A Nativity Story
The sky was the color of deep silver water and cobalt
shadows that night. Soon the sky would darken into a gray blush of dusk and
darkness, but for now I breathed the sweet winter air and calmed my heart
beating a staccato of fear in my chest.
“Mary!”
My sweet friend Priscilla waltzed across the barren street and pulled me into a hug. Her eyes involuntarily looked towards my growing abdomen. She was the only friend I had told before I had gone to stay with my Aunt Elizabeth for three months.
“Have you told Joseph?”
“No.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain how many nights I had lain awake, crying softly, praying that Joseph would understand. That his faith would be stronger than his reason. That the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would speak to him as he had spoken to me. I was carrying the Savior of the world. Surely God would help him to understand. But oh…the horror of the possibility that he would believe I had been unfaithful. It made me sick, for I loved this stable leader who had been chosen to be my husband. We were supposed to be married that winter, and I would begin to share his life. This dream – to share his life – had undergone so much in the last few months. At some moments I was at peace, believing that God would surely provide a way, even here, for there to be understanding. Other times I felt fear make me nauseous, terrified of the horror and consequences of bearing a child that was not mine.
“How will you tell him?”
“I may not have to.” My slight frame showed evidence in ways I struggled to hide.
Priscilla nodded, the darkness falling faster now, like snow, blurring the fine lines of sunset and shadows.
“You should get home. May the Lord be with you, my sister.”
“And with you,” I whispered.
“Mary!”
My sweet friend Priscilla waltzed across the barren street and pulled me into a hug. Her eyes involuntarily looked towards my growing abdomen. She was the only friend I had told before I had gone to stay with my Aunt Elizabeth for three months.
“Have you told Joseph?”
“No.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain how many nights I had lain awake, crying softly, praying that Joseph would understand. That his faith would be stronger than his reason. That the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would speak to him as he had spoken to me. I was carrying the Savior of the world. Surely God would help him to understand. But oh…the horror of the possibility that he would believe I had been unfaithful. It made me sick, for I loved this stable leader who had been chosen to be my husband. We were supposed to be married that winter, and I would begin to share his life. This dream – to share his life – had undergone so much in the last few months. At some moments I was at peace, believing that God would surely provide a way, even here, for there to be understanding. Other times I felt fear make me nauseous, terrified of the horror and consequences of bearing a child that was not mine.
“How will you tell him?”
“I may not have to.” My slight frame showed evidence in ways I struggled to hide.
Priscilla nodded, the darkness falling faster now, like snow, blurring the fine lines of sunset and shadows.
“You should get home. May the Lord be with you, my sister.”
“And with you,” I whispered.
I slipped into my father’s house silently. My mother stood
in front of the fire, alone, preparing a meal.
“Mary, my daughter. Welcome home.”
My mother placed a hand on my shoulder and let her eyes run over my figure.
“Joseph is coming tonight.”
“Is he home?”
“He came home several days ago, and your uncle sent word you would be home today. I’m sure he is anxious to see you.”
My stomach flipped, flipped again, my heart shuddering and crying out within me.
“Oh, my God and Lord, please, please let Joseph believe me.”
I moved to my little room towards the back of the house. I hung up two of my dresses carefully, and unrolled the soft woven straw mat. I laid on it, tracing the smooth dirt floor with my finger. From the front room, I heard a stern knock on the heavy wooden door. Immediately I felt my heart begin to violently beat. I heard the kind, steady voice of my betrothed.
“She’s in her room,” I heard my mother answer. Footsteps. My stomach was twisting, painful and sharp, and I felt sick. Joseph stopped in the doorway, and I met his eyes with so much confusion and hesitation and fear that I saw his face immediately turn into questioning concern.
“You must be tired,” was all he said, however.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I tried to brush it away with my fingers, but more began to pour. “Mary…”
I stood up shakily to my feet and turned away from him.
“I’m so, so sorry, Joseph.”
There was silence. He was waiting, perhaps, waiting to hear what I had done. Ohhh how could something so miraculous, so wonderful, be so incredibly painful?
I began to sob, and slowly he came closer, standing behind me and waiting.
“Joseph, I’m…I’m going to have a baby.”
Still silence, but I could tell he had been shocked into silence: cold, severe, unmitigated silence that held so much hurt I could feel it surround me.
“You…?” There was agony in his voice.
I shook my head. “No, no… you have to believe me.”
A measure of relief, yet still his voice was etched with questioning.
“Were you…?”
“No… nothing.”
“Then…?”
Sobs were shaking my body then, and I couldn’t speak. Suddenly his strong, strong arms were encircling my waist, pulling me against him. He turned me to face him, brushed the wet hair away from my eyes. It steadied me, helped me to breathe again. Taking a deep, gasping breath, I tried to calm myself. He took my face in his hands, and his voice was steady, but I could see the weight of the revelation in his eyes. We both knew I could be put to death, and he would be the first to cast a stone. I saw the pain of it in his eyes, and it was in that moment I grasped the depth of his love for me. A shooting, piercing pain tore through my body.
“You’ve always, always told me the truth, Mary. Please, my dear one, tell me.”
“You won’t believe me,” I said.
“I don’t believe this,” he said, as if to himself.
“I… an angel came to me. He- he told me I would become the mother of Jesus, the foretold Messiah.”
Silence. I could fairly see the battle roaring through his eyes. It was so…so incredible. Yet, why would I be chosen? It was possible, yet how could it be proven? They would say he was naïve, so naïve to believe my story. Yet I had never been dishonest with Joseph.
Finally Joseph groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.
For a moment his eyes locked with mine, and I could see the purest love shining through the chaos in his mind. At last he turned to go. At the doorway, he looked back, but he would not meet my eyes. Again he turned, and again I was alone in my room.
