And extraordinarily pregnant.
Remember when I said it looked more like a 7-year-old than a newborn?
Only five more days until my due date.
{Why yes, I’m about to fill up this very Christmas-ey Christmas post with nothing but Thanksgiving pictures! I just don’t know when else I’m going to get to share them with you if I don’t do it now. We had FIFTY family members (and a friend or two) over to our house for Thanksgiving this year. Don’t worry, everybody brought food, and I only made a handful of dishes. I’m not going to put captions on the pictures because I don’t want to break up the continuity of the post…so good luck figuring out who’s who and what’s going on 🙂 Oh and P.S. A BIG BIG thanks to my sister Kendall, who helped me all week to get ready. The big pregnant lady doesn’t move too quick these days and tires easily…I don’t know what I would have done without her.}
“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19
Every year something different about the Christmas story seems to spark within me. I love that His book is called living and God-breathed, because those two adjectives so perfectly describe the experience of discovering Scripture.
My Dad called me last week, with a thought that I had been pondering myself. “You are just like Mary this Christmas–GREAT with child. You’re feeling the same kinds of things she was feeling all those years ago,” he said. {Dad also went on to suggest we stage the Christmas story here at the house, for the girls’ great visual benefit…Somehow me wearing a robe while Jeremiah lead me around on a horse in the backyard–or, worse still, staging a birth scene in our barn–didn’t appeal to me :), but thanks Dad for always seeking out those “teachable moments”!}
As I try to go about my daily business, carrying what now looks much more like a 7-year-old-boy-child than a newborn in my burgeoning belly, I’ve thought a lot about Mary. I’ve heard estimates that she was probably around fourteen years old, something of a baby herself, and we know she was engaged to be married. When the angel came to tell her that she would carry GOD’s SON in her belly, he had four basic pieces of news. 1) The Holy Spirit would come upon her and she would give birth to God’s son (can that count as more than one piece of news?!) 2) She was to name the baby Jesus. 3) He would rule a kingdom that would never end. 4) Her previously barren (old) relative, Elizabeth, was six months pregnant.
A lot to take in for one conversation! And a LOT of faith to believe what was being told to her. Don’t you know that when the angel left her, Mary wondered if she had lost her ever-loving mind. Can’t you imagine the wonder and awe she must have felt–praying it could really be true, while at the same time scared to death about what people would think of her and HOW she would explain herself to Joseph.
Now Mary was highly favored by God for a reason, so it’s very possible that her motives and mine might not align at all :), but the first thing we have recorded that she does is the same thing I would have done. Of those four pieces of news, only one was testable–that Elizabeth was six months pregnant. If that were true, it would make the rest of her news seem a lot more believable, wouldn’t it? And before I told Joseph I would have loved a little proof, wouldn’t you?
The Scripture says she “got ready and hurried” to a town called Judea, where Elizabeth lived. Don’t you know she prayed her whole way over that dusty countryside? “Lord, I want to believe you, but the news seems so unbelievable. You’re trusting ME with YOUR son? Me?! You don’t owe me any proof, and I don’t want to displease you by asking for proof, but a little reassurance from Elizabeth sure would ease my heart.”
And she got her peace of mind, didn’t she? When Mary reached Elizabeth’s house we know that the sound of Mary’s voice caused Elizabeth’s baby to leap within her womb and Elizabeth cries, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?…Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord said to her will be accomplished.”
Isn’t that beautiful? Don’t you love those moments when God erases your doubts with confirmation from other believers? Oh! To be reassured that her news was true by Elizabeth’s words and the FACT that at least one of the things the angel told her was unquestionably true, must have been exciting and wonderful.
But Mary’s story wasn’t all confirmation from others, green lights to proceed, and joyful experiences. I’m not a Biblical scholar, and I’m not about to do a bunch of research this beautiful afternoon, so if I’m wrong y’all deal with me gently. BUT I don’t think Joseph and Mary were married yet when they made the trek to Bethlehem for the census. And if they were not technically married, I don’t think Mary would have been required to go with him to register….And (if I’m right) I think that says a lot about her and her relationship to Joseph.
First, as a young girl about to have her first baby, close to her due date, don’t you imagine it would have been much more comfortable to stay at home–close to her mother and other experienced women–to await the arrival of her son? I’m 3 weeks from my due date, and this past weekend I was too nervous to travel by CAR to ATLANTA (I think they have a hospital or two there) with my husband of eight years who has delivered a baby or two and at least has a medical degree. How much do you think Joseph the carpenter knew about birthing babies? And how comfortable could an engaged VIRGIN feel at the thought of her betrothed witnessing/helping with her delivery? That girl had some FAITH in a big GOD to take care of her! Does any other neurotic, protective, hypochondriac pregnant lady want to give me an Amen?!
And then the discomfort of the journey itself…I’m seriously considering skipping the couple of hours of family Christmas carroling in the horse and buggy, in the cold, that my family is doing Friday night. I can’t imagine how I would respond if Jeremiah asked me to hop on the back of a bouncy donkey and take a journey for a couple of DAYS. Do you think Mary had to pack food and feed them both along the way? My back and my brain hurt\ just thinking about it.
Despite all the fear and work and discomfort, she followed her soon-to-be husband. She trusted God first and Joseph second to care for her and the miraculous baby growing inside of her. What a testament to me as a wife.
