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The days were growing longer, but the air during the day was still far too cold to suit Mary. Despite living in a desert climate, the winter’s temperatures often dipped below freezing at night and the days never got warm enough this time of year to venture outside without at least the benefit of a sweater.
She missed summer. Well, at least the flowers and vibrant rainbows in bright colors that paint the landscapes and gardens with such broad, vivid strokes. As for the heat when the thermometer crept into triple digits — she was grateful for the miracle of air conditioning.
Looking out the kitchen window of her apartment, she noticed one of neighbors heading off to work as usual. It reminded her to check the classifieds again today. They were always larger on Mondays. Perhaps they’d be more promising than the weekend.
Her mind flashed back to her last conversation with Thelma Pruitt that manager of the card shop at the mall where Mary had worked till last Friday. Lay off was a word she hadn’t needed to hear, but it was a reality of life in a sagging economy.
Fortunately, she had never been extravagant and between her savings and unemployment she would get by till the Lord opened another employment door somewhere else. It wasn’t the first time she had faced that reality since graduating High School a couple of years ago.
Thank goodness she would rely upon her mother and father not to give her one of those "I told you so" lectures like some parents. They would understand about this crisis just as they in so many other situations. Love for them included compassion and tolerance, even if their eyes betrayed other feelings during one of "those" parental conversations.
True, when she announced she was going on a missionary trip after graduating from High School instead of college it had caused raised eyebrows. However, they were both God fearing folk and would hardly be the type to question His call upon anyone’s life.
It was a pity that she had gotten sick and was forced to come home prematurely, thus ending her dreams of a life in full time Christian service in some distance land. Since then, she had drifted for a while from one job to another, served in her local church and volunteered from time to time to help out at the local rescue mission. Not exactly the kind of life that got one’s picture on the cover of People magazine, but it worked for her.
Inside, it seemed like she had always felt an abiding sense that somewhere in the future God had a special purpose for her life. She knew that the Lord had a plan for everyone’s life, but her sense told her that in her case, that plan meant something more than being another humble servant of the Lord. Mary just knew deep down her life had a destiny other than most. It was a feeling she kept to herself most of the time, even after the pastor of her church devoted a whole series of Sunday messages on the how everyone was important in God’s eyes.
It was this vision of something bigger lying yet to be fulfilled that was part of what kept her from following the path of conformity like so many others she knew. In High School, although she had dated and done her best to fit in, unlike some of her girl friends she had resisted the urge to become sexually active. Such choices kept her from being as popular as she might have wanted, but at least she didn’t end up pregnant like too many teenage girls these days.
The phone rang, interrupting her reflections on life. That would be Joseph. No doubt to check with her about tonight. She sat down the potato peeler and walked to answer the phone.
"Hello? Hi. Yes, pizza sounds fine. No, I haven’t had a chance to look yet. Yes, I agree the Lord will provide. Thanks, I’m praying too."
Hanging up the phone, she couldn’t help allowing a small smile to spread over her normally serene, yet often transfixed face. Joseph was such a wonderful man. He would be a great husband. Despite already being in his thirties and sadly a widower, she just knew he would be the perfect spouse for her. It was a feeling God had confirmed for her on more than one occasion.
Somewhere in their family trees, they were related way back in another generation. Both were descendants from royalty in the distant past. It wasn’t a source of much pride these days, since the current crop of family members were mainly working types without any evidence of being rich or regal in any way.
Joseph was no exception. Being a construction worker wasn’t always an easy way to make a living and he did have plenty of times when the weather or the lack of work didn’t allow him a day’s wage, but she had to admit she did love him anyway. By summer, when things improved for both of them, they would get married and find a place to call home and —she let herself dream again. It wasn’t the first time her hopes for a blessed life had crept into her brain and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Walking back over to the kitchen sink, she finished peeling the potatoes and then sliced them for scalloped potatoes. It was her good deed project for the day, fixing it as part of a meal for her cousin, Elizabeth. Poor soul was expecting and could use all the help she could get with things like meals. Being a pastor’s wife gave her enough of a burden in life, but having a baby in three months would be both a blessing and challenge that was for sure. Mary didn’t mind helping though. After all, Elizabeth was her favorite relative.
