I was pure, an innocent girl awaiting the day when I would join my betrothed in joyous union.
Then one day an angel came to visit.
He told me the Holy Spirit would hover over my womb
and I’d be the one to carry God.
Oh what anxiety stirred in my soul!
“How can this be?” I bequeathed.
I had yet to indulge the passion.
Dear God, if my belly became rotund
I’d endure the rumors they’d report.
Yet, trusting, I accepted the heaviest weight I could carry.
The responsibility of delivering this Savior so he could deliver me and in turn, the world, is not an easy effort.
Then if mockery wasn’t enough of a burden,
Herod called for a registry and in the third trimester I’d by donkey travel
to stain straw stinking with animal waste.
My grunts accompanied by animal groans,
as I prayed to God to ease the discomfort
and wished I had women attending. Oh midwives, what support, what comfort they’d offer, or so my mother had said!
I didn’t have such luxury, projected thoughts shunned me from such relief.
I bore Christ in a stable, rejected by family for what they thought I had done.
There was no room for us at the inn,
the town wouldn’t welcome a suspected harlot.
So here I pushed out the Holy One,
and though I in faithfulness was righteous,
I had to accept the lies they spread
and the dejection.
I gave birth to God in this manger because they wouldn’t let me in,
they couldn’t accept my indiscretions, however false they were.
I laid God to my breast
and as in salvation I am sustained,
my milk nourished him.
After he was comforted,
I with swaddling clothes laid him in the feeding trough,
gazing at glory divine.
I treasured, in my heart, the task of parenting I had accepted
and the imagined scandal I would now endure.
It wasn’t a silent night in my mind,
I was envisioning the path now set before us,
the obstacles I’d have to continuously surrender to God.
Hold me Jesus as I now hold you.
Disclaimer: These creative thought series are in no way Scriptural fact. They are theories or thoughts about how I or others in the same circumstances might have felt with these situations. It is with creative license that I type these things. These poems, or appearing more prose, are not intended to be an addition to Scripture. Only God’s Word should be upheld as truth. This is just an idea of what the characters or items personified might have been thinking. Please take it for what it is—a writer’s dreams, wrestling with the things God sometimes calls us to.