Disclaimer: I do not own the Bible--that's God's holy word, breathed
by Him, living in Him.
The sun was shining, sending glints of glimmering light across the acres of sand, causing a pallid, coarse gritty taste to the tongue, and a ethereal stillness to permeate the air. The small city looked normal enough, with a bustling marketplace flung below a blue, cloudless sky, mulled with many ethnic people. But there was something not of the ordinary...
For on the outskirts of the market, ran a girl, shrouded in the bluest robin blue, her hair carefully concealed behind a modest veil. She seemed intent on some purpose, and her step had quickness in its beat that did not ask for comment.
Her name was Mary, and she was fourteen.
Upon closer consideration of the lone figure and her brown eyes, one could see she moved with decisiveness, not dithering nor wavering to the quizzical faces who peeped at her as she strode resolutely past. For they saw that, like a virgin, she wore the veil of chastity, but yet her abdomen was shockingly swollen.
Then, as the crowd of onlookers watched with increasing interest, she seemed to falter-as if wondering to go on, or turn back, as if some horror awaited her at the end of the long, deserted street.
For indeed, Mary paused on the last stone step, awkwardly juggling the earthen pot and her pregnant belly. For a second she staggered, almost falling, twisting her ankle painfully and gasping aloud when it wrenched beneath her.
But it was ill compared to what lay ahead.
Her betroled, Joseph, was due home today from his long journey--he would want to visit with her, question her on wedding plans--and how could she explain the soft protruding lump of her midriff?
Everything she had said to her parents had fallen on deaf ears as their anger had blazed, a fiery fervency of stern, horrendous phrases.
"You impudent girl! You harlot!" They screamed, and she had felt so small then, so insignificant to the great patchwork quilt of God's plan. However, she had endured it all thinking of Joseph's strong arms and stern, loving eyes.
She had tried to tell them what had happened, of the beautiful angel with downy-white feathers who had visited, and of the babe to be born that was blessed of God, given of God, to be named Jesus, Emmanuelle--Savior of the earth.
But stilled they raged, not trusting, beating her with their thoughtless tangents--and she had been forced to keep the secrete inside herself, abet small kindle of comfort and relief from their biting words.
And O, what would Joseph think?
When but a slip of a girl, no more then thirteen, he had come into her life, a God-send from the harshness and vulgarity of her family, and she had fallen for him instantly. He was everything she could have wished for in life--loyal, loving, and most of all a Godly man for her to depend on.
Would she loose him now?
Shaking herself, Mary paused in thought to pear down the narrow street that lead to Josephs house. She quickened her steps, for noon was soon approaching, and their was much work to be done.
God would provide.
She trusted him.
So she walked while the beat of her sandals clapped loudly on the cobblestone path-stopping only when she came to the hollow of his blanketed door.
Knocking timidly, while consciously holding the earthen pot near her middle, she tired to hide her budding pregnancy. Secretly, she knew Joseph would see through her thin layer of protection, he was strong, and she loved him--therefore he must be made to understand!
All too soon the door was thrown wide, and Mary looked on the shining face of her beloved, her sad brown eyes sparkling with tears in the sunlight.
"Mary! Come in, come in!" He ushered her inside, sat her down on a soft blanket, and smiled at her from across the room.
"J-Joseph..." She faltered, torn.
It was then he noticed something was wrong. For one crazed second the walls tilted, and he ran to her, kneeling at her feet, taking her small, lifeless hand into his own, wishing to remove the hurt that so wracked her thin body.
"J-Joseph..."
"Yes, Mary, my love?"
Absentmindedly he took the pot from her hands, not hearing her gasp, as he turned and placed it on a nearby stool. Then he saw, with a hurt and wounded countenance, placing his wide imperious eyes on hers.
His love was pregnant.
He stared, started; as cold grew his heart--studding the lithe woman in front of him, whose downcast eyes were mottled with sheens of tears.
"Who has defiled you, my love?" He said frigidly, voice flat and emotionless. She was slightly round with babe, but lovely none the less, her brown hair long, dangling beneath the veil she wore, her lips lightly parted in innocents.
"No one has forced this thing upon me." She said, "God...s-sent His heavenly angle from above, and told me not to be afraid, I was to ba-bare a child, and name him Jesus." Mary glanced up now, a single droplet of watery liquid flowing down her face, her dark eyes searching the man before her for some shred of truth and seeing only confusion.
Horror filled Joseph, unspeakable, passionate horror and he shook like a frightened leaf, pacing his home, while his stone heart ate at the pit of his stomach. HOW could she? How...could...she?
--the questions plagued him.
"I will divorce you quietly." He finally softly uttered, as the world around him seemed wrought with doubt, torn to glittering pieces about his feet.
Mary trembled, tears smearing her vision, clouding the room, and she nodded, silently, knowing that he did not believe her, that he took her for a harlot.
Through it all, she had bore her families hatred, their sneers and disbelieving remarks, the curious glances of passersby, the jeers of her friends and peers. But Joseph, her loving to-be husband? That tore at her thin little heart with deep cutting jabs.
"I-I...still care for you, Joseph." Mary whispered, as she fled the room, forgetting the jar on the rough hewn table, forgetting, indeed, everything around her except for her sorrow, and her zeal for God, that He would think her strong enough to withstand this trial.
