God’s chosen child was despised by those who were still praying fervently for the Messiah’s arrival. I might have enjoyed the irony if I hadn’t been so hungry. And lonely.
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They were filthy, both of them. The donkey, too. They stank, and the woman was drenched in sweat. So, there was that, for a start.
Plus, they couldn’t have chosen at a worse time to turn up – the house was already teeming with Roman soldiers, and I was out of ideas to keep the kids entertained quietly. Trust me: you do not want to annoy an armed Roman soldier.
We ran because God told us to run. No one aspires to become a refugee: the taste of humiliation is bitter. We ran, not to improve our lives, but to save them.