The Infant And The Mule "This is the last day that you will spend being a mule, my brother." My sister Zahra's wan face lights up as she speaks. I bray my approval as she strokes my nose. "The Lady Mary and her son Jesus will see you this night." What can a woman and her son do to lift this curse? Mine is a tale of woe. The night before my wedding, a few women that I used to keep company with offered me a cup of my favorite wine. My two sisters warn me that they were jealous women, that I shouldn't see them nor receive anything from them, but I didn't listen, and I drank the wine. The women entertained me until I passed out. Imagine my dismay when I woke up the next day to my sisters' weeping, and my horror on learning through their lament that I had been turned into a mule. The shame of losing my intended marriage to a good woman is the lesser tragedy than the disgrace that I, Anan the younger, have wrought on my family. So begins a search for the wise man or magician that can restore me to my proper form. Some of them are mere enchanters or conjurers, and are no better than the ones most able or decent at their calling. If father were here, he would know more about what to do, but all he can leave us and our mother is his great wealth. They visit his grave after every failed attempt to bring me back, slowly being overwhelmed by their grief. My poor sisters. They take care of our despairing mother and oversee the needs of the house, all of which are my duties. They array me in golden clothing. All I could eat with ease is sesame, and they made sure I did not want for it. Now they are occupied with guests, the travelers from Bethlehem and Egypt that they met outside the cemetery where father was put down to rest. Their servant, a young girl, asked them why they are attending to me, and my sisters, in their anguish, tell her of my misfortune. She then looks at me with the most tender gaze I have seen in many moons, and with a hopeful voice that rang true, she instructs my sisters to approach her mistress, the Lady Mary. 2. "Have pity on your handmaidens, our mistress, and deliver our brother from this witchcraft!" Amara, the elder of my sisters, sits down before the Lady and her son after they were brought into the chamber. The Lady's child, Jesus, is a delight to behold, with his sagacious eyes and upturned mouth, radiating purity and peace such as not easily seen in infants. The Lady Mary's sorrowful gaze falls on me after my sisters beseech them with my plight. She then takes up her infant, walks to me with luminous determination and puts him on my back. "My son, heal this mule with the strength of your divine power, and make him into the man he was before!" Her sad voice says with the clear conviction of faith. It gives comfort to my distraught heart as I see her face in tears. A warm flash of light appears before my vision. It grows into an intense brightness, banishing even the faintest of shadows until all I am is happiness, and a compassion so great it saved not only my soul, but also that of all mankind. 3. I open my eyes, and see my own body restored. At my side sits her young servant in the most radiant and gorgeous attire, for I have taken her as my wife. Since the miracle, I am deeply thankful the fall of my house and my family's devotion brought the Lady and her son into our lives. "O Jesus, Savior of the World, son of David, who turns sorrows into joy and lamentations into gladness! Blessed is she who bore Thee!" My sisters rejoice, sing and dance about the courtyard in their splendid garments, if they can tear themselves away long enough from attending and playing with the infant Jesus. Mother adores the Lady, her husband and her child, making sure that their every need is met. Everyone who is here at the nuptial feast will hear about and praise the extraordinary child who saved the hopeless mule, and honor the Lady and her family for all ages to come. What a wonderful and blessed legacy to leave to the future generations of my father's house!