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.
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