"Oh there he was again," Mary said to herself. The man jogging down the street in his blue workout clothes had moved into her complex only last week. He was a strange sort of fellow from her point of view. Average looking enough for the most part with a nice head of curly dark hair. Yet, there was one thing Mary didn’t like though. His deep, intense blue eyes had that uncomfortable ability to look right through a person. It was sort of like her Tenth Grade History teacher, Ms. Watkins, who had that annoying talent with just a glance to know when she hadn’t done her homework.
The man was fortunately a quiet neighbor, which was unusual for a guy that she thought to be in his 20’s, polite from what Mary had see. She understood he work as a salesman of some kind, water she thought or food perhaps. In either case, he was an improvement over the last neighbor. Drugs had never been her cup of tea and she was grateful to have that problem gone now that the guy who had lived there before this current tenant had managed to peddle his drugs to an undercover cop.
Odd, now the jogger was back again. It was sort of a short run for him this time. And he was coming to her door. Well, he did seem harmless enough. Maybe he was inspired to try and make a sale while doing so much running. Pity if that was the case, this was hardly the time for anyone to expect her to spend extra money.
The knock at the door was firm, yet not so loud to suggest he was one of those "in your face" kinds of pushy salesmen that Mary truly hated. Opening the door, she smiled. "Yes?"
"Hi. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important. I was just wondering if you would mind me chatting with you for a couple of minutes."
"Well, I imagine that would be okay, only I hope you are here to sell anything, I’m really not interested in —"
"Oh it’s nothing like that I can assure you."
"Okay then, please come in," Mary replies, allowing him to enter and take a seat on the living room couch. "May I offer you something to drink?"
"No. Thank you. What I have to say won’t take up too much of your time, I promise, Mary."
"Mary? How did you know my name, I don’t recall —"
"It’s one of my little talents."
"Oh so you are a psychic? I have to be honest I don’t really believe in —"
The man breaks into a wide smile. "No, I’m not a psychic. I am something a little more intuitive. You see, I’m an Angel."
"An Angel?" Mary feels a sudden urge to panic. She starts to reach for the phone to dial 911, but the man’s eyes are just so calming and reassuring. "Er, I’m not a theologian, but I’ve don’t recall ever reading anything in the scriptures about Angels sweating. So I hope you won’t think me —"
"That’s just for appearance’s sake. Part of this assignment, which will end after our conversation."
"Oh? Sounds very mysterious."
The jogger nods. "It could be. Now, the reason for my visit is a simple one, actually. I was sent to let you know that God has chosen you for a very special purpose. All your life you have dreamed of this and now I’m here to let you know you were right the whole time. You are to become the mother of his Son. The life has already been created within you. He shall be the Messiah promised who shall deliver the world from sin and death."
"The Messiah," Mary says, in a slow deliberate tone of skepticism. It was one thing to fantasize about being special, but this — "Me, a mother? But I’ve never even had — I mean, this all seems —" she struggles to say, tempted to dial 911 again.
"With God all things are possible. I’m here to let you know that regardless of what happens or others think, the Lord will watch over you. Have faith and be assured that what the Most High has done is a blessing."
"But —" is all that Mary can utter before the man’s image fades from view. She quivers briefly and then does a mental inventory, Drugs? No, she ruled that out. Caffeine? No, not enough to produce that kind of hallucination. Bad fruit? Now she was being silly.
Inside, Mary felt a stew of brewing emotions. She was excited and afraid all at the same time. It reminded her of the way she felt when riding the roller coaster at the amusement park. The question was what to do first? Picking up the phone, she dialed the familiar number, hoping for answers.
A few minutes later, she sat in the Pastor’s study, relieved and thrilled for having the prudence to talk to him before anyone else. After all, if there is one person that could be considered to be an expert on Angels it would certainly be a man of the cloth.
The door to the Pastor’s study closed in Mary’s face much sooner than she had hoped. Between the tugs at his collar and clearing of his throat, it was obvious to Mary that he hadn’t believed a word she had said. However, it was his lack of eye contact that had hurt the most considering how long she had gone to his church. When he ushered her out of the room so abruptly muttering along the way that perhaps she might be better off seeking a more professional type of help, she knew this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. His door being shut in her face just before he told her that she wouldn’t need to worry about helping out in the nursery on Sundays any more was not the kind of loving, compassion she expected.
