This is a story based around Mary in the Bible and imagining things from her point of view. I don't want to take too much liberty with the Bible, and nothing is 100% what she actually thought and said.
It's simply what I imagine as I sit and think about Mary.
“But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
The weather that night was so insignificant in light of everything else she promptly forgot whether it was cold or hot. The things that stood out in her mind were the details - the smell of fresh hay mixing with the musty, dirty scent of animals. The incredible clearness of the night sky. Her husband wrapping his tired and blistered feet after their long journey. The look in his eyes - A mix of fear and the responsibility ahead, disappointment in his inability to provide more than a stable, and awe at what had just taken place.
Even more, the details of her new son. The silky dark hair, the incredibly fine eyelashes and dark nearly but nearly invisible brows. The tiniest of finger and toenails. The unbelievable softness of his face that she couldn’t stop touching. The warm puffs of new breath on her hand as she memorized his features.
She couldn’t remember any pain or discomfort from her journey or experience - she knew it had happened because it was forever engraved in her and Joseph’s mind. Perhaps it was her joy and relief at the safe delivery of her son. Perhaps it was the mighty hand of God, relieving her of her memories of pain best put away. What she did remember was how soft the hay felt under her exhausted body, how attentive her young husband was, bringing her blankets and cool water. How she couldn’t stop staring at the tiniest of miracles. Her miracle.
She remembered his hand wrapped around her finger, how peacefully he slept, and how for a minute, he wasn’t the Messiah, he was simply her baby son. She was filled with more joy then she would ever know, and it was as if a multitude of angels joined the song of her heart “Glory to God in the highest.”
She was aware of God’s presence in the midst of everything. In every breath she took, in every cry of the night, He was there looking out for them and he too was aware of every detail of the child.
It was that night that changed everything.
They were sitting there studying and touching this tiny miracle when the shepherds showed up. How many there were was never clear to her, but they bowed, and they worshipped him, her son. They knew what she and Joseph knew - The Messiah had come in the form of the most innocent of humans. A baby. Her baby. The Messiah, the King of Kings was nestled warm and asleep in her arms.
She was aware of the look in Joseph’s eyes, one of love, but also recognition that he had no tie to this child other than the man who would raise him. The weight of that responsibility shone through the look in his determined eyes. He would do his best, and he would do well. Of that, she had no doubt.
Her son. So innocent, so peaceful, so beautiful. Did his Father guard his heart so he could sleep tonight? The weight of the world would fall heavy upon him soon enough. She remembered praying “Lord, for tonight, let him be a baby. Let him be my baby boy. This peace will all be gone so soon.”
A simple carpenter and his young wife, raising the King of the world, God’s only begotten son. The responsibility was heavy, the privilege so great. She remembered how young she was, and how she loved her son - so much so, that she could never find the words to describe.
And now, she ponders these details she’s kept in her heart all these years yet again. Not the weather, but the star, not the pain, but the love. She watched his death, she saw them torture her baby boy. But oh how thankful she was for being chosen to raise him and getting to be a part of his life here on earth. Her baby? No, her Lord. Her Saviour and Redeemer. She simply bore and raised him. His life was of him and his father, not of her.
As John handed her a mug of cool water, a memory came flooding back to her. That memory of her Joseph bringing her some cool water on the night of Jesus’ birth.
“Joseph, look at him. Jesus. He’s here.”
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