Ayala's King: Pt. 3
- Mira
- Dec 17, 2025
- 6 min read
Welcome back to Part Three! Enjoy :D
Part Three:
Ayala sat huddled on the floor with her arms wrapped around her middle, rocking from side to side, doing her best to drown out Mary’s cries.
She had slipped back in the house and tried to fall asleep, but almost as soon as she had returned to her bedroll, Joseph had climbed up the ladder. He’d stooped down by her parents and gently shook Leah awake, begging her to come outside. The baby was coming, and neither he nor Mary knew what to do.
When Miriam had been born, Ayala had stayed in the courtyard with Naomi. They had played games and finished their outside chores, and by dinner time, her grandmother had appeared, holding a bundle of blankets and bending down to show Ayala her new sister. There had been distance, and Leah had been quiet.
Not like Mary.
Ayala had never seen a baby being born. She didn’t look out the window, terrified of what she would see. All that she knew was that the baby was hurting Mary, and that unlike Miriam, he would be born on a dirty stable floor.
“Come here, little bird.” Ezra’s voice broke through the room. She scrambled to her feet and ran into his arms, burying her face in his chest. “Shh. It’ll be alright. Mary is young and strong– it’ll be over before you know it.”
Ayala gripped her father’s sleeve tightly, trying hard not to listen to the commotion outside. “It’ll be morning soon.”
Ezra nodded absently, his eyes on Miriam’s cradle. No doubt he was remembering the times when his own wife had been in the same position that the girl outside was in.
Ayala had been too little to remember, but there had been a little boy, not that long ago, born in the dead of night, too tiny to breathe. Ezra had held him for one long, beautiful hour, waiting for his precious life to flee from the world. He had buried his son outside in the courtyard, and part of Leah’s heart had died alongside their sweet baby.
The memory was unbidden, and Ezra had to swallow hard. That would not be Mary and Joseph’s story. He would not let it be.
“Mary told me the angel story,” Ayala whispered, lifting her head to look at her father.
He smoothed her hair, intrinsically grateful for her child-like hold on him tonight. “Did she?”
Ayala nodded. “She said the baby would be a king.” She blinked slowly, rubbing at her eyes. “But kings aren’t born on stable floors.”
Ezra sighed. It was the same question he’d wrestled with ever since the first night Mary and Joseph had arrived and he’d heard their story. The one that Joseph seemed to believe with every fiber of his being.
How could the Messiah, the Savior of the world, be born to a carpenter and his wife from Nazareth, the poorest town in Judea? The prophet Isaiah told of a King, a mighty ruler who would deliver Isreal from the suffering they’d walked for so many years. Power and poverty could not be reconciled in the simplest of human minds.
But Ezra had studied the scriptures faithfully each day of his life, and he knew that the Lord he loved so faithfully did not work in the same ways He was expected to. If he had chosen a virgin with no dowry or family claims to bear the Son of Man, who were they to argue?
“Tell me again who your favorite story is about,” he prompted Ayala, who yawned sleepily.
“King David,” she said, and Ezra pulled her onto his lap.
“He’s my favorite too.” He smiled at his daughter gently. “But underneath all the gold, the glitter, and the palace life, David was still a simple man. And he was born as nothing other than a lowly shepherd.”
Ayala wrinkled her nose. “Why would Yahweh want a shepherd to be king?”
“His ways are higher than ours,” he replied softly. “Think of Moses. Born a slave, and yet later the leader of our people. Rahab lived her early life as a prostitute, and yet Adonai chose her to hold a place in King David’s line. Do you see, Ayala? Our God loves to use what is humble and raise it to what is mighty. He blends simplicity and grace in the brightest and best of ways.”
“But it’s not what’s best for Mary,” Ayala whimpered, and Ezra kissed the top of her head. He cherished her tender heart.
“I know it’s easy to feel that way. But we can only see what’s right in front of us– Yahweh can see what’s in front and what’s ahead of us. And His purpose will always have His precious children in mind.”
The door slammed.
Ayala jumped up and ran to the edge of the ladder. Ezra followed close behind, peering down to see Leah stalk into the kitchen, her mouth set in a thin line.
Her hands were soaked in blood.
Ayala made a small noise, and Ezra gripped her shoulder to comfort her before calling down to his wife. “Leah? How is she?”
Leah turned towards the loft, tears sparkling in her eyes. “It’s a hard delivery. Would you be able to boil some water for me? There should be a pail by the door, and Ayala can run and get you some more if you need it.”
Ezra nodded once. “Of course.”
A moment of silence fell over the house. Then Leah scooped up a pile of rags from the table and ran back to the courtyard, slamming the door behind her. The flame from the candle flickered from the impact, casting little tongues of shadows all over the walls.
Ezra dragged a hand down his face, then gathered his last bit of strength and turned back to Ayala. “Well. I’m going to need your help.”
He climbed down from the ladder and pulled Ayala down after him. The pail turned out to be half-full. He emptied it into the pot Leah had set to warming over the fire, and handed it to Ayala. “Will you run and get me some more, please?”
Ayala’s brow furrowed, but she nodded. Ezra kissed her forehead and sent her out the backdoor so she wouldn’t disturb Mary. She ran as hard as she could up the packed earth, her bare feet thumping against the packed earth.
Inside, Ezra stoked the fire and paced the floor, waiting anxiously for the water to boil. His fingers tapped against the table as he passed.
Adonai, hear my prayer tonight. Bring this child safely into the world. Let this mother live. May we remember this night for joy and not the sorrow.
The door banged, and Ayala swept in, her cheeks flushed and water sloshing out of the pail. Ezra took it from her and added the water to the pot, then swiftly wrapped her up in a blanket Leah had left in the kitchen table. “Did you see the star tonight?”
The star was one he and Ayala had watched for months. It had first appeared almost nine months ago, and had only grown brighter and more brilliant, outshining all of the other stars in the sky.
Ayala nodded, sitting down on the floor by the hearth. “It’s even brighter tonight.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you think the angel will come back?”
“I think,” Ezra said slowly, turning to look at his daughter, “That the angel’s work is done. He came to show us who Mary’s baby would be– and tonight, we will see for ourselves.”
Ayala opened her mouth, but her words were drowned out by a baby’s cry.
Ezra closed his eyes. Thank you, Yahweh.
“He’s here!” Ayala leapt up, but Ezra pulled her back against his chest.
“Ach, hold on, little one. Babies take a lot of time and a lot of work. Let’s let Ima finish. She’ll tell us when Mary is ready for us.”
Ayala frowned, but she was too tired to argue. She sat down again, and Ezra took a seat at the table, folding his hands tightly.
They waited in silence, holding their breath, until Leah appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted, but with a smile on her face. “Mary says you can come see your new cousin,” she told Ayala. She paused, then said softly, “His name is Jesus.”
Ayala jumped up without hesitation. She ran past her mother and out into the cold night air, her heart full.
Thanks for reading! Here are the links for parts one and two in case you missed them. :)
Comments