Mary Kassian
Flashback: His Father's Business
Jesus ran his fingers along the leg of the table. Satisfied, he flipped it over and began to smooth the top. His hands were deft. He had learned the craft well. Jesus had been mentored since the time he was knee-high by his father, Joseph – the man who had raised him as his own. Carpentry was his father’s business. Jesus smiled as...
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Peter winced. It was almost his turn. Mentally, he kicked himself for not having remembered to arrange for a basin of water at the door. Foot-washing was necessary in Palestine. The streets were dusty and people wore sandals without socks or stockings. It was a mark of honor for a host to provide a slave to wash a guest’s feet. And it was...
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She remembered him as a child. Like that time he tripped running up the rocky steps toward the market in Nazareth. And the time he burst into the house – little fingers cradling the body of a fallen bird – his dark lashes blinking back big tears. She remembered it all – the softness of his cheek, the curl of his hair, the way he tilted...
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