Letters from Adina - #20

Letter XX. The Miracle of the Widow of Nain.

The Widow of Nain kneels before Jesus.

Dear Father,

It is many months since you have received a letter from me, written with my own hand; and I rejoice that I am so far recovered from sickness that I can write to you once again.

I cannot speak to you too much in praise of my uncle Amos and cousin Mary for their loving kindness during my sickness.

The pure air of the mountains of Galilee being  declared necessary for my health, they journeyed with me thither, and, at the foot of Mount Tabor, in the lovely village of Nain, I have passed many weeks, gaining strength each day.

We are now sojourning in the humble abode of Sarah, a widow, whose husband had perished in the Great Sea, on which he sailed in one of the merchant ships of Cesarea.

During the course of my recovery at the cottage, there entered hastily a fair young maid, whose name was Ruth. She held an open letter in her hand, and her beautiful face glowed with some secret joy.

We knew Ruth well, and loved her as if she had been our sister. She was an orphan, and dwelt with her uncle, Elihaz, the Levite, a man of power in the town. She was without guile, unsuspecting, and very simple in all her ways.

“What good news, bringest thou, dear Ruth?’’ asked Mary, smiling in reply to her bright smiles. ‘‘From whom is this letter?”

“For Sarah,’’ answered the pretty maid, blushing so timidly, that we half suspected the truth.

“But, that is not telling us from whom it comes,” persevered Mary, playfully. “You can guess,’’ she answered, glancing back at us over her white shoulder, as she bounded away into the house.

We quickly followed after her, and heard her cry as she put the letter into the dear widow’s hand -“From Samuel!”

“Blessed be God!’’ cried the widow, ‘‘my son liveth, and is well.”

“Read, dear Sarah,”’ cried the maiden. “He was at Alexandria when he wrote this, and will soon be at home. Oh, happy, happy day!’’ added the rejoicing girl, quite forgetful of our presence.

“Nay,” said the widow, ““my eyes are filled with tears of gladness; I cannot see to read. Do thou read it aloud.”

Ruth ended the reading of the letter, which told that he should return in the first ship bound to Sidon, or Cesarea, when he hoped to behold her and his mother face to face, and to receive as his bride, the maiden he had so long loved and cherished in his heart.

At length, as the day drew near for me to leave, to return to Jerusalem, my health being quite restored, we were all filled with delight and wonder at the appearance of the long absent son and lover in the midst of our happy circle.

But alas! my dear father, our joy was short-lived! Little did we think how speedily our rejoicings were to be turned into mourning!

The very night of his return, he was seized with a malignant fever, which he had brought from Africa with him; and we were all overwhelmed with grief.

Great was the anguish of the mother; and heartrending the distress of his betrothed, as they bent over his couch, and saw the fierce plague burning him, as if he were in a furnace.

Unable to recognise them, he raved wildly; and sometimes fancied himself suffering thirst on the burning sands of Africa; at others, battling with the barbarians for his life.

This morning, the third day after his return, he expired in much pain of body. His mother sits by him, the image of despair, holding his cold hand in hers, and uttering wails of woe sad enough to rend a Roman’s heart.

Alas! instead of a bridal, behold a funeral. Already the bearers are at the door; and in a few minutes he will be borne forth upon the bier to the burial place without the city.

I hear the heavy tread of the dead-bearers in the court below. The shrieks and wails of the mourning women fill my soul with sorrow. Ruth’s voice is hushed. She has been, for the last hour, motionless as marble, sitting with fixed eyes and rigid features. Only by her pulse can it be said she lives!

We hear now, dear father, the voice of the governor of the funeral, bidding us come down to bury the dead.

Farewell, my father. I know you will mourn for the memory of the noble youth, whose death has this day filled all Nain with mourning. As I look from the lattice, I see the concourse of people, filling all the street.

Now, may the God of our father Abraham preserve and keep you, and suffer us once more to meet face to face in joy and peace.

Your sorrowful daughter, Adina

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LADY DONNA PROGRAM

The new Lady Donna Immersion in Spirituality, Academics and Citizenship @ the "I AM" School will study abridged excerpts of the Letters from Adina taken from Reverend Ingraham's original edited version of 'The Prince of the House of David', published by Cassell & Co. Ltd (1903), that reveal remarkable insights into the Living Etheric Record left by Beloved Jesus's Ministry in the Holy Land.