Held by the Messiah
by Catherine Valentine
The morning sun was rising and already burning hot on the head of Abigail as she walked to the well to draw up water. The other girls and women were there laughing and speaking of the wedding that was to take place that evening. Abigail rather dreaded this joyous event; she was at the age where girls typically got betrothed, but no man has asked for her hand. She knew she was a hard worker and devoted to God, but no man could look past her deformed face.
Her mother had told her that when she was born the midwife screamed in shock at Abigail’s face. She had been seen as less than desirable since that day. Therefore she hated weddings. They only served as a reminder that she was seen as less than the other girls. A diamond too rough to be prized.
As Abigail took her turn at the well, her friend, Sarah, came up behind her and gave her a hug. “Are you coming to the wedding tonight?” she asked excitedly. Sarah was a petite, excitable little creature and loved by everyone because she loved everyone.
“No, not if I can help it,” Abigail said with a shake of her head.
“Oh you must come! It’s going to be so beautiful and fun.”
Abigail gathered her jars, and with a small, crooked smile to her friend, she mumbled a “we’ll see” and took the path back into the village. Walking into her house she placed the water jugs on the floor. Sighing, she slid onto a low stool that was up against the wall. “Mother?”
“Yes?” she said without looking up from the bread she was kneading.
“Must I go to the wedding tonight?” Abigail looked down at her feet.
“Yes, everyone is going. It wouldn’t be proper for you to stay behind,” her mother answered, still not looking up.
A single tear slid down Abigail’s face. Another wedding to remind her what was always denied her because of her face.
Suddenly, a gentle hand cupped her chin, and she was forced to look into her mother’s eyes. “Why do you cry, child?”
Abigail took a deep breath. “I’m so ugly, Mother. No man wants an ugly wife.”
Her mother went to her knees and faced Abigail, still clutching Abigail’s chin. “Do you remember the story of when I brought you to the Messiah?”
“Yes, Mother. You have told me.” Abigail tried to look away, but her mother’s grip was firm.
“I think you need to hear it again. I brought you to the Messiah for Him to heal your face. He took you into His arms and kissed your forehead; His touch was so tender and there was true delight in His face. I asked him to make you beautiful and He looked at me gravely—I will never forget that—and He said, ‘But she is already beautiful.’ And He blessed you and gave you back to me. My heart changed that day and I knew you as beautiful. You need to let this story sit in your heart, Abigail. Know that you are blessed by the Messiah Himself and He saw you as beautiful. Who cares that these boys around here aren’t bright enough to know your worth?” Her mother smiled and Abigail smiled back. Abigail’s mother kissed her on the forehead and went back to making bread.
Abigail sat there for a little longer, though there were more chores to be done. She was kissed and blessed by the Messiah Himself; how many girls can say the same? As Abigail got up to continue her chores, she stood a little taller and brushed her tears away. The story was blooming in her heart at last.
That evening Abigail was determined to enjoy a wedding for the first time. She danced until her feet got tired and she laughed until her sides hurt. As the drinks were being passed around Abigail was found by her friend Sarah. “You’ve changed, my friend, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have so much fun.”
Abigail gave her a big, crooked smile, “I have the blessing of the Messiah on me. How can I not have joy?”
Sarah embraced her friend, and they spent the rest of the evening together enjoying each other’s company and delighting in the occasion. She was held by the Messiah and He had called her beautiful. Did other people’s opinions really matter after all?
About the Author
Catherine was homeschooled until college, and she graduated from Berea College in Kentucky with a degree in English. Her poetry has been published in a magazine and newspaper, and her short story “Margret” was included in Seasons of the Four States anthology. She has also self-published her own books.
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