I tripped along behind Horatio and Helina until we came to a crossroad just outside the gate we'd exited. There we paused in the shadow of the city's towering wall, as several people got up from a wooden bench poised by the side of the road. Helina sat down and I plopped next to her; Horatio 'stood guard'.

Interesting! I noted those who'd just gotten up, glared at me as they scuttled over to stand near another group of people who were also just... standing around? It didn't take the remainder of my Freshman year in college, for the rocket scientist in me to realize this was the first century version of a bus stop; as I observed several carts and a chariot stop to both pick up and drop off passengers.

We hadn't been 'trading' at 'wall street' long when a cart with a couple of soldiers perched atop rolled up. I figured they recognized Horatio and were offering him a ride back into the city. He stopped to converse a bit; of which they soon rolled off again. This was a reoccurring theme; (going in both directions) before I realized it wasn't Horatio they recognized as much as his uniform rank. These carts were laden with soldiers and they'd salute him before they drove off again. I guess it was customary to stop and offer military men of higher status a ride, if you just happened to see them waiting at a 'bus stop'.

I concluded this wooden bench we'd 'stolen' was of similar 'privilege', for I noticed an abundance of glares from passerby's. Also, no one came to sit with us, despite there being plenty of room. Obviously, rank and class have their perks and who was I to be filling this space when we were evidently from two very different social groups; a rather wealthy Roman soldier family and me, dressed as a Jew. I tried to contain myself, as I thought about turning around and asking Helina for some bacon.

I sat engaged with a group of children who'd been playing a game that looked to be some version of hop scotch, as in pairs or threes; they'd throw pebbles and jump through spaces drawn in the dust on the ground. It seemed the object of the contest was who could navigate their maze the fastest. I clapped for a little girl who grinned proudly of her newly revealed superpower to out-skip an older boy (probably her brother) when I was tapped on the shoulder. I turned around.

"Oh, Jesus. It's You. Err... Hi!" I stared at Him rather dumb struck, wondering where He'd come from and how I'd missed His arrival. 'Behold He comes as a thief in the ... late afternoon.' I chuckled in pleased recognition. Poor thing, You look awfully tired. I smiled thoughtfully.

"Sh' lam lek." He replied as I still sat a moment before His words registered.

"Salam alaikum to You too." I started to giggle.

"Hal tata'hadath ale'arabia?" Helina suddenly turned; surprised that apparently I said something she understood.

"La." I laughed. She flashed me a puzzled expression.

[It's a long story.] Jesus replied to Helina.

"Oh...?" Was her response.

"Hey, I understood that!" I laughed as I pointed to her. Both she and Jesus giggled a bit.

Come. He motioned as He pointed to a cart behind Him.

"Thank you." I said as I turned to Helina and held my arms out.

"Ealaa alrahb." She lit up, as she returned my hug. Universal chick language. I snickered to myself as I got up and headed to where Jesus had indicated.

"Shukrann." I bowed to Horatio; making an assumption that if Helina understood Arabic, so did he.

"Ealaa alrahb." He nodded with a smile as I popped him an American military salute followed by a Roman one. He returned the gestures.

"Udkhul 'alearaba." Jesus raised His voice in a quasi amused tone as He pointed to the cart.

"Elohim Akbar!" I replied with the first thing that came to mind.

"Ati-...Elohim warasula " Jesus retorted.

"Oh, You're funny!" I smirked as He pointed behind me. "Obey God and His messenger. Yeshua ha Mashiach; now get in the cart" I giggled as He shooed me along with a couple of little, yet a bit less than subtle nudges. "OK, OK. Don't get pushy... Iesus Christus!" I fluttered in a bit of rebellious humor as I grinned at Him and scurried off.

Suddenly, I realized I was the 'main course' of all these 'eagle eyes' fixed upon me. "What?" I haplessly shrugged with a nervous snicker as I surveyed the human landscape and then fixed my attention upon Jesus. He pointed at the cart with the indication that I should get in; NOW. "OK." I squeaked suddenly deciding it would be prudent to just do what He says before I either start a riot, make God really annoyed; or both!