Somehow God would provide.
Somehow...everything would be alright.
The sun was shining, sending glints of glimmering light across the acres of sand, causing a pallid, coarse gritty taste to the tongue, and a ethereal stillness to permeate the air. The small city looked normal enough, with a bustling marketplace flung below a blue, cloudless sky, mulled with many ethnic people. But there was something not of the ordinary...
For on the outskirts of the market, ran a girl, shrouded in the bluest robin blue, her hair carefully concealed behind a modest veil. She seemed intent on some purpose, and her step had quickness in its beat that did not ask for comment.
Her name was Mary, and she was fourteen.
Upon closer consideration of the lone figure and her brown eyes, one could see she moved with decisiveness, not dithering nor wavering to the quizzical faces who peeped at her as she strode resolutely past. For they saw that, like a virgin, she wore the veil of chastity, but yet her abdomen was shockingly swollen.
Then, as the crowd of onlookers watched with increasing interest, she seemed to falter-as if wondering to go on, or turn back, as if some horror awaited her at the end of the long, deserted street.
For indeed, Mary paused on the last stone step, awkwardly juggling the earthen pot and her pregnant belly. For a second she staggered, almost falling, twisting her ankle painfully and gasping aloud when it wrenched beneath her.
But it was ill compared to what lay ahead.
Her betroled, Joseph, was due home today from his long journey--he would want to visit with her, question her on wedding plans--and how could she explain the soft protruding lump of her midriff?
Everything she had said to her parents had fallen on deaf ears as their anger had blazed, a fiery fervency of stern, horrendous phrases.
"You impudent girl! You harlot!" They screamed, and she had felt so small then, so insignificant to the great patchwork quilt of God's plan. However, she had endured it all thinking of Joseph's strong arms and stern, loving eyes.
She had tried to tell them what had happened, of the beautiful angel with downy-white feathers who had visited, and of the babe to be born that was blessed of God, given of God, to be named Jesus, Emmanuelle--Savior of the earth.
But stilled they raged, not trusting, beating her with their thoughtless tangents--and she had been forced to keep the secrete inside herself, abet small kindle of comfort and relief from their biting words.
And O, what would Joseph think?
When but a slip of a girl, no more then thirteen, he had come into her life, a God-send from the harshness and vulgarity of her family, and she had fallen for him instantly. He was everything she could have wished for in life--loyal, loving, and most of all a Godly man for her to depend on.
Would she loose him now?
Shaking herself, Mary paused in thought to pear down the narrow street that lead to Josephs house. She quickened her steps, for noon was soon approaching, and their was much work to be done.
God would provide.
She trusted him.
So she walked while the beat of her sandals clapped loudly on the cobblestone path-stopping only when she came to the hollow of his blanketed door.
Knocking timidly, while consciously holding the earthen pot near her middle, she tired to hide her budding pregnancy. Secretly, she knew Joseph would see through her thin layer of protection, he was strong, and she loved him--therefore he must be made to understand!
All too soon the door was thrown wide, and Mary looked on the shining face of her beloved, her sad brown eyes sparkling with tears in the sunlight.
"Mary! Come in, come in!" He ushered her inside, sat her down on a soft blanket, and smiled at her from across the room.
"J-Joseph..." She faltered, torn.
It was then he noticed something was wrong. For one crazed second the walls tilted, and he ran to her, kneeling at her feet, taking her small, lifeless hand into his own, wishing to remove the hurt that so wracked her thin body.
"J-Joseph..."
"Yes, Mary, my love?"
Absentmindedly he took the pot from her hands, not hearing her gasp, as he turned and placed it on a nearby stool. Then he saw, with a hurt and wounded countenance, placing his wide imperious eyes on hers.
His love was pregnant.
He stared, started; as cold grew his heart--studding the lithe woman in front of him, whose downcast eyes were mottled with sheens of tears.
"Who has defiled you, my love?" He said frigidly, voice flat and emotionless. She was slightly round with babe, but lovely none the less, her brown hair long, dangling beneath the veil she wore, her lips lightly parted in innocents.
"No one has forced this thing upon me." She said, "God...s-sent His heavenly angle from above, and told me not to be afraid, I was to ba-bare a child, and name him Jesus." Mary glanced up now, a single droplet of watery liquid flowing down her face, her dark eyes searching the man before her for some shred of truth and seeing only confusion.
Horror filled Joseph, unspeakable, passionate horror and he shook like a frightened leaf, pacing his home, while his stone heart ate at the pit of his stomach. HOW could she? How...could...she?
--the questions plagued him.
"I will divorce you quietly." He finally softly uttered, as the world around him seemed wrought with doubt, torn to glittering pieces about his feet.
Mary trembled, tears smearing her vision, clouding the room, and she nodded, silently, knowing that he did not believe her, that he took her for a harlot.
Through it all, she had bore her families hatred, their sneers and disbelieving remarks, the curious glances of passersby, the jeers of her friends and peers. But Joseph, her loving to-be husband? That tore at her thin little heart with deep cutting jabs.
"I-I...still care for you, Joseph." Mary whispered, as she fled the room, forgetting the jar on the rough hewn table, forgetting, indeed, everything around her except for her sorrow, and her zeal for God, that He would think her strong enough to withstand this trial.
Somehow God would provide.
Somehow...everything would be alright.