Three Days: A Mother's Story (2 page)

I finished my morning chores and waited until my younger sister Sarah had gone to the village well for water and, as always, the latest gossip. Then I made certain my older brothers were busy at work with my father. My plan was to be sure no one was present when I approached my mother. Since my startling announcement the previous day, she had turned distant and moody to all of us, and I knew she was avoiding me in particular. But the house was quiet and still now, and I was more determined than ever to get her full attention.

“Mother,” I said in my firmest voice, ready to make the long speech I had already prepared in my mind, “I think you should allow me to travel to see our cousin Elizabeth so that I may—”

“Yes!” she said suddenly, before I had barely begun. She looked up from where she was churning butter. “That is exactly what you will do.” She nodded as if it were her own idea. “Prepare yourself to travel to Judah. Your brother Asher will accompany you. You will leave the day after the Sabbath.”

I was not sure if she was simply eager to be rid of me, trying to put off the inevitable humiliation she was certain I would bring upon my family, or if she perhaps thought our wise cousin might somehow be able to straighten me out. It was even possible that she wanted me to stay with my cousin indefinitely. I guess I will never know her motives for sure. But I do know that my mother loved me. I could see it plainly in her concerned eyes as she hugged me and bade me shalom just as the sun came up on the morning after Sabbath.

Asher and I walked quietly through the sleepy village of Nazareth, setting our pace for what would be a nearly weeklong journey into the hill country of Judah. I am sure my mother assumed my heart would be somber, heavy with the burden I carried, as we traveled along. But as soon as we reached the outskirts of our hometown, I became light and joyful. To me, the world was a beautiful place filled with the fresh, green scent of springtime and the abundance of wildflowers blooming along the verdant hillsides. To me, life was young and new and promising—God’s Son was alive inside me. It was a day to rejoice and be glad!

So different from now—this night that seems to stretch into eternity. I think about him as I sit here in the darkness. I wonder if the lamps we left in the tomb are still burning. I think of his battered body, quickly cleaned as best we could before Sabbath came, then hastily wrapped in fine linen cloth before the Roman soldiers shooed us away and replaced the heavy stone door that blocked the entrance, sealing him off from us. I think of him lying there, alone and beaten, and I wonder, despite my promise to remain faithful, What has Jehovah done?

I remind myself that I must not dwell there. I must not give in to the darkness. And so I continue on my journey. I remember the feeling I had when after days of traveling we finally reached the home of our relatives Elizabeth and Zacharias.

“Asher,” I said to my brother, “is this really where they live? It looks like a palace!”

He squinted up against the bright afternoon sun, then nodded. “It is just as Father said in his directions. Surely, you have heard Father say how our relatives are very wealthy. Zacharias is an important priest.” Then he handed me my bundle of clothing and smiled. “You will be in good hands here, little one.”

“You are not staying?” I asked in alarm.

He grinned and looked down at his grubby clothes. “I am not fine enough to visit such a place.”

“But, Asher!” I had no doubts that I appeared just as impoverished as my brother.

“Father told me to hurry back,” he said as he turned and waved.

So now I was alone and more than just a little intimidated by the grandeur standing before me. I had not imagined that my relatives were so well off. I did not know anyone this well off. I started to head for the impressive entrance. Then, wanting my first appearance to be acceptable, I turned and went down to a well we had passed on our way through the town. I shook the traveling dust from my outer garments before I washed my hands and face. Then I wet and smoothed my hair and adjusted my veil. I know it was not much, but it was the best I could do.

My father had sent a message ahead, and I knew my relatives would be expecting me. But I had no idea what my reception would be among such grand and educated people. A well-dressed servant met me at the door. I told him my name, and after studying me carefully he finally stepped back and allowed me into the spacious home. I am sure he thought I was a peasant who had no business intruding on Elizabeth and Zacharias’s lives like this. Clutching my shabby bundle of clothes to my chest, I waited as he went off in search of his mistress. I noticed then that the floors were made of fitted stone. Perhaps even marble, but I was not sure. The floor in my parents’ home was made of hard-packed dirt that was dark and brown, but these floors shone like sunshine in the afternoon light.

“Dear Mary!” A woman who was much older than my mother entered the room. She was dressed like a queen, with her beautiful silver braids coiled around her head like a crown. I actually wondered if I should bow to her. But then I saw her smile, and it felt familiar and genuine.

“Cousin Elizabeth?”

She continued to approach me, then stopped suddenly. Her faded eyes grew wide, and her smile vanished as her brows shot up. “Oh!” she said as she stood there for a moment, clutching her midsection with both hands.

“Are you all right?” I asked as I ran to her. I hoped my arrival was not too unexpected or unsettling for her. “Shall I call for help?”

Then she seemed to relax as she smiled and said, “Dear Mary, you are so blessed among women!” Gently taking my hands in hers, she continued to speak, looking directly into my eyes as if she could see straight into my soul. “And even more blessed is the babe who sleeps in your womb! But why am I so fortunate that the mother of my Lord comes to visit my humble home?”

I was speechless! But at the same time my heart bubbled with joy at her words. Cousin Elizabeth knew what was happening in me! She understood the miracle Jehovah had begun!

“The babe inside me leaped!” she said with moist eyes. “The moment I saw you ...” Then she took my hand and firmly placed it on her rounded belly. “My son leaped for joy! You have been greatly blessed, dear Mary. You have believed what God has told you. And now every word will come true!”

And it was as if Jehovah himself had removed the cork that had been keeping my words within me, and like a psalm, or perhaps a fountain of praise, they came pouring out of me. Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands when I finished.

Even now I still remember those words. I know them by heart. Sometimes I repeat them to myself. I think they might help me on this dark and hopeless night. And now, perhaps more than ever before, I am encouraged by the powerful truth. I remind myself that this thing—this thing that mighty Jehovah has begun—is not over yet.

