Mary’s Pregnancy Journal–Entry One

This is the first of a series of entries in an imaginary journal, as we think about what might have been in the mind of Mary. It feels like this blog has been neglected for too long, so I will try to make one of these entries every couple of days until Christmas. My fellow Reformed Bloggers are welcome to join in, if they are so inclined.

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”

Yeah, right.

I suppose that is the sort of thing that devout people want me to say, something grand and noble. It’s what people in the Torah and the prophecies say when messengers from God visit them. He said he was a messenger from God, this Gabriel. All I know is that some guy surprised me, snuck up on me. For all I know, he was getting ready to kidnap me, knock me over the head and drag me off to sell to God-knows-who. For all I know, he was getting ready to have his way with me himself, that he saw some young thing and was all ready to take away her . . . yeah, well.

According to him, according to that line he fed me—I suppose that was pretty sophisticated to be a last minute lie—my, ummmm, well, Daddy would call it “virtue,” was taken away by the Holy Spirit. That would be pretty epic . . . the Holy Spirit; I hope Daddy and Mom will buy it. No, they’re probably going to be soooo ashamed . . . and what will the neighbors think? What if somebody decides that I should be thrown out of the village? What if somebody decides I should be stoned?

Oh, crap! What will Joseph say? What will he do?

So I’m supposed to be magnifying God? I’m supposed to be rejoicing in my Savior? Whose idiocy is that? Yes, I remember the story of Hannah. I know she sang something just like this, but she wanted her baby. She had been trying to get pregnant! I would much rather find out I had dysentery; it could only kill me, without all the humiliation.

But, you know, if there is even the slimmest possibility that this Gabriel dude was telling the truth, even the slightest chance that he wasn’t high on something or just some sort of crackpot, then I am going to be a mom. There is new life growing inside me, and that new life is going to being new life to my whole family, my whole village, my whole people . . . my whole world. Somehow, some way, if this can at all be something that is good going on inside me, that is a miracle. Little, nobody Mary from Nazareth, miss nobody special from no place special, is going to change the world . . . maybe. Even “maybe” seems pretty good.

Maybe I can rejoice just for the possibility that this is a good thing happening.

Then again, maybe I should get out of town for a while. I wonder how Elizabeth is doing these days.


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