So I jumped up as He let out a sigh, shuffled passed us and fell into the cart behind mine. He slumped nearly prone into a pile of straw and pulled His Tallit up over His head; while several perturbed and confused disciples glanced at Him, me, and then at each other. Several began to speak all at once when Jesus yelled something and one waved his hands at the rest in a gesture of: 'Cut it guys; just leave Him alone'.

Wow, did He just tell them to shut up? I marveled as I glanced around the few faces in my cart; apparently bearing an expression of shock. There was one woman and two other men, besides the driver.

[The Lord is tired and they do that to him all the time.] The woman patted my arm as she spoke. The driver began to chuckle as he and the fellows across from me shot subdued comments at each other.

[Yes, we rabble rousing, hapless and disobedient... disciples.]

[Don't pester the Lord when he's cranky.]

[You know we're the ones who make him cranky; don't ya?]

[All the time.]

[Stop making him cranky.]

[Hey, it wasn't me this time.]

[Not like you haven't said your fair share of stupid things to him.]

[Like Master, what do we do with all this extra bread?]

[Eat it! I thought for sure that's he was going to say to you.]

[Then that time you were chasing me around with a bucket of water.]

[You really deserved that.]

[Yeah, except I wasn't the one you got!]

[Well... he didn't yell at me;... even if he was pretty soggy.]

[I would have yelled at you!]

[You would have kicked me into next week.]

'Holy holy is the Lord whom one in three we know...' A Craig Smith song began to play in my head; 'by all Thy heavenly host adored, by all Thy... obnoxious ... church below.'

We bumped and bounced along the road passed the city as I sat considering this garden we'd just come upon and my friends the rocks who were still there, as it seemed; waiting? Ironic how I'd been hiding in the 'cleft of the rock' when I was rescued by the 'chief cornerstone'. Yes, 'God is able, of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham'; even if admittedly so, some of us 'children' still have a bit of gravel between our ears!

"Jon". The driver called as he briefly turned, jutting his finger at something. The young man responded by retrieving an object from the floor and handing it to the driver. John? So that's who you are. I took mental notes as I started to wonder who the other three were. Evidently our chauffeur was another disciple and maybe this woman was Martha's sister? Both she and John attempted to strike up a conversation with me, but of course I couldn't understand a flipping thing they said. Finally, they just looked at each other and shrugged.

The discussion meandered along without me, while I became occupied with watching the scenery fade. As I listened, I figured out we were headed to Bethany and the driver's name was Philip. I tried to imagine what was going to happen next, if it wasn't something I'd already read about centuries later. I guess I am going to be a witness to history. I let out an indecisive sigh, as although I knew where we were on the calendar, I found I was beginning to loath what was coming. What was I about to see? I pondered as the thought of a crucifixion suddenly flashed through my mind. The very idea scared me and I laid down in the cart, in an attempt to corral it back into the recesses of my subconscious.

About 10 minutes had ticked by when I sat up to us pulling through a circular path in front of someone's house. Several people ran out to assist as Philip and John jumped down to greet them. Two men and three women hurried over, helping John pull the gate down and scooping supplies out of the cart. This other woman passenger (whose name I still didn't know) was up and out before I even turned around. They yanked the straw bundles, as well as two boxes (one of which I just realized Philip had been sitting on) off the 'tailgate'; while I crawled to the end.

The cart behind us was engaged in the same 'docking procedures'; as I noticed Jesus was out and just sitting in the yard, with a few folks standing by delivering food and water to His aid. I crept over to see 'what were the goings on'?

Jesus held His arms up, as two fellows pulled Him to His feet. He shook the one and patted his face in a gesture of thanks, as He wrapped one arm around the other's shoulder and slapped him on the back. He'd turned to the rest of us folks, noting my standing there amongst the gathering.