The next week, things didn’t improve. Efforts to tell her parents the good news brought her first encounter at their lack of willingness to be as understanding as usual. When her mom picked her up for lunch and then deposited her at a Psychologist’s office, she really felt depressed. The man was hardly helpful with his offer to give her a prescription for mood altering medications and make a appointment for her to visit to the family planning clinic to discuss abortion. His promise to try and keep her news out of the papers didn’t improve her sense that visiting him had been a bad idea.
Telling Joseph her news was hardly the easiest chore in the world. His face was cold and puzzled and she worried for a while if he would even call her on the phone after he left her apartment. The idea of her being pregnant was bad enough, but that she was still a virgin was even harder for her to explain. He actually coped with the Messiah part quite well considering. At least, his words said he had.
She was so relieved when the phone rang and she heard his voice again. "Everything was going to be okay," were words that flowed from his mouth and over her soul like a hot, refreshing shower. Curiosity had reared its ugly head and made her asked what had made him decide everything was going to be okay. Prayer? Soul searching? Hopefully not some therapist. Love? That would be the perfect answer.
The comment about having a strange conversation with a hitchhiker that he had picked up dressed, as a jogger wasn’t the reply she wanted to hear. As the icy spikes crept up and down her spine, she shook her head. It was her fault she had to ask.
Life had hardly improved over the next week. Sunday at church had been so painful to her spirit. Even with Joseph by her side, the stares and whispers were like an acid that left too many scars on her memories. Having he pastor preach on the evils of premarital sex didn’t help either. And then, the subtle comments by several people that offered up helpful hints of places better suited to the spiritual needs of couples such as Mary and Joseph were the final insult.
In the city clerk’s office, the marriage ceremony was brief and nothing like Mary had hoped for her wedding. Her parents had attended, as had Joseph’s. A toaster and microwave oven were thoughtful gifts. It was the lack of discussion on the subject of kids that left her feeling empty.
Although Joseph continued to be supportive and loving, she had needed more. Most of all she had wanted a mother’s ear or at least those of another mature female to help her deal with the fears and worries about the pregnancy. Someone to understand in a special way instead of simply giving her web sites to find help with issues of natural childbirth and medical care during her pregnancy.
Thank goodness for her cousin, Elizabeth. She was one shoulder to cry on that was a true godsend. Mary always left her cousin’s home feeling much better and the phone became a lifeline to her emotional survival during the next few months.
As her due date approached, Mary had managed to convince herself that everything was finally returning to normal. The reporters had stopped calling or showing up at her door at all hours. She was able to go to the grocery store without having all eyes stare at her like she was the Elephant Man. And Joseph had even succeeded in finding a church for them to attend where people’s eyes and actions didn’t make liars of their words. It had taken several Sundays, but he had persisted, never giving up his belief that God had a place somewhere for them to worship.
Both of them always resisted the urge to say anything on the subject of Angels when it came up during the service. They had found out the hard way that even believers were inclined towards bouts of skepticism when someone shared having personally encountered an Angel. As for the whole subject of the Messiah, well, it might have worked for the prophets to talk about His coming, but no one wanted to accept the idea of a woman actually claiming to be the one chosen to give birth to mankind’s future deliverer.
Checking the calendar, Mary was filled with a natural twinge of both dread and anticipation. Her due date was only a couple days away and she had done everything she could to get ready. Joseph’s medical insurance was decent and they had already set up arrangements with the local hospital. Yes, things were going to be okay after all.
Joseph’s face when he came home that evening meant only one thing — bad news. He might have a smile, but is his eyes could never hide the truth. This was not the time to be told he was out of work. His company had lost its building contract and there wouldn’t be any work for at least two months. God may have chosen Mary to be the mother for his Son, but apparently that didn’t guarantee a steady paycheck. Mary bit her lip to scold herself for the passing doubts over the Lord’s ability to help them survive.
Joseph took her hand and told her that the good news was he did find work. Only it was miles away back in his hometown. It meant they had to leave right away if they were going to get there in time for him to start the first of the week. Although traveling wasn’t the best idea in her condition, he didn’t have a choice. The job wouldn’t be available if they waited till after the baby was born. Pushing aside the chaos of fears over the unknown, together, they held hands and prayed that the trip would be a safe one.
Packing up their meager possessions that evening brought plenty of help from the neighbors. Joseph and Mary sensed that the neighbor’s aid was more out of sense of relief to finally be rid of "those" people. Nevertheless, they accepted the extra hands and waved good-bye in gratitude in their used pick up, towing the trailer full of furniture.
