This is a story I wrote in January, when I was struggling with a lot of wondering and waiting to see how 2018 would unfold. We had a writing prompt to describe what was going on in heaven before the incarnation. I expanded it into Mary’s story, because as I imagined what she might have been feeling before it all I felt very encouraged that waiting, though hard, can be a good thing, when we’re longing for God’s kingdom to come. It’s fun for me to look back from this place at the end of the year, when so many prayers of longing have manifested. I see God at work and am letting go of needing to know how his plans will unfold going forward. I feel a deep rest for my soul that I am incredibly thankful for.
“Waiting can be hard.”
The words stung Mary with a force that made her wince. She turned to face her grandmother, who glowed in the doorway, both from the setting sun and her predictable wild and mischievous smile. Mary turned back to the beans she was shelling.
Waiting was Mary’s whole life. She didn’t know what she could do but endure it. But somehow her grandmother’s smile made her feel like she was missing something.
Mary had been waiting to become a woman so she could marry her betrothed. He was a good man, they all said, Joseph the carpenter, which was good because Mary had no choice. Everything was all planned out. All there was left to do now was wait for him to take her home with him whenever he was ready. And yes, waiting was hard, especially when you’re that last of your friends to cross the threshold into womanhood and marry.
Mary’s grandmother had recently come to live with their family, because her husband had been killed. Mary felt incredibly awkward around her grandmother because of the pain surrounding it, and also because of her grandmother’s persistent joy.
That evening as the family huddled around their meager meal, Mary closed her eyes in prayer. She felt the dance of the flame that lit their home through closed eyelids. Mary savored the dance, feeling it beat inside her, unpredictable and free. Mary sighed, and a silent, wordless longing rose to her Maker. She wanted to dance like the flame, not to her own tune, or everyone else’s, but to her Maker’s. Mary knew Yahweh to be predictably surprising, like her grandmother.
When she finally opened her eyes, Mary could feel her grandmother’s gaze. Feeling bold she dared to lift her eyes and meet it, even smiled back into the loving face. Mary took a deep breath, one that was not a sigh, and savored the smells of her mother’s cooking, mixed with her father’s sweat. She pondered how much her little brother’s laugh sounded like the donkey’s bray. She wondered how many more nights like this she would share with them.
With that last thought Mary’s momentary joy vanished.
That evening as she lay upon her mat, Mary fixed her eyes upon the stars filling the window. It was her habit, how she prayed, with her eyes open and fixed on the greatness of the Maker. She knew all the stories: how Yahweh had spoken to Moses and led his people out of slavery with a cloud by day and fire by night. She knew the promise that He was coming back to rescue them again. Mary closed her eyes against the pain as she thought of her father’s many scars earned defending the innocent, of her grandfather’s death. When would help come again? More waiting! Mary turned her face to the wall and cried, silently, so as not to wake anyone in the tiny home. Her prayer was simple, “Please come. Please come!”
The next morning Mary went to the well for water, as she always did, without thinking. It was her job. That’s why she was surprised to find her grandmother there, drawing water already.
“Good morning, Mary. Would you like a drink?” Mary froze, trying to figure out if she was late and in trouble. But the caring look in her grandmother’s eyes relaxed her.
“Yes, thank you, Grandmother,” Mary said politely, taking the offered cup.
The old woman sat silently for a long time, watching Mary drink. Finally she said, “My Mary is troubled.”
“Yes, I am, Grandmother.” Mary’s finger raced around the brim of the cup. Her grandmother gently put a hand on top of her racing one to calm her, then lifted Mary’s chin to meet her gaze. “Tell me everything child.”
“Oh, I don’t even know where to start. I am so tired of wondering, Grandmother. I waited through years of hearing my friends tell their stories about entering womanhood. Years of thinking it could be any day! And now I am here and still I am waiting. Even though I am so weary of the waiting, still I am afraid to enter into a whole new life. And one that seems like such drudgery. I do not want Mother’s life, I am sorry for saying it, but I don’t. I want more than the next step. I want deliverance from all our suffering and oppression. I want Grandfather back.” Tears streamed down Mary’s nose and onto her grandmother’s shoulder as the old woman pulled her to.
“I don’t want to wonder whether Father will come home every night,” Mary went on through her sobs, “because he stands up for what is right like Grandfather did. But at the same time, I want Mother to have courage and stop cowering in fear, hiding behind the next meal. I want Yahweh to show up and set us all free! That’s what I really want more than anything. When will Yahweh show up for us, like in all the stories, Grandmother? I know He is able to help us! He is!”
