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She was just an ordinary girl.  She looked like all the rest of the girls in the neighborhood.  She was not exceptionally smart, not exceptionally beautiful.  She wore the same clothes, sang the same songs, probably giggled at the same silly jokes.  (She was, after all a teenage girl).  For the most part, she was indistinguishable from the crowd… But he found her anyway.

The stranger waited until she was alone.  She was immersed in her work and was startled by his greeting.

“Hail Mary, full of grace.  Blessed art thou amongst women.”

She blushed as he whispered secrets to her that had been hidden since the foundation of the world.

“Oh, that it would be as you have said.”

I always think of her at Christmas.  I imagine her to be a willing,yet bewildered woman, as she faced the possible rejection of her community.  I imagine as the babe within her womb grew, that her circle of friends grew smaller, until it was just her,and Joseph.  And though, he tried to be understanding, even he seemed to be distant at times, as he grappled with the reality they faced.

I think of her, being honored to birth this gift to the world.  What an incredible high to know that she alone was chosen. The euphoria she felt as the babe leapt in her belly.  The joy she felt every time she received confirmation from the heavens.

In contrast, there were extreme lows: bearing the evidence of a sin she never committed, the loneliness of having no one with whom she could share her magnificent secret, and all of that on top of the aches, pains and morning sickness of a normal pregnancy.

I think of her, tired from a long journey, going to sleep in the only shelter she could find, only to be awakened by labor pains.  I imagine her looking proudly down at her beautiful baby, and in that same moment feeling shame as the first visitors arrived to the stable.  Here this child is being heralded by angels, and yet she could only afford to dress him in strips of cloth and lay him down in a feeding trough.

I imagine her to be a nervous wreck as most new mothers are.  I bet she wondered if she was feeding him too much or too little.  I bet she wondered if she needed more blankets to ward off the night chill.  I bet she was hoping that the strangers, and the animals would keep their distance and not expose her newborn to too many germs.

I always think of her at Christmas.

Her blessing, her gift to the world, would also prove to be her biggest burden.  He would break her heart a thousand times.  She would fret over fevers and the bumps and bruises that come from adolescence.  She would nearly faint from grief as she watched him hang from a tree.

This child, her promise from God, the gift she received, was also the source of so much sadness…

i think of her at Christmas and am always reminded that she and her Beloved Son, are exactly the models to follow when bearing my own burdensome gifts.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Mary Christmas!

Mama Radford