13 December 2024
Happy St Lucy’s Day!
St Lucy, or Santa Lucia, was martyred in Sicily in the late third Century for refusing to offer a sacrifice to the Roman Emperor. Her feast-day is of particular significance in Scandinavian and other Nordic countries, where girls and women wear a crown of candles on their heads. There may be a connection between her name which is derived from the Latin for light, and celebrating light in midwinter. If you are homesick this 13 December, focussing on exams rather than St Lucy’s Day celebrations, I hope you will nevertheless still feel something of the day’s light today.
Feathers
Part 13
The story so far: While Joe gets their cottage ready in Kingsbarns, Maryam takes a journey into the hill-country of Perthshire to visit her academic sister.
The cab from the bus stop in Blair Atholl brought Maryam to the manse, a modern house cheek by jowl with three others on a tight parcel of land at the edge of the village. Tall trees loomed around; Maryam heard birdsong as she waited. Lizzie opened the door, an undeniably pregnant Lizzie – the guy had been right about this too – her green dress stretched over a tummy which had been barely there at Raisin.
“Lizzie! It’s true!”
“Oh Maryam –” then Lizzie immediately put her hand to her belly. “What a kick, little one!”
The women hugged right there on the doorstep.
Over coffee, Lizzie looked straight at Maryam and said, “I’m not quite sure how I know this. It must be because I’m pregnant and I can see the signs, but it’s you too, isn’t it? You’re expecting, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” It was a huge relief to Maryam that Lizzie had guessed – she’d find it easier to tell the story now. But it was Lizzie who went on, her arm across the back of the sofa.
“God! What a family we are. First-year sisters – and mothers-to-be!” She laughed, and Maryam got the giggles too.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I went to University because I didn’t have children and now look at me. Enormous! I want to come back to St Andrews but I’ll be taking a leave of absence for a semester, maybe a year. But look at you – you look wonderful. How long?”
“Six, seven weeks – I can’t be sure.”
Lizzie sipped her coffee and smiled at Maryam. “You know, my baby’s never kicked as hard as when I saw you. It felt like a somersault in there. He seemed to know.”
“Know I’m pregnant?”
“Yes – no – something more.” Lizzie put her hand on Maryam’s arm. “Look, please don’t think I’m this crazy old lady but I just want to say you are truly blessed to be expecting this child, of all the things that could happen to a young woman in St Andrews. And when your baby comes, he’s going to be so loved. Even in this mad world.”
Maryam was reminded of aunts and uncles who’d offer predictions for her future, embarrassing her with affection. But she felt comfortable in what Lizzie, her sister, said. Lizzie continued, “What I can’t get my head around is how this all happened to me, that the mother of my Lord should be right here in my living-room, on this sofa on a Tuesday afternoon, drinking instant coffee – sorry – with me.”
“My Lord?”
“Oh, yes. He’s in charge.”
“I’m beginning to realise that.” Maryam laid out how stuff was changing in her body, being sick and how going to the bathroom was all messed up. “It’s pretty scary – I was hoping you’d tell me more.”
“I will Maryam, though half of what I know I got from ante-natal classes. You should go. But that’s not what I mean. It’s that he’s the man, that tiny thing you’re carrying, the size of your finger-nail. You think you’re looking after him but really he’s leading you – and not just you. We all belong to him, we’re all part of his life. Me, Zach, my unborn, everyone in Blair Atholl, every student in St Andrews, everyone in the world. All the rubbish, all the hatred, all the division – it’s over. He’ll bring us together, if we let him.”
“But he’s just one baby, I’m just one student, I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”
Lizzie heard the catch in Maryam’s voice, and moved right over and put her arms around her, “It’ll be okay. It’s just, these are the only words that seem right.”
Visitation, exterior of the Cattedrale di San Lorenzo, Genoa
Yours,
Donald.
Revd Dr Donald MacEwan
Chaplain