They reached Joseph’s hometown by night with Mary feeling extra weary, but doing her best not to complain. It was his first trip back home in years. He drove past the old High School remembering those times of his youth and daydreams of being an adult with the mantle of success adorning his life. Shifting his ten-year-old pick up truck after pulling away from the stop sign, he was glad it was nightfall in many ways. This wasn’t exactly the way he had expected to return home. Looking at Mary, he exhaled heavily, avoiding sharing the pain of disappointment of how life hadn’t blossomed the way he had hoped.
Dinner at the small local cafe had been nothing to brag about. And the eyes of the other customers made them aware that despite the passing of time and distance, people seldom forgot someone that had made the news as quacks and nut cases. It hurt to have to carry that kind of fame from town to town. However, Joseph’s strong hand, holding Mary’s and a few extra prayers gave both of the strength to keep going.
"Sorry, but I ain’t got no vacancies," the short, round motel clerk snorted while puffing on his stogie and scratching his two days growth of beard.
"But my wife, well you can see her condition —" Joseph persisted.
The man looked over at Mary, his face softening in the dimly lit office. "I really wish I had a room, but there’s a convention in town and we are honestly full up. I’m afraid that’s also true of the rest of the rooms on the strip."
Joseph lowers his eyes, dejected, but mainly worried about Mary’s condition. With his insurance expired and the new benefits not beginning for at least 90 days, he worried about the medical expense. It meant going to the county hospital and hoping they could get in. Not the easiest option from what he had heard.
He reaches out and grasps the man’s forearm. "Please. Can you help us at all?"
Finally, the man removes the cigar from his mouth. "Well, there is one option. I have the key to the little mechanic’s garage next door. The old guy that owns it is out of town for a few days and left me the key to watch over the place. It’s not the cleanest place, but there is a bed in the back where he lives and I’m sure he wouldn’t complain if I let you spend the night."
Joseph looks at Mary. She nods and he takes the key, whispering with tears in his eyes, "Thank you."
Turning on the light switch doesn’t help much to improve the appearance of the little garage. It causes the light bulb dangling from a thin wire in the middle of the room to come on. The old garage is cold, smells of grease and oil and feels cramped from the two old cars with their hoods up that take up most of the open space. At least the place allows them to have shelter and is out of the elements. Joseph helps Mary to the bed and then manages to light the heater. He sits down next to her on a chair, rubbing her hand, his eyes full of the reassurance of a love and faith that his words will never express any more eloquently.
She looks back at him and then suddenly winces with pain. Oh no, the baby is coming. Joseph doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know what is happening. He gets up and tries to use the phone to call the hospital, but there is no dial tone.
When he looks back at Mary, he can sense it wouldn’t matter anyway. The baby is coming and there isn’t any time for them to go anywhere. Walking back over to her side, he prepares to help, not totally sure of what to do, but refusing to panic.
The sounds of a baby’s cries fill the back room. Joseph sits on the chair, dutifully wiping Mary’s forehead of the beads of sweat as he wraps the baby in some clean rags that were sitting in a box in the corner. He hands her the child and then sits back, exhaling with relief that somehow, someway God had miraculously given him the ability to deliver the baby. There would be time later to ponder the mystery, for now, he was just grateful to see the small infant alive and acting so much like every other newborn.
There is the unexpected sound of intruding footsteps entering the garage work area. Joseph immediately gets up from the chair and turns to investigate. Near the cars, three men stand with bewildered looks on their faces and dressed in gray maintenance overalls.
"We were working our shift over at the mill when the strangest thing happened," the tallest of the three says. "This sweating guy dressed in a blue jogger’s outfit showed up out of nowhere and told us that the God’s Son had been born in this garage tonight. Then he just vanished. Afterwards there was this sound like a choir singing. So we came over and —"
Joseph shakes their hands and then escorts them quietly towards the doorway to the back room. They peer inside seeing the simple ordinary site of a woman and her newborn child, but there is just something more phenomenal about the image than they can explain. God is there, they know it is their bones even if they can’t explain it.
Mary looks are her baby in the way only a mother can see as she is consumed with an incredible sense of happiness. She can’t explain all the mysteries of life, nor why she herself had to go through all the events of the last few months. At the moment it all seems unimportant somehow as she caresses her young son’s tiny hand between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. Her face glows as she is spellbound with the awe of how his touch fills her essence with the incredible, incandescent gleam of God’s love.
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