Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Christmas Carols/Carolling (10/02/08)
-
TITLE: A Christmas in Israel | Previous Challenge Entry
By Karuna Barla
10/09/08 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Our quiet shadows followed his, towards our destination, Miriam’s house. The silent night was only interrupted by an occasional blast in the distance, giving an idea of how deep the vigilante had reached. Miriam’s was the only place the guards wouldn’t search .
I had never met the woman, but had heard from Abiram of her dedication to be a blessing to anyone who stepped at her door. She had created quite an impression on the enemy vigilante, when she had voluntarily given shelter and care for one of their injured men, in spite of being an Israelite. In exchange for her kindness, they had spared her life and her little home at the border. All others had either been killed or had managed to escape to the interiors.
As we neared the place we found no one residing in the area. It had become difficult to camouflage our moving shadows, in the steady light across the border, casting blocky shadows from the ruined houses. The last few yards, required us to propel ourselves on our elbows to make use of the low-lying shadows. By now I was regretting my occupation as a mission journalist. This ordeal was definitely not what I had in mind for my report on ‘ A Christmas in Israel’.
Abiram knocked on the worn out wooden door of an old mud house. A frail figure silhouetted against the low wattage lamp opened the door welcoming us in.
She inquired Abiram, of our journey in Hebrew and then turned towards me as Abiram introduced me. “Merry Christmas Jonathan”, she said in a very American accent , with her weak but warm voice. Her wrinkles made little curves, as she smiled at the look of surprise on my dusty face. “This must be quite an unconventional approach to caroling compared to home, isn‘t it?”
“Yes it is”, I replied wiping off the dust and the quizzical expression from my face. Later, her mystery unfolded as I learnt that she had been a missionary to Israel since 1960 when she’d married Elijah her Israeli husband 45 years ago. He had passed away. Every year, on the eve of Christmas, the local believers gathered at her place for caroling. It being a safe haven from the ritualistic Jews and the incumbent rulers.
A few more people arrived and soon the conversations hummed in the tiny square footage. Once the foreknown number of people were established, we gathered on the mud floor and Miriam led the group in worship through carols. Her gentle voice filled the room, as warmth filled my heart. I had never worshipped singing carols, they were just fun songs to me but as the gathering joined together in chorus and sang “Joy to the world, the Lord is come” in Hebrew, my heart lifted up in this live worship and I got immersed in the depths of praise. Though our voices never rose beyond soft whispering, our praises went way beyond, where our Living God sat, enjoying the aroma.
Thud thud thud.
The banging on the door jolted us and we quieted down instantly and huddled in one corner. Miriam signed us to calm down and went towards the door. It rattled impatiently at the delay. We waited with bated breath at what awaited us behind it. Before Miriam could reach the latch, the door came crashing onto her. She fell to the ground and two armed men rushed in.
One of them picked her up. Her bruised forehead bled slowly. The other man, aimed his gun toward Miriam and swung it intermittently at us.
“You’re the one , the cause for everything.”, he said. “We can’t advance beyond these ruins. We’ve been fooling the Israelites with bomb blasts, but we can’t go in.”.
Miriam smiled recognizing the man and said, “ I knew you’d come, this home, I give you as a blessing .”
No more words exchanged. Shots were fired and voices silenced. Only I survived, being an American journalist, just taken a prisoner.
****
Years since my release and return to America, I still go back to that ‘border home’ for caroling. I don’t crawl on the ground to reach there, I walk bravely. The keeper of the home, carols with us now and tears flow down his cheeks as he leads “Joy to the world, the Lord is come” and remembers the night.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
Some of the details puzzle me, however. Are these Palastineans? If so, would they really have left an American alive? Would they refer to Miriam as an Israelite or an Israeli?
None of these details, though, take away from the atmosphere of this story.
firstly, congratuations on third place win - for me you should have been first. Your title would have caught my eye - I love stories about Israel - Truly amazing story I have many Israeli friends they have been through many difficult times - There was great strength of conviction in your story and characters. You kept my interest to the end. Sad ending though but well written. I'm happy I stopped by and look forward to reading more of your works. Thank you.