A fictional depiction of the Christmas story from Mary’s perspective.
The journey was hard. It was rocky and steep in places. Poor Joseph had to stop for me so many times. Traveling so close to the baby’s time coming was not at all what we would have chosen. Joseph reminded me often that even though Caesar Augustus called for this census, it was really all in God’s hands. This baby was prophesied to be born in Bethlehem, so he will.
I was afraid sometimes, but I thought of how sure the angel was when he told me all that would happen, so I held on to those promises and knew it would all work out the way it should.
Bethlehem was so crowded. There were people everywhere from all over the region. For the first few nights, we slept out in the fields close to the village. There were encampments all around us. Joseph made friends with a man who owned a cave where he sheltered his animals. He was so kind to give Joseph some straw for me to sleep on so the ground wouldn’t be so hard. The day the pains started, I knew I couldn’t give birth in the midst of all these people. Joseph went to the Inn to try to get us a room. He begged the man, but there was no room for us there. We had almost given up any hope of having privacy when his friend with the cave offered it to us. I knew God would provide; I just didn’t know how.
We settled into the warm space. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than the field. The pains were coming closer together, so I knew it wouldn’t be long. I was so grateful I spent those months with Elizabeth so I would know what to expect when my time came. I wished she could have been with me then.
When it was time, it almost seemed like a dream. The baby came so fast and so easy, nothing like I had heard from other mothers. Before I knew it, he was in my arms. I took out the swaddling cloths I had prepared and wrapped him snugly in them. He was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. “I’m a mother now,” was all I kept saying to myself. Even though I knew this child was very different, he was still mine. The love that flooded my heart was overwhelming. My mother told me I would feel this way, but until I did, I couldn’t imagine it was so life-changing.
Joseph was so tender. He took this child in his arms, and the look of pure joy on his face made me cry. He thought I was in pain, but I told him I was so thankful for him through it all. I understood why God had chosen him to be Jesus’ father here on earth. Jesus, that’s the name the angel told us to give him. A name that everyone in Israel will know. They didn’t know it yet, but their Savior had been born.
The night was dark, and we laid Jesus in the manger filled with fresh hay. Joseph told me to rest and sleep, and he’d keep watch. I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I was awakened by several men outside the cave. Joseph stepped in front of the manger and me and asked the men what they wanted.
At first, we could hardly understand what they were saying. They were talking excitedly all at once. Finally, Joseph got them to calm down and explain one at a time why they were there. The story they finally told was almost unbelievable, but I knew it was true as soon as they said it.
They had seen one angel at first, and just that one angel had lit up the field as though it was daytime. He had told them that he came with good news that would bring great joy to all people. And then he told them that the Savior, the Messiah, had been born in Bethlehem. They were to look for a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths lying in a manger.
I sat there, taking in every word they spoke. The angel, the glory that shown as bright as the sun, then the angel army that burst into the sky. Warrior angels so fierce one would make a man fall as dead on his face, but they were singing with great joy proclaiming this good news. The very army of heaven was singing about my baby. I would think about their story throughout the years, especially during those first hard years as we ran from Herod into Egypt. This was one more proof that my child didn’t just belong to me but to all mankind.
Debbie's Perspective 