The Christmas Story from Mary's Viewpoint
19th Chisleu
December 15th
Because of one delay after another we were not able to go to the city of David to be taxed as soon as we had planned to. The most tragic is that my Mimi , grandma, went to be with her fathers.
She was so dear to me. I couldn’t bear to leave her when she was so low, but she passed away, so we will sadly depart after the funeral.
This will be all for now, for I want to take one last look at her calm, still face before we follow the bier to the grave site.
20th Chisleu
December 16th
I am not feeling very brave today even though the stars are
twinkling brightly in the otherwise black, early morning sky. Yosef is
loading Balaam, our donkey.
Somewhere, far, far away in a place called Bethlehem the stars are also shining, I suppose, but the track is so rough and dark between here and there.
There are treacherous mountains just a furlongs from the road we must take, and who know what kinds of animals might come prowling around at night.
It will take us many days to get there, and this is happening so close to when the baby is expected to arrive! I have never been far from home except for the
time I went to see Aunt Elisheva, and I dread this journey!
At least this time I will have Yosef with me! What a consolation! My deepest fear is for the Baby because I am so near the end. Oh, if only it would have
worked out to leave earlier! Will He be all right?
I know we will not be traveling alone but that is not much of a
consolation.
Cousin Abigail, who used to be my dearest friend, will be
in the company, but she has been cool and aloof since my condition
was revealed. I will add, however that that is—maybe? easier to handle than the
scathing remarks Shoshoni made to Tamara at the marketplace. I think
she knew I could have heard her!
My sister Hanalei claims Shoshoni has always been jealous of me,
but why? I am not that special! Some have called me sweet and pretty
but she is beautiful and sophisticated! Besides her father is a prosperous
merchant and we are so poor.
It has been such a trial how the villagers have shunned me the last
while, and whispered behind their hands.
I am so lonely for the merry prattle we aant’ats used to share when we met at the well each morning, but now everyone just falls silent or walks slowly away while
my eyes dolefully follow them. Oh well, it could be so much worse.
For some reason, and I am not sure why, it has not made that great of a difference that Yosef married me. Is it because of Yaakov? I probably shouldn’t have written that, yet I do know that someone is spreading rumors that Yosef is not the father. Obviously I am too far along for it to have happened since we were betrothed…
“They” have been saying that I was overtaken by a Roman soldier. They do ravage careless maidens at will especially while in a drunken stupor.
Of course that is so impossible! My parents would never let their daughters be alone if they had to be out at night!
My aleichem, (neighbors), could be making cutting remarks to my face but most of them don’t.
I mentioned Shoshoni, but really most of them don’t say so very much . . . in my presence, at least. Sometimes I fear that the Little One I care about so deeply may have to suffer much worse persecution than I, and oh how I yearn to protect Him!
Why do such thoughts come to me? Most people are confident that the Mashiach will be a glorious King and will rule with a scepter of gold. If that is the whole
truth, why would a poor talitha like me be asked to be His mother?
It is confusing. I am so inadequate for such a privilege, and awesome
responsibility!
I wish Imma could come along to Bethlehem. It would be such a
comfort. But, on the other hand, maybe it is better that she is not able.
She tends to worry so.
“Be sure to keep warm, and do not let yourself get too tired.”
She has told me that countless times, or so it seems. How can I
keep from getting tired? I am worn out already, and we have not even
begun! Imma is scurrying towards me with a nicely wrapped parcel of
food for the journey. I really must go assist her.
Mary rested her hand protectively on her rounded abdomen as she gazed apprehensively to the top of the mudbrick house. Joseph was up there somewhere, hard at work mending the roof before the latter rains descended. She wanted to talk to him. She tested her weight on the first rung of the ladder, then stepped higher. And higher. Soon her gentle brown eyes were peering over the top of the balustrade.