Lord God Jehovah has filled my soul to bursting!

And my spirit rejoices in my Savior!

Although I was lowly, he honored me—he chose me for his handmaid.

And forevermore I shall be called blessed!

Jehovah has done great things for me, and his name is Holy!

His mercy is poured out on all who trust him.

He shows his power and strength and tumbles the proud.

He dethrones the mighty and exalts the humble.

He feeds the hungry, but those who think they are rich leave with nothing.

He remembers his chosen Israel, pouring out his mercy!

Just as he has promised—beginning with Abraham and for all eternity!

3

DURING MY VISIT WITH Elizabeth, I was treated like a princess. My cousin was so delighted to have my company during the latter part of her pregnancy. Especially since her husband, Zacharias, was unable to speak. I found this strangely intriguing. How could it be that a priest was unable to speak? Then Elizabeth explained how Zacharias had doubted the angel of the Lord when he told him that God planned to bless them with a child.

“My poor husband could not believe that anyone as ancient as he and I could bear children,” Elizabeth said, sadly shaking her head. “He doubted God.”

I nodded with understanding. After all, that was exactly what my own mother had done.

“And in that moment God struck him mute,” Elizabeth said with an amused smile. “As a result, it has been very quiet around here—that is, until you arrived.”

Elizabeth made sure I ate healthful foods and got plenty of sleep while in her home. She also shared with me all the knowledge she had been gathering about pregnancy and childbirth. She was the kind of woman who had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a love for God that was unsurpassed. To this day, I think of her as one of my finest examples of womanhood, and I am eternally grateful for the influence she had on my life.

She also took me under her wing in regard to my wardrobe. Without insulting my poor peasant girl attire, she helped me make some lovely garments that I later used for my wedding and married life, as well as some fine pieces for my still unborn son. She had an eye for beauty and quality unlike any I had ever seen before.

Being with Elizabeth for all those weeks was like a priceless gift from God. Her faith and strength and wisdom encouraged me every single day of my visit. And she helped confirm that Jehovah had indeed blessed me with the greatest honor given to women.

“The child in your womb will change the course of history,” she told me. And whenever I felt overwhelmed by such strong prophetic words, worried that I, an inexperienced young girl, would be incapable of mothering such an important child, she gently reminded me that the Lord God would show me how to do these things.

“Lean on him, Mary,” she often said. “The Lord Jehovah will lead you.”

Her genuine love and kind words were like a fortification that strengthened my heart, and after three months passed I felt ready for what lay ahead. I knew it was time to go home.

Elizabeth and I embraced for a long moment when I was about to leave. She was nearly ready to deliver, and her belly was so swollen that I could barely wrap my arms around her. Both of us were crying, tears of joy mixed with tears of sorrow.

“The Lord God Jehovah bless you at your birthing time,” I told her as I wiped my eyes. “Blessings upon you and your son and his father.”

“And on you,” she said, waving a silk scarf as I left her home. “And upon my Lord, your son.”

Asher was waiting for me down by the road. Once again he had been too embarrassed to come inside Elizabeth and Zacharias’s fine house, although I knew he had gladly taken the food the servant had given him. He appeared to have finished his meal, as he rested in the shade of an olive tree. But when he saw me he stood and waved.

“I think I must be traveling with royalty,” he said as he pretended to bow. “Where did you get the new clothes?”

Embarrassed by my finery, I quickly explained that our cousin Elizabeth was very generous.

“I noticed,” he said as he nodded to the large bundle the servant had given him to carry for me. I had a smaller bundle of my own.

“Do you mind?” I asked, feeling guilty for being such a burden.

“Not for you, little sister.” Then he hugged me and told me he had missed me at home. “And I am not the only one,” he said as we began walking north. “Your betrothed is beside himself.”

“Joseph?”

He nodded. “Who else? The poor man has asked me at least a dozen times when you planned to come home. I think he was worried that you had left us for good.”

Joseph. I had barely considered him during my time away. Not that I did not care about him. I certainly did. But I had no idea how he would react to my rather shocking announcement. Instead of fretting, I reminded myself of Elizabeth’s words.
“Trust Jehovah. He will see you through.”

As we walked, I prayed that Jehovah would also see Joseph through. For I knew as well as anyone that Joseph, the strong and handsome carpenter, was indeed a proud man. A good man, no doubt, but any man (no matter how good) would have to question how his betrothed had come to be in the family way and yet remained a virgin. It was clear that I had some explaining to do.
Trust Jehovah
, I told myself.
He will see me through
.

I remind myself of these same words again tonight. I know that, more than ever, I need to believe this. Trust Jehovah, and he will see me through. Trust Jehovah.

Weary from travel after I got home, I spent a couple of days in solitude and rest—and prayer. But I knew I could not avoid Joseph forever, and on the third day I sent a message through Asher that I wanted to speak to my betrothed. I invited Joseph to meet me in our family’s garden, hoping that would keep our conversation private. I even wore one of the new outer garments Elizabeth had helped me create, along with a very fine linen veil and several bracelets. I could tell by Joseph’s expression that he was truly happy to see me, and I suspect that my improved appearance was pleasing to him. This did not make the task before me any easier.

After a formal greeting, I decided to speak frankly. I had no flowery speech prepared, no persuasive words to convince him of my innocence. All I knew to do was to simply tell him the truth. And so I did.

Joseph’s dark brows drew together, and his face twisted in pain, and perhaps anger, at my words. I knew he did not believe me. Still, he said nothing. He just stared at me in the most accusing way. It reminded me of the look I had received from my mother—only magnified.

“I am sorry that you do not believe me,” I began.

“How can I believe you?” he said in a tightly controlled voice, as if each word caused him agony.