I’ve redesigned things pretty drastically here at hamous.org. We won’t be adding new content here so jump on over to the new place. I moved everything from 2008 into the new site. I hope to move the old posts but that may take me a while.
I am in the process of remodeling. Things may be out of place for a day or two. Just bear with me.
Promote: verb: contribute to the progress or growth of
Provide: verb: supply means of subsistence; earn a living; provide what is desired or needed, especially support, food or sustenance
“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common Defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”
After reading the above definitions, the Preamble to our Constitution makes clear the intent of our Founding Fathers. Unfortunately, such clarity has been lost over time, as forces within the country’s political framework have figured out how to buy votes by taking advantage of one of the basest human characteristics: laziness, or sloth. It is notable that “sloth” is one of the seven deadly sins, and it could very well prove to be the death of our country if we citizens do not wake up and take action.
Our government is ordained to do the tasks listed in the Preamble. Ordained invest with ministerial or priestly authority; order by virtue of superior authority; decree
The way I see it, “ordination” in this case and following these definitions implies that the Founding Fathers saw this cause as something higher than, “Gee, this would be a good thing to do!” Their lives, and the life of the country to which they were giving birth, were on the line. This was not a time for looseness of terms. Semantics mean something. The duties were specific and the methods were definite. Specifically, the government was to PROVIDE for the common defense and to PROMOTE the general welfare. Two different words were used, with two different meanings. This seems to have been overlooked, forgotten, or intentionally ignored by today’s liberals, especially the welfare part.
Promoting the general welfare never meant “pay the poor to be poor”. It never meant “give tax breaks to those who haven’t paid taxes”. It doesn’t mean “punish the providers and reward those who will not take care of themselves”.
Let’s look at promoting the general welfare by boosting the economy in ways that are effective. For example, cutting governmental spending. The less the government spends, the less it requires in taxes. That doesn’t mean it still won’t want to suck the last penny out of your pocket as you suck your last living breath – or even after. It’s merely a start.
Let’s see if the general welfare can be promoted by limiting welfare to those who truly cannot work or care for themselves. Are you able-bodied? Get a job. Can’t find a job? Set up an agency to help people start up their own businesses. Train them in how to handle money, market their services, and deal with customers. Give the Small Business Administration more money for small business start-up loans. Some of these need only be micro-loans. And don’t just get them started. Hold their hands for the first year or two, since these people may just have a hard time getting out of bed consistently for a while. Hopefully, this will break the cycle of poverty.
Promote the general welfare by encouraging teenagers to help out with the family businesses, if available, and if they are not involved with extracurricular school activities. Kids with jobs learn responsibility, how to deal with people, and how to handle money. And while they are working, they are not taking, selling, or sharing drugs. Ideally, anyway. Teach classes in school as to how money REALLY works, not just how the liberals think the economy should run. Maybe classes on problem-solving – not mathematical equations, but critical thinking skills, such as: “Bad weather has prevented you from working outside this week, which means you will only earn 30% of what you usually bring home. How do you handle this setback and still pay your bills?” The parents aren’t teaching these skills, but maybe a volunteer from a local business will. My hope is that eventually these classes can be removed from the curriculum, because society itself will be infused with these skills, and they can be absorbed and learned just like learning English from infancy. Yes, I can dream, can’t I?
These are just a few ideas, but the difference here is that the government, and hopefully society, will PROMOTE an atmosphere that will encourage the general welfare to improve. We were never guaranteed equal outcomes, only decreed to have equal opportunities. Our government was never meant to ensure that people of unequal talents and motivation would receive the same rewards, but we can work towards the goal of ensuring that each unequal person can strive to achieve their personal best. While real life may never achieve the written word, we can work towards the lofty goals put down in ink by brave men.
It has always amazed me at the thin threads that tie us to each other. How do we meet? How are our connections made? How is our existence even possible? My husband and I are one such example of “thin threads”.
Dear Hubby and I did not meet until my 11th year of high school. My greatest achievement was surviving life as the seventh of twelve children. I was not the most popular girl in my grade. I was not the most accomplished. Although I was a very good alto sax player, I did not have the panache of say, someone in the jazz band who could improvise instead of read sheet music. I consider myself intelligent, but I was not nearly the smartest kid in my class. Although I graduated in the top 10% of my class, I was put in my place on a regular basis by those with higher IQs. I had a set of friends – usually not in my grade, but that is another story. While not ugly, I was not beauty pageant material, like the flute player that had a budding career as a model. I did not even hang out with the girls who were chosen as homecoming queen wannabees. I just was not in the “in” group.
While I choose to gloss over the details, there were reasons for me to wait for the pay phone to come available during my lunch period. This fact alone dates me, as obviously today there would be no wait for a pay phone, as today’s cellular spoiled teenagers may not even know what a “pay phone” would be. They are all wondering “Why in the world would she wait for a phone? Just take it out of your pocket!” Anyway, I digress. I was waiting for the pay phone, which was unavailable because another girl refused to give it up. I sat down on the floor to wait. This happened several days in a row, and on the third day, as my buttocks were beginning to callous, “Alice” came and sat down next to me. I was surprised when she began talking to me, since Alice was one grade above me and one of the prettiest girls in school. Fortunately, she was not one of the stuck-up pretty girls, and thus began a most unexpected friendship.
Every day during lunch, we’d meet at the pay phone and see if one or both of us could use it. Every day during lunch, we’d talk. I discovered that her drafting class was next door to my English class, both of which were right after lunch. I took to extending our conversations as long as possible by walking her to her classroom, then walking next door to mine. This went on for a few weeks, and then one day I was at my floor level locker and heard Alice’s voice. Looking up, I saw her blonde hair, and then this big-shouldered, bright smile standing next to her. Alice introduced us, but I didn’t get the name of this really good-looking guy, so I nudged her with my elbow as we walked down the hall to his locker, and she re-introduced us again. After retrieving his books, we all walked to class. Handsome guy began meeting us at our lockers and in general hanging out as much as possible. He asked me out a week later. Alice became Homecoming Queen that year. So the average girl married her high school sweetheart after being introduced by the Homecoming Queen. Go figure.
And years later, I keep thinking – what would have happened if I had gotten impatient and left the pay phone? What if Dear Hubby had not transferred to my high school (which he did to be available to help a friend out with some transportation issues)? What if Alice had not taken the time to talk to me? What if Alice walked me to my class first, then walked alone to her door? What if Dear Hubby had not shared her drafting class, and so had not seen me at the door? What if Dear Hubby had not acquired the courage to ask Alice to introduce us (which he denies, but Alice confirms, by the way). What if I had been dating someone else at the time? What if Alice’s boyfriend was not available by phone at lunch?
I feel the same wonderment at the story of my paternal grandfather. The story is that he accompanied his cousin who was courting a young lady in Beaumont. While waiting for said young lady at her house, my grandfather noