his belly, my second helping of bread caught in my throat because of a giggle. His stomach was bulging so much he looked pregnant.
“Chanah,” he moaned, looking at her with a mock scowl. “Why do you have to be such a fine cook? I feel like I’ma gonna pop wide open.” He closed his eyes and moaned again.
Chanah’s dark eyes sparkled across her olive toned skin. She rose to clear the table. “Didn’t save room for dessert, did we, Jameson? Such a shame. I purchased some Sufganiyot buns from a vender this morning, just for you.”
Jameson’s eyes popped open. He took a deep breath, sucking in his cheeks. “I… yes, I think I still have some room to fill.”
Chanah’s laugh disappeared as she left for the kitchen. She emerged shortly, holding a plate of scrumptious looking sugar dusted pastry buns. “Typically these are served during Hanukkah,” she explained to Sam and me, setting the plate on the table. “But I convinced my vender friend to bake them for my special visitors.”
Sebastian reached for one, as did Isle and Jameson. Their expressions were pure joy as they bit into the pastries, their eyes rolling back with pleasure.
Jesus laughed, speaking up for the first time since dinner began. “Angels love dessert,” he said, reaching for a Sufganiyot bun. “Especially these raspberry jam-filled little guys. Go ahead, try one,” he urged us, his eyes twinkling with kindness. “I promise they’re tastier than Twinkies.”
Sam snickered and reached for a bun. “They must be pretty good then,” he said. I watched Sam bite into his de
ssert. I smirked at the look of surprise he flashed me. “These are so…”
“Amazing?” Jameson supplied.
Sebastian shook his head. “Heavenly suits Sufganiyot better.”
“How about amazingly heavenly?” Isle offered, licking her sugar and cinnamon covered fingers.
“All of the above,” Sam smiled, appearing more at ease then he had all night.
“Celeste, you don’t know what you’re missing.” Jesus said gently, sliding the plate towards me.
“No, thank you.” For some reason I was afraid to try the new dessert. Tonight had been a flood of new experiences. Having some sort of control over choosing to experience another new thing made me refuse dessert.
“What about Sam-I-am?” Jesus said, folding his arms on the table, giving me an open smile. “What if Sufganiyot is even better than green eggs and ham? What if you never give it a chance and it would’ve been the best thing you’ve ever tried?”
It surprised me that he knew my history. But then again, why shouldn’t he? He was God’s son. I studied his face. It was innocent, pure, and free of wrinkles or laugh lines. But somehow I knew this man laughed often and possessed the wisdom that wrinkles showcase. His eyes never wavered from my gaze, allowing me to observe freely. Tilting his head to the side, Jesus appeared to study me. But our evaluations were different somehow, as if he already knew everything about his subject and I knew nothing about mine.
The others chatted distantly around us, praising the dessert. But for the moment it seemed as if only Jesus and I were present. Jesus reminded me of someone. It took me a while to put my finger on who but when I did, it made perfect sense.
He reminded me of my dad.
Patient, loving, gentle and wise.
“You know, I think I will try one,” I decided, reaching for the last bun. The conversation halted around me, an air of anticipation for my reaction. Biting into the flaky crust, a rush of fruit preserves filled my mouth. Accented with sugar dusting and a hint of cinnamon, the combination was truly a delicacy. “Soooo good,” I mumbled, downing the dessert in three bites.
Sebastian nudged me in the ribs. “See, it’s good to try new things. You never know what wonders you could be missing if you don’t.”
I got the feeling that his words held a deeper meaning, beyond the concept of Sufganiyot. I let it go, listening to Chanah as she returned from the kitchen with a pitcher of grape juice to replenish our half empty goblets.
“Do you mind if I share something with you two?” she asked Sam and me, smoothing the beige wrap covering the top of her head.
We nodded.
Locking eyes with Jesus, Chanah smiled fondly. “I want to tell you about how Jesus and I met,” she said.
Turning towards me, she quieted the words of my opened lips. “I know Sebastian has told you a little about how we met, but I want to tell you why and what it’s like to have Jesus as a friend.”
Jesus’ eyes, the crinkles in the corners now familiar, gazed at Chanah like she was His pride and joy.
Like she was a daughter.
Chanah’s voice was dreamy, excited and joyous as she spoke.
“One Saturday, after my baby died, I decided to go buy some fruit from a street vendor. It was a beautiful day out, no rain, no wind, and a lovely gentle breeze. It was a great day to pull my cart to the bazaar. Or so I thought, until I found the mud on my way home.”
Chanah’s face broke into a smile, echoed by those around the table, making me suspect the angels had heard this story numerous times.
“Mud, what a lovely thing, isn’t it?” Chanah shook her head but continued smiling. “Especially when it coats the tires of your cart and strands you on a back road. I tried pushing, tugging, shoving, and every other kind of moving there is. But the wheels were so full of straw and thick mud that it was useless. I felt frustrated, tired and a little scared. No one knew where I was and there was a group of rowdy men nearby whom I suspected were in a drunken state.”
I held my breath, waiting for her to say something awful, like one of the men had attacked her. What she said next surprised me.
“Finally, I just decided it was too hard. I wasn’t making any progress dragging my cart. So I hauled it to a bush and threw it down. Immediately my arms felt lighter. And despite my runny nose, stinging eyes, my dishevelled hair—”
Jameson cut in, “Man, you guys should’ve seen it, Chanah’s hair, no lie, looked identical to Albert Einstein’s.”
Chanah and Isle giggled. Sebastian shot Jameson a cold look for interrupting. Jesus watched the exchange with an amused look on his face and then nodded to Chanah to continue.
“But despite all that discomfort, I felt content. Now I could walk home without difficulty and I knew I would soon be out of the scary situation. The same feeling of peace enveloped me two days later. When I realized I needed Him, needed something or someone to take the heavy “cart” of sorrow from my life.
“Thinking back to those years after I lost the baby and was contemplating taking my own life, I picture a big grey cloud hanging over my head. I wasn’t happy. My days were full of bleak and depressing thoughts but I desperately craved to be happy again.”
Sebastian and Chanah shared an intimate look and she continued.
“So when Sebastian told me God could satisfy that craving, I decided to try something new. What I’d been doing on my own wasn’t working, so I thought ‘Why not give God a chance?’ I decided to ask God to help me find my way out of the bleakness. And you know what? It was the best decision I’ve ever made. Instantly, like when I discarded my heavy cart, I felt peace. It was like someone was cradling me in their arms, telling me it was all going to be okay.
“I found my best friend that day,” Chanah went on, reaching across the table for Jesus’ hand. “Someone who I can love and trust wholeheartedly because I know He won’t ever disappoint me. I still have hardships, but Jesus helps me through them, teaching and strengthening me along the way. His persistent friendship makes me smile, even on horrible days.”
Chanah looked at me, and I held my breath, reading in her eyes the truth she spoke. I wanted to believe it, knowing it was true. But I still held back from fully accepting such possibilities.
“And the most amazing thing happened the other day,” she said. “I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be so low and lost. I had to reach for an old journal to read what life used to feel like for me. I never thought I’d forget, but Jesus has allowed me to move on. I’m at a very joyful place in my life now. And it’s all because my best friend, Jesus has given me the best gifts of all.”
Isle said quietly, “The gift of a light load and a new life.”
Chanah nodded as Jameson added, “Behold, anyone who is in Christ is made new. The old life is gone and a new one has begun.”
“2 Corinthians 5:17,” Sebastian told me, squeezing my shoulder as he stood.
Quietly, all three angels tip—toed out of the room, leaving Sam and me alone with Jesus and Chanah. We faced them across the table and Sam shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.
“He can do that for you too, Sam, and Celeste,” Chanah explained, her face a mixture of joy and pain.
Joy over what she had tasted through God? Pain for us because we hadn’t tried what brought her such joy?
“I can never have too many friends,” Jesus said, spreading his arms open as if to emphasize how many he could embrace at once.
Sam’s face remained expressionless. I didn’t know what he was thinking. But my feet knew what to do even with my mind in a cloud of fog. They carried me to the other side of the table, standing beside Jesus.
“Celeste?” he asked, taking my hand and standing. “What can I do for you, child?”
His voice was so compassionate, his face so willing, so eager to help. My heart squirmed in my c
hest, fighting to be free, to feel the kind of life Chanah had just explained.
“Jesus,” I whispered, trembling at the thought of being free of my burdensome life. Images of my lowest times came flooding back to me. The corner of my eyes prickled with tears, my chest aching from the painful memories of many dark nights. “Can you help me find true peace?”
He nodded, and I flung myself into his chest, sobbing. He stroked my hair, smelling of hope and renewal. “Yes, dear one, I can certainly help. I am the way, Celeste. No one gets to the new life except through me.”
I hugged him harder, pressing my streaming face into his fatherly embrace, the need for a father’s touch overwhelming me.
“Come to me, you who are weary and burdened.” Jesus tilted my chin towards him. I looked up, meeting his tender kind eyes. “And I promise I will give you rest, Celeste. I will give you hope for the future. I will give you a life overflowing with joy. All you have to do is request this gift.”
I hesitated.
Then time travelling took over the reins.
I was pulled back. Though it felt like it was sucking me backwards, time was pushing me forward to the future. A tunnel of grey, white and red streaks slurred by. A hand clasped mine. Peeking through my shut eyes, I glimpsed tanned skin. Knowing Sam was with me eased my fears.
Slightly.
Within seconds, I heard an “Ooff”. I wasn’t sure if it was Sam or me. Tasting the bitterness of grass, I rolled over.
I blinked as the bright orange setting sun bore into my eyes. Quickly clamping my eyelids down, I eased my surprisingly not sore body against the ground.
As I contemplated our journey to Jerusalem, Jesus’ words rang in my mind as I lay quietly in the park behind my apartment.
Come to me . . . I will give you rest
Could God really be the answer? The elation and delight in Chanah’s eyes while she spoke of Jesus couldn’t be false… could it? But even if it was, I could give it a shot, I suppose. Like she said, why not? It’s not like it would hurt me anymore then what I was doing now.