Mary took a deep breath, inhaling her grandmother’s scent. It was familiar, and yet hard to pin down, just like her grandmother.
The old woman stroked Mary’s hair in silence for a long time before she began to hum a song. It was an old, old song she’d sung to Mary her whole life, a song of the Promised One. Mary let herself sink into the song, as her grandmother had taught her. She imagined herself swimming in, and then floating on the promises that carried her on the tide of hope. Only this time she reached the beach and she saw Him, the Promised One. For a split second in her mind he was real, real in every way and so familiar!
“It is a good thing to quietly wait, to hope for help from Yahweh.” The old woman raised herself. But Mary was still treasuring her vision. “You are a fortunate girl to see the way you do, Mary.” Mary studied her grandmother’s face, wondering how much she knew. She pondered her grandmother’s words. For an instant she could see how the waiting, the longing, was good.
Then her mother’s call cut through the moment like a sword, “Mary! I need water. What are you doing, girl?”
That afternoon as Mary was kneeling in the garden, carefully weeding the new little shoots, an instantaneous cloud blocked out the sun. The air felt electrified. Slowly Mary rose to look around. She had heard the old ones tell of a time when the sun had been blotted out and her mind raced to this strange occurrence. But what she saw took her breath away.
A man hovered above the earth, so radiant with light that she had to shield her eyes. Then he spoke, “Greetings, favored one. The Lord is with you!”
Mary sunk back to the ground, shielding her eyes, and wondered what on earth this greeting meant. Why was the Lord coming for her? Was she about to die?
But the angel went on, reassuring her, “Mary, you have nothing to fear. You have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great, be called ‘Son of the Highest.’ The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David. He will rule Jacob’s house forever; his kingdom will never end.”
Mary gazed upon the angel, awed and overwhelmed by what she had just heard, until a matter of practicality hit her. “How will this be?” she asked, “since I am a virgin?”
The angel laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound Mary had ever heard. Still she strained her ears to hear his reply. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, the power of the Highest hover over you. Therefore, the child you bring to birth will be called Holy, Son of God.”
“Oh,” Mary breathed into her hands.
“And did you know,” the angel went on, “that your cousin Elizabeth conceived a son, old as she is? Everyone called her barren, and here she is six months pregnant! Nothing, you see, is impossible with God.”
Mary’s heart soared as she saw what was happening. God had heard her prayers, and He was coming to save them! He was fulfilling His promises, the ones Grandmother sang about. The Promised One was coming, into Mary.
“I see,” Mary replied looking into the angel’s eyes, “I am the Lord’s servant, ready to serve. May it be with me just as you say.”
Then the angel left her and went back up into heaven.
When Gabriel returned to heaven all eyes were peeled, waiting for his entrance. “It’s a go!” he sang for all to hear. The joyous raucous was deafening. But Gabriel flew through the commotion looking for Jesus. He was going to miss him. He had to say goodbye.
Finally Gabriel found Jesus. He was donning a modest human body for his farewell party. Gabriel could see hints of the young girl he’d just talked to in his face. “Wow,” the angel breathed, studying this new man.
“So,” Gabriel put a hand on Jesus’ shoulder, respectfully, and affectionately, “How are you feeling?”
“Excited as any kid at Christmas,” Jesus winked.
“Huh?” Gabriel scratched his head, until he finally gave up trying to understand. “I’m going to miss you, man.” Gabriel winked back.
Jesus laughed, and gave a little nod, “Until we meet again.”
Jesus was excited. He had been waiting for this moment, well, forever—or at least since time began. He was going to get to experience the limited life of created man. He looked over at his Father, always at his side, and felt an unfamiliar pain.
God the Father stopped and looked into Jesus’ deep brown eyes. “You will learn to see me, as they do.” Jesus nodded.
“And hear you?” he asked, feeling childlike already.
“As they do,” God the Father smiled with warmth that melted any hint of pain. “Nothing can separate us, my Son.”
Jesus stood with God the Father on the pinnacle above the heavens. Below the angels sang with jubilation, and beauty, beyond human imagination.
“Remember,” God the Father embraced his Son, “I love you.”
Jesus smiled, “Alright, let’s do this!” And with that he dove from the pinnacle of heaven with a shout of joy. The Holy Spirit caught him in strong wings and transformed him into a seed, which he delivered to the body of a willing young girl.