[Who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame and is set down at right hand of the throne of God.] Jesus spoke as He walked up to me; let out a chuckle and in jest, pulled the loose end of my scarf down over my face.

"HEY!" I playfully protested, as I flustered at Him and pulled my scarf back.

[Three days and three nights left Father and I can barely stand now.] He muttered as He staggered a few steps across the yard while someone offered their aid. Jesus stood a minute to get His bearings, before He'd determined... I am... going into that house.

My fellow female traveling companion scurried over and eagerly whisked me inside. She explained all the lovely details of tonight's feast as we passed several rooms where people were moving furniture and cooking food. I paused at one doorway, where several disciples stood in a semicircle staring down at the floor, whispering in hushed deliberation.

On a cushion in the corner before us all, lay Jesus.

[Is he OK?]

[I think he's asleep?]

[Should we wake him?]

[I wouldn't!]

One squatted down for a closer look and then stood back up.

[He's out cold!]

[Unconscious?]

[Drooling unconscious.]

There was a moment of silence.

[We should make sure he's OK.]

[If he's breathing, he's OK.]

Another leaned over for a second opinion.

[Yeah.] He confirmed as he stood up [He's OK.]

The other fellow smirked as he gestured an escort to the remainder toward the door.

They filed passed us as I turned to the woman who'd brought me into the house. She only shrugged as the last disciple exited the room and quietly closed the door.

From there, she took me to the kitchen, in which she pointed to a small hut that sat several yards from the back door. I wasn't exactly sure what it was, but after witnessing the very public toilet house in Jerusalem, I found myself praying it was a 'proper' out house; and one that wasn't a 6 seater.

She escorted me back inside, while pausing a minute to retrieve a piece of fruit. I followed her as we passed through a narrow hallway into one of the side rooms, where she poured some water into a clay basin. She chattered on, telling me things; (of which I had no idea what) while she busied herself with something on the other side of the room. I washed my hands.

She'd wandered off to some place I wasn't paying attention to, while I splashed some cold water on my face. She came and tapped me on the arm to show me she'd made up a sleeping mat for me to rest on. She must have figured I was tired after having laid down in the cart and maybe she was right? I thought to myself as recollections of Jesus piled in a heap on the floor 'rested' upon my mind. He looked like a load of laundry waiting for the washing machine; pick it up and the arms and legs dangle lifelessly. Well, I suppose we are a 'tiresome' bunch. I concluded as I let out a bit of a chuckle, followed by a sigh; dried my hands and face and walked across the room to my bed.

Next to the sleeping mat; she'd brought over a small stool with a selection of changes of clothes. I looked down at the stool and than up at her. She smiled warmly as she held one of two dresses up to my shoulder and then the other in a gesture of the decisions offered.

I looked at the two dresses in a bit of perplexed astonishment. They were both very lovely and made of beautifully woven linen with silk trim and silk scarves. One was green and cream with little woven leaves and the other was almost a maroon red with gold thread sewn into little geometric shapes. The green dress was a traditional kaftan while the red one looked more like a Roman version of a Sari.

How lovely they are! I smiled and cried a few tears of gratitude. And how generous you are. I sniffled a bit. She smiled and dabbed my face with a napkin.

"Thanks." I cried a bit more as she reached out and gave me a sisterly hug, before she got up and brought over another picture of water, what looked to be a little towel and a clean basin.

She paused on her way out of the room and stood next to the first basin wearing a vaguely confused expression. We stared at each other a minute or two before she pointed to the floor and I realized what was wrong.

"Oh yeah." I laughed with a hint of embarrassment. "I forgot to wash my feet."

She smiled at my little social misdemeanor, as I think she realized I wasn't from the neighborhood. Oh how she had absolutely no idea. I thought to myself as I finished cleaning up.

"Thank you." I said in a hardly audible whisper. She only smiled as she picked up the basin and left the room. The curtain swished behind her and I let out a sigh of relief. "It's so freaking hot here, I can hardly breathe!" I sputtered to myself as I striped to down to my first century underwear and collapsed on the mat.

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