But then what happened? Don’t you know Mary was hoping and praying she would make it back to the safety of her home before the baby came? Don’t you know she prayed and prayed along this journey, just like she had on her way to see Elizabeth? “God, please, PLEASE keep Jesus and me safe. Lord I hate to be picky, but it will be embarrassing and scary to have this baby without any other women to help me–to tell me what to do. Please don’t let Joseph have to see me like THAT before he even marries me. But Lord, if it’s your will for me to have Jesus in Bethlehem, I’m trusting that you’ll take care of the details.”
Don’t you know, as those pains started coming closer together, and Joseph knocked on door after door without finding a place for her to even lie down, that Mary had to start doubting…everything. At least, I know that would have been my tendency. It’s easy to trust God when things are going right, when circumstances and other believers confirm His hand on our life, but what about when things don’t “go right”? Our tendency is to doubt ourselves–maybe we misheard His will–first, then we can start doubting Him–the goodness of the God who IS love.
Mary hadn’t misheard God, despite how bleak it must have seemed to her on that cold night. She couldn’t have realized it at the time, but she was fulfilling every. single. prophecy that had been made about the Christ-child, and ultimately God took care of His son and the obedient vessel He had chosen to deliver him safely into the world.
That’s why my favorite verse for this Christmas is the one that I wrote at the start of this post. I have a picture I took of Jeremiah from my hospital bed just minutes after Pace (our first baby) was born. There is no doubting the look on his face, or the feeling in his heart in that moment. I had been carrying this tiny child, feeling her move, and hiccup, and grow within me for 9 months. I had slowly come to realize the truth of the miracle that is bringing new life into the world over those countless hours, but Jeremiah had not. I think it’s true for most Daddies. The reality of the miracle that’s happening doesn’t manifest itself for them until delivery. And then, the wonder hits them all at once.
I imagine Mary, after all those months of believing God and carrying that secret within her, after the doubt and fear of an unplanned birth–finally holding her miracle safely in her arms. The confirmation of the shepherds and their witness of the heavenly host of angels singing about their joy over her baby’s birth. It must have felt, in an immensely magnified way, something like what I felt snapping that picture of Jeremiah from my bed. God is good! He was right! He used me! And now everybody else understands this joy I’ve been carrying all by myself…
“And Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19
There are memories from our past that our hearts call us back to again and again. They are triggered by inconsequential moments–a song, a taste, a touch, a smell, or even a flash of color–and suddenly we are back, hugging that page of memories close to our chest. Our minds retreat to a beloved nook in our heart, and we leaf through the fragile vellum pages of a distant memory. We smile to ourselves at the secret–the unrecreatable happiness that makes our insides quiver–leafing through it again, desperate not to damage the pages.
When we decide we want company in our beloved nook, we always come away disappointed. No matter how well placed the words, we cannot conjure in the mind of another the feelings only spoken by our hearts. That language is mutually exclusive–for us alone. Perhaps akin to the mutterings the Holy Spirit makes on our behalf.
Why is it that the feeling is never as intense in the moment of occurrence as it is when we ponder it from afar? Are we ungrateful, selfish creatures by nature who cannot know what we have until distance has gilded its edges? Does prolonged contact with reality, in all its painful forms, make us more appreciative of what we once held with careless ease? Or is it simply that we have yet to be granted the capacity to truly live in the present?
I don’t know the answers, but I do know that the Christmas season–with all its magical remembrances–always brings these thoughts back to me. As we unwrap cherished ornaments from our childhood, bake cookies from our grandmothers’ time-honored recipes, walk by the piney freshness of our Christmas trees, and sing songs that teachers from long ago wrote on our memories–I pray that you’ll take the time to retreat to your inner nook and cherish the time-worn pages.
{The first two pictures in this post are from last Christmas, when we were in Seattle. We went on a hike in the mountains and cut down our own tree…as hilarious as the end result was 🙂 If you’d care to see more, you can find that post here.
This Christmas, since Jeremiah couldn’t create a memory in a snow-covered wood, he decided we’d (along with Popon–his Dad–who has the buggy and the Clydesdales) hitch up the horse and buggy and drive a couple of miles to our local tree dealer. That’s the second two pictures. Since this post is about how memories are always more beautiful in the past than the present moment, I’ll show you some of the more “real” shots from the day too :)}
We were on back country roads MOST of the time, but as we approached the intersection with a four lane highway, I started to feel a little uneasy. Took some faith to trust those horses to stop on red!
Pretty sure this farmer thought we had lost our ever-loving minds as we pulled into his establishment by buggy.
However, he was in the process of making cane syrup the old fashioned way, so maybe he understood our intentions a little bit.
I just finished reading Little House in the Big Woods to the girls, so it was pretty amazing to show them the process first hand--and let them taste the fresh squeezed cane juice.
What it would have become after Ma boiled it down.
Jeremiah and I decided that once through a busy intersection with small children and a pregnant wife was enough excitement for one day. The second time through, Jeremiah walked out in front of the wagon--not sure if he was planning to one arm the on-coming traffic in case of emergency, or what?
Not a site you see EVERY day.
He jumped back in on the other side of the red light. (That's Mrs. Ohs, by the way. Our dear friend who Jeremiah lived with for a year in Montana--still sipping on her cane juice.)
And we put the girls back in for the country roads home. Wonder what adventure he'll come up with for our Christmas tree next year 🙂