She was genuinely surprised to see the dog again. She stopped and reached out to welcome the animal and felt its affectionate lick. The dog sat down. She decided to do so as well when she saw in her periphery, the sandled feet of a man standing near her. The dog seemed to know him as it walked happily about him wagging its tail. "I see my dog has found you," he said. It was difficult to do so, but she raised herself enough to look at his face. She did not recognize him.

"I am Jesus, of Nazareth.” She stared at him blankly. She hadn't the slightest notion of who he was. "This is my dog, Abishag," he continued. "She has brought me to you."

"And why would your dog do such a thing?" she inquired, not knowing whether to be afraid or angry at this invasion of privacy. Only his eyes told her that she was safe, that he meant good, not evil.

"Because she knows me, and I think perhaps, she knows you as well."

"I am an old woman," she responded, reaching once again for the dog who responded eagerly. "Your dog has comforted me with her attention."

"She is good at that," said Jesus. "But you are not old, you are only forty-six. Today, isn’t it? Happy birthday, Juliana Hebaav." He spoke her name in soft, musical tones.

The woman was stunned. The look of shock and surprise contorted her streaked face. She wanted to anticipate something good of this, yet she resisted for fear that it would be yanked away, yet another disappointment, yet another rejection from God. I want no more of this! Waves of fear started in her stomach and she could feel nausea. She whimpered. The dog whined and nuzzled her hand sensing that the woman needed comfort, needed her.

"Do not fear, Juliana." He took her face in his hands and turned it so that she could see his. He kissed her forehead and then each of her eyes. Instantly, the dark shadows left her eyes and were replaced with smooth, radiant skin. The streaks were gone and her face cleansed. Lifting her face again he spoke, "Stand up straight, Juliana." Before she could respond with "I can't" on her lips, Jesus exerted an upward pressure on her head. Her back straightened without pain or discomfort. "For eighteen years," he said, "you have been bent over; destroyed by the forces of Satan who took your child, who took your husband, who took your life and left you destitute and alone. Oh, my dear, sweet sister Juliana, know that you are loved by the Son of Man, by God his Father and your Father. Arise, and be whole." And then he whispered in her ear, "Be whole."

The woman smiled when she realized what was happening. Sadness evaporated. Her heart leaped within her and she reached out to embrace Jesus. Before our eyes, this person had changed physically from a bent, offensive crone to a stately beauty, full of vitality. Abishag leaped and barked. "I know who you are!" she exclaimed. "You are the one come down from above," she said before Jesus could quiet her. "You are Messiah, the Chosen One of God!" And then she paused, her hand to her mouth and said quietly, "My son was slain that you might live." Once again, her heart was in her throat. And then it came pouring out. "After that terrible night, neither I nor my husband were the same. Over the following months we drew apart, he became critical and judgemental of me. And then the beatings began.”

Jesus stopped her, "You don't need to continue, all that is gone now.”

"But I must speak of this." Jesus was amazingly dense and times. Only then did he realize that this was a moment of terrible release for this woman. She needed desperately to let this all out.

"Speak then. Speak, and leave out nothing."

"I was only sixteen when it happened. My son, only 15 months. For twelve years he beat and abused me. He came home drunk almost every night and after beating me, he raped me. That is what it was, plain rape. He held no love for me. I would service him because if I didn't, the beatings became more intense. He blamed me for the death of his son. To this day, I have no idea why. The more he beat me, the more withdrawn and servile I became. I would do anything for him. I was deathly afraid to leave him, he would kill me, besides where would I go?" The words came in torrents. However, in a few moments the story was told. She sat on a low parapet facing him. Tears welling in her eyes, yet they were not tears of long suffering. They were tears of blessed relief.

Jesus spoke, "These years of your agony are indefensible. There are no words that can compensate for the pain you have endured. Yet in your heart, know that your son lives with your Father and my Father. He is about my age, yet he looks as if he were twenty. Soon, I shall see him and I will bring him your love. Now go my mother, God my Father shall provide your every need."

Juliana Hebaav became my wife. She died three months ago, the love of my life for twenty-seven years. I miss her. I miss her as much as I miss the Savior himself. But she is enjoying her son, now. Later perhaps, when I have finished this writing, I will join them as well.