Jesus didn’t treat the women any differently. Yes, we get left out of a lot of the stories going round, but Jesus didn’t write them. All history is subjective they say and women have been ‘disappeared’ from plenty of written records. Maybe the boys who wrote our stories were worried that people would think badly of Jesus for having women be part of the group. To be honest, there are still plenty of folk out there trying to find ways to make him look bad – and to exclude women. But, day to day, men and women, we were just the ‘gang’. The lucky ones who got to travel with him and listen and chat and see the world begin to change, to swing on its axis, to move towards goodness. Jesus loved my motorcycle. There’s plenty of stories where he disappears off into the hills or mountains to pray. None of them mention that he was often sitting on the back of the Triumph when he ‘disappeared’. Not always, but often. I’ve never had a better passenger. He’d relax and lean into the corners with me. He’d spread his arms wide and whoop into the night air. He really liked the speed and the wind. Then, usually in the middle of nowhere, he’d tap me on the shoulder and indicate that he wanted to stop. He’d hop off and wander into the bush or the scrub or the beach and that’d be that. I’d watch him go and then kick the bike back into life and head back to the gang. Come morning, I’d ride back and he’d be waiting. Often as not he’d be in conversation with someone who’d stopped to see if he was ok. As I pulled up he’d smile and wave and my heart would skip a beat or two. Then we’d head somewhere for coffee and breakfast and he’d talk about what he’d heard or seen in the night. What his ‘Father’ had said. That was my special time. The time I had him to myself and he was calm and open and seemed pleased to share the darkness and the light with me. It was in those moments that we realised that we were friends. I’d never really had a friend like that, and I’m not sure he had either. The next year or so went by like a flash. We were always on the move. And always in the news. My mother stopped talking to me. She said that I was bringing shame to the company name (note, ‘company’, not ‘family’!). I’d never been happier. I had a real friend; in fact I had many. We were 119
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