by Lydia Bowers


The story of how Jochebed, Moses's mother, saved her son from the clutches of death.

Miriam rocked Moses in her arms gently, her heartbeat quickening as she heard more screams of mother's echoing throughout their small village. Miriam kissed Moses's forehead. Nothing would happen to her baby brother while she was holding him.

"Miriam, come quickly"

Miriam's Mother, Jochebed, was near the doorway of their house, her eyes dark with fear. Miriam hurried over and gave her Moses, who was now whimpering. Jochebed gripped her daughter's arm.

"Get the basket Miriam. It is time"

Miriam swallowed as her mother peeked out their doorway. She had Moses hidden in the basket she had crafted earlier. It was made out of bulrushes from the nearby river and was pitched with tar. Suddenly, her mother ran out of the house, leaving Miriam standing there. That's when she realized that she was supposed to be with her. Miriam hurried to catch up with her, hiding in the shadow's whenever she heard footsteps. When she reached her mother, she had slowed to a stop. She was crying. Miriam clutched her Mother's arm as they walked down to the river, worry pounding with every beat of her heart. Her mother was humming a lullaby and rocking the basket gently, as if getting ready her son for the river he was to soon lay in. When they reached the river, Miriam pulled her mother toward a large clump of bulrushes, where they would be hidden. Jochebed placed the basket on the ground and opened the lid, tears sliding down her cheeks. Moses squealed when he saw his mother, and reached up to her with his chubby little hands. Miriam took one and kissed it gently, tears coming to her eyes as well. Jochebed bent down and kissed Moses nose, a tear falling on her son's cheek.

"I love you my son" she whispered.

Miriam watched the scene with silence, knowing that no other words could be spoken. Jochebed stood up and waded into the river, gazing into her baby's face the whole while. When she the water to was her waist, she placed the basket on the river and with one last look at her son, closed the lid. She looked up, her brown hair whipping around her face.

"River, flow gently for me. Such a precious cargo you bear" She whispered, giving the basket a slight push.

Jochebed watched her son float away, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Could my son be the one Lord? Can he deliver us?"

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