“Oh, Lord,” I prayed, “as you have worked a miracle within me, so work a miracle in the man I love.”
And I had peace.
“Mary, my daughter. Welcome home.”
My mother placed a hand on my shoulder and let her eyes run over my figure.
“Joseph is coming tonight.”
“Is he home?”
“He came home several days ago, and your uncle sent word you would be home today. I’m sure he is anxious to see you.”
My stomach flipped, flipped again, my heart shuddering and crying out within me.
“Oh, my God and Lord, please, please let Joseph believe me.”
I moved to my little room towards the back of the house. I hung up two of my dresses carefully, and unrolled the soft woven straw mat. I laid on it, tracing the smooth dirt floor with my finger. From the front room, I heard a stern knock on the heavy wooden door. Immediately I felt my heart begin to violently beat. I heard the kind, steady voice of my betrothed.
“She’s in her room,” I heard my mother answer. Footsteps. My stomach was twisting, painful and sharp, and I felt sick. Joseph stopped in the doorway, and I met his eyes with so much confusion and hesitation and fear that I saw his face immediately turn into questioning concern.
“You must be tired,” was all he said, however.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I tried to brush it away with my fingers, but more began to pour. “Mary…”
I stood up shakily to my feet and turned away from him.
“I’m so, so sorry, Joseph.”
There was silence. He was waiting, perhaps, waiting to hear what I had done. Ohhh how could something so miraculous, so wonderful, be so incredibly painful?
I began to sob, and slowly he came closer, standing behind me and waiting.
“Joseph, I’m…I’m going to have a baby.”
Still silence, but I could tell he had been shocked into silence: cold, severe, unmitigated silence that held so much hurt I could feel it surround me.
“You…?” There was agony in his voice.
I shook my head. “No, no… you have to believe me.”
A measure of relief, yet still his voice was etched with questioning.
“Were you…?”
“No… nothing.”
“Then…?”
Sobs were shaking my body then, and I couldn’t speak. Suddenly his strong, strong arms were encircling my waist, pulling me against him. He turned me to face him, brushed the wet hair away from my eyes. It steadied me, helped me to breathe again. Taking a deep, gasping breath, I tried to calm myself. He took my face in his hands, and his voice was steady, but I could see the weight of the revelation in his eyes. We both knew I could be put to death, and he would be the first to cast a stone. I saw the pain of it in his eyes, and it was in that moment I grasped the depth of his love for me. A shooting, piercing pain tore through my body.
“You’ve always, always told me the truth, Mary. Please, my dear one, tell me.”
“You won’t believe me,” I said.
“I don’t believe this,” he said, as if to himself.
“I… an angel came to me. He- he told me I would become the mother of Jesus, the foretold Messiah.”
Silence. I could fairly see the battle roaring through his eyes. It was so…so incredible. Yet, why would I be chosen? It was possible, yet how could it be proven? They would say he was naïve, so naïve to believe my story. Yet I had never been dishonest with Joseph.
Finally Joseph groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.
For a moment his eyes locked with mine, and I could see the purest love shining through the chaos in his mind. At last he turned to go. At the doorway, he looked back, but he would not meet my eyes. Again he turned, and again I was alone in my room.
“Oh, Lord,” I prayed, “as you have worked a miracle within me, so work a miracle in the man I love.”
And I had peace.
It was two days later, and the sun was once against resting
on the mountains in the distance, waiting for a tiny moment to show one last
ray of sweet light before dipping lightly into the cool night.
Bowls of savory food sat ready on the table, and I bowed my head and waited until my father had blessed the food. We said amen; the door burst open. Joseph stood there, his eyes pools of excitement.
“Mary, come with me.”
I pushed back from the table, grabbed a shawl from a peg near the door, and slipped out into the resting twilight. It was calm outside, strangely contrasting with the energy emanating from the man walking quickly beside me. He had only taken a few strides before he looked at me, joy flowing into those steady eyes, tears mixing with their expression.
“Mary, oh Mary,” he said, and his voice was warm and soft. He reached for my hand, his eyes staring intently into mine.
“An angel appeared to me in a dream. He confirmed all that you told me.”
A tear slipped down Joseph’s face, and I felt God’s grace break over my soul.
“Oh Mary. . . I thought I would have to live this life without you. I thought . . . I thought so many things. But now – oh glory to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who has chosen us to bear His Son. Glory to His Name, that He would choose us.”
I placed my hand over the place the Son of God was beginning to grow inside of me. Truly, truly, this was grace, that He would choose us. Truly, truly, this was grace.
Bowls of savory food sat ready on the table, and I bowed my head and waited until my father had blessed the food. We said amen; the door burst open. Joseph stood there, his eyes pools of excitement.
“Mary, come with me.”
I pushed back from the table, grabbed a shawl from a peg near the door, and slipped out into the resting twilight. It was calm outside, strangely contrasting with the energy emanating from the man walking quickly beside me. He had only taken a few strides before he looked at me, joy flowing into those steady eyes, tears mixing with their expression.
“Mary, oh Mary,” he said, and his voice was warm and soft. He reached for my hand, his eyes staring intently into mine.
“An angel appeared to me in a dream. He confirmed all that you told me.”
A tear slipped down Joseph’s face, and I felt God’s grace break over my soul.
“Oh Mary. . . I thought I would have to live this life without you. I thought . . . I thought so many things. But now – oh glory to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who has chosen us to bear His Son. Glory to His Name, that He would choose us.”
I placed my hand over the place the Son of God was beginning to grow inside of me. Truly, truly, this was grace, that He would choose us. Truly, truly, this was grace.
