the miracle

As her head finally sank to the pillows she let out the deep breath she felt like she’d been holding throughout a day that had seemed much longer than twenty-four hours. Halfway out the breath caught on the lump that had become permanently lodged in her throat and the tears threatened to spill over. She was so tempted to give into them and let despair overtake her, but she instead willed her body to relax and her mind to shut down. She could not stop the few tears that fell out of her eyes and rolled over her nose into her pillows, nor could she stop the small whimper that tumbled from her lips, but she could stop hurt and disbelief from entering her spirit, and this she did every night.

She felt the bed shift behind her as her new husband crawled in beside her and for a while all was quiet until his whisper floated towards her.
 
“Long day?”
 
“Yes.” She whispered back. This was his starting question and her standard response every night. In their two months of marriage long conversations had erupted from this. Sometimes they were deep and spiritual and other times they were lighthearted and rambling. It was their way of getting to know each other since he worked in his carpentry shop all day and she in the house fighting off the gossip mongers.
 
Tonight though, he didn’t respond right away and for a minute she thought he’d fallen asleep until she heard the deep breath he took every time he'd been thinking hard and was about to say or ask something important.
 
“Are you ok?” 
 
This made her hesitate. This was his important question? What he’d thought about and taken the deep breath for? And the question itself ... was she ok? Was she? In all honesty she herself didn’t know. She knew she would live, that her purpose here was far greater than anyone realized and yet ... and yet, was she ok? 
 
She felt him turn around to face her and felt his eyes on the back of her head, but knew that he would not, could not let himself touch her. Another tear escaped from the eyelids she had squeezed shut.

“Mary?”

She slowly turned around to face him, her movements weary and cumbersome from the added weight of the baby her young, small body had yet to adjust to. Her eyes sought through the darkness for his. She saw concern and unconditional love radiating from their depths and knew, knew beyond anything else, that whatever happened, she had this man. This man to love her and protect her through anything life brought their way.

“People don’t understand, Joseph.” 
 
With that, the tears came. She could no longer stop them, and as she drew in a shuddering breath she saw his eyes fill and spill, too. Both of their lives had changed drastically these past six months, and while they were so happy to be carrying what people had been waiting centuries for, the cost of submitting to God’s will was great.

“I know, Mary,” Joseph said in a husky tear-soaked voice. “But Mary, please don’t hurt over their words too bad. Don’t ever regret what you did ... Mary, you-”

“No, Joseph, oh no, no, no!” She interrupted, horrified he might think she regretted telling God for everything to be unto her, according to His will. “Joseph, they don’t understand that this baby is not simply a baby, He is the Messiah, our Lord Emmanuel, and that He shouldn’t come into the world greeted with rumors of scandal! They ... they don’t understand, and I can’t explain because I don’t completely understand myself!” With this she completely and totally broke down. The tears she’d held at bay for six months chased each other down her cheeks and into the hollow of her neck. They came one after another, telling the story of her joys and sorrows and fears.

“Mary, Mary,” Joseph said. “I don’t understand either, but it isn’t our job to understand. It’s the job of He who send this child. He sent Him to deliver the world of sorrow and hate, and while no one understands this now, someday, someday they will.” 
 
His soothing, reassuring words helped her tears to slow, her breathing to calm, and she looked up at him and hoped he could see in her eyes the same depth of love she had seen shimmering in his earlier. She offered a tentative smile.
 
“Yes. This baby will be the deliverer from injustice,” she looked down and touched the swell of her stomach that held more wonder than she’d known possible, and saw another hand hesitantly reach out to join hers. The baby chose that moment to move, and she met Joseph’s eyes, seeing joy and fascination that mirrored her own. His hand moved up to wipe the tear tracks on her cheeks, and then, for the first time, he gathered her into his arms and held her in a protective embrace, careful of the little King between them.

“It’s a miracle, Mary. A wonderful, amazing miracle.”
 
 Yes, it was. And as they drifted to sleep, they heard their hearts whisper to God. Thank you.


Christmas 2011
 

No comments:

Post a Comment