Miriam ran gaily down the dirt road. Her brown hair flew behind her as she quickened her steps toward her house. She pulled up her skirts as she scurried up the stones that served as stairs into her house. “Mother? Mother!” she called.

Mother sat in the old squeaky rocking chair, furiously knitting by the fire light, for it was dark. “My dear Miriam!” she said. Mother rose up to greet her daughter. Immediately she clutched her stomach in pain and sat back down.

Miriam rushed to her mother’s side. “Are you well?” she asked in concern.

“Yes, dear,” Mother said. ” For a 13-year-old girl you are quite motherly and very kind-hearted. Now run along and find your brother.”

Miriam nodded, but watched her mother carefully. Mother was bound to give birth any day now, and it was causing her a lot of stress. The pharoah of Egypt had issued a decree declaring that all Hebrew baby boys were to be thrown into the Nile River. Luckily, her brother Aaron was too old-he was four years old. But if the baby were to be a boy-She wouldn’t think about it.

She called loud and long for Aaron. “Aaron! ” It’s time for supper!”

In dashed the energetic little boy. “I’m here!”Aaron flashed his dimpled grin. “And I’m hungry!”

“Come, come, let’s wash up,” Miriam said, leading her brother to the wash basin.

As soon as he finished, Aaron ran to the table. He sat down and waited patiently for Miriam to serve him. Miriam spooned him a steaming bowl of delicious lentils. “Here you are!” She smiled and placed the bowl near him. “It’s hot.”

The little boy dug in heartily. Miriam rushed to spoon a plate for Mother. “Here, Mother,” she said. “Be careful because it’s-”

“Uuoooooohhh!” Mother screamed out, causing Miriam to drop the bowl in shock. “Oh, Miriam, Miriam!” Mother winced in pain.

Miriam was so frightened, she didn’t know what to do. Aaron started to cry. Mother groaned and screamed loudly. Miriam fell near Mother’s feet. “Oh, Mother, what do I do for you? Oh, Mother, Mother!”

“Miriam,” Mother spoke, with heaving breaths, “First, call the midwife. You know where she lives.” Mother paused to groan, which made Miriam grip Mother’s hand in fright. “Then, call your father. Make sure the midwife comes first. Do you understand, Miriam? Do you understand?” Mother tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand.

Miriam nodded, too afraid to speak. She ran to Aaron. “Aaron,” she whispered, using all the confidence she could muster, ” don’t cry, don’t cry so. Mother needs you. She needs your strength. I am going to get help, Aaron. Be strong for Mother. Please be strong, Aaron.”

Aaron stopped crying at once. “Mother need me?” He asked, surprised by the thought.

“Yes, Aaron.” Inside Miriam pleaded for Aaron to understand.

“Okay. I help her.” He puffed up his chest.

“Thank you, Aaron.” Her voice betrayed the actual relief she felt.

Aaron sat by Mother’s side. “Mother,” he said, “I help you.”

Miriam wiped away tears from her eyes. Were they tears of sorrow or of happiness? She didn’t know. She only knew one thing: she had to get help-and get it now.