Just Imagine

You know, God chooses to do things the hard way a lot, it seems. At least, it seems that way to me, in my life. I do say that once I agree, it becomes easier, because He enables me to do the task at hand.

So I figure He really had to stay close to Mary and Joseph though all that ordeal.

I often think about poor Mary. The backlash she must have experienced. How her parents must have felt when she told them she was pregnant.

Here she was, engaged, legally bound to this man, and the kid ain't his.

She's a teenager, and although that meant something very different then, she was still very young.

And poor Joseph. He must have been stunned. How could this be true (not that she was pregnant with God, but how could she have betrayed him?)

The decision he saw himself faced with. Stone her to death? No, he couldn't do that. Not to his Mary. Even if she had done this - this - horrible thing to him.

And how terrifying for him, for Gabriel to appear and tell him Mary really wasn't lying. She hadn't had sex with someone else. She was a vessel to carry the Son of God.

Mind blowing. Life altering.

Such relief Mary must have felt when Joseph came to her and stood by her side. Her parents probably felt relief, too. Embarrassed, sure, as Joseph's parents were. But they were legally bound, they'd made a mistake, and they were making it right by finishing up the marriage and giving this baby a name.

Or perhaps they believed. We don't know.

We do  know Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth, probably before she told Joseph.

And received confirmation when Elizabeth opened the door. She knew - and even more miraculous - the baby within her knew and lept for sheer joy!

If I'd been Mary, I probably would have thought, "It really is true! I'm not losing my mind!"

But Mary may have been much more secure in what God had said to her. Either way, the confirmation must have been very welcome.

And then comes the decree from the good old interfering government that everyone has to go to their ancestral home to be taxed.

Eighty miles, probably on foot, or maybe a donkey. And Mary so far into the pregnancy she must have been miserable after the first of those eighty miles.

Think of it ladies. When you were in the last month of your pregnancy, could you have walked eighty miles?

You know the story. Not a hotel room to be found. Finally someone took pity on them and offered them a stable where the animals were. At least they had a place to stop. Maybe there was clean hay and Joseph could try and make a bed for Mary.

She was in labor. Nobody there but her and Joseph, who probably wasn't exactly mid-wife material.

I know what would have been going through my mind, "At least I know the baby will live", because after all, He was God's son.

And poor, poor Joseph. Can you image how terrified he was?

And even after the baby was born, and Mary seemed like she would live, he had the daunting fact in front of him: Joseph would be responsible for being the earthly father to the Son of the Living God.

And that was just the beginning. No telling what they felt when that Heavenly host showed up

Merry Christmas, ya'll.

A Fan of My Fan

So much  has been happening lately, I've barely had time to think about it, much less write about it.

But one thing stands out, and I gotta write it down.

I had a book signing a few days ago. it was pouring rain, and I was a little concerned nobody would bother to come out in this cold wet mess.

I began to cry with the first person I saw.

No, I'm not being silly or dramatic. Here's the story behind the tears:

Every book signing I've ever had, Mrs. Defore has shown up. She was a tiny elderly woman. I had graduated high school with one of her daughters. Her daughters made sure she got there. She was always all dressed up, her eyes full of sparkle and excitement. She said she loved my books almost as much as she loved me and couldn't wait to start reading. 

I always found myself watching for her out of the corner of my eye, as I was turning into her biggest fan.

Mrs. Defore passed away last year. As soon as I heard the news, my heart broke a little. I knew I wouldn't be seeing her eager happiness at my next book signing.

So when I looked up and saw her daughter walking down the sidewalk, I began to weep.

As she came though the door she, too, began to cry and we just held each other for a moment.

"Mother loved you and your books so much. There was just no way I could not come today. I want a book, and I want you to sign it in memory of her."

I wrote, "In memory of my beloved friend Jewel"

Suddenly, even if no one else turned up (which, thank goodness, they did), my day was worth it.

I miss you, Jewel Defore.