(A retelling of Mark 14:1-9)
He eats. Gathered with him are the disciples, Simon and other followers. She enters. The room is busy, active. The noises of eating and talking fill every corner. Unnoticed she scans across the room looking for him; her hero, her joy.
There he is, surrounded by so many, clamouring for attention, asking questions, gleaning his wisdom. He looks weary. Its been a long journey with still so far yet to go. Nobody seems to notice. She does.
Swiftly she moves across the room under the vibrant noises and smells of the banquet, her contribution yet to come. She makes her way past the outer ring of people; around this one’s shoulder and under that one’s arm. She comes between two who are discussing a particular point of theology. She is still invisible to the crowd.
She reaches him. He sees her and gives her a smiling glance. His smile warms her deep into her soul. Without a word she pulls a jar from her pouch and cracks the seal. The perfume wafts through the room silencing the conversation. She starts pouring it over he head using her hand to wash it in his hair. He closes his eyes, leans his head back and lets it flow over his forehead, down his face and neck. It is cool against his skin. He reaches up and holds her hand. His eyes meet hers in silent exchange. His lips whisper “Thank-you.” She smiles as tears drip down her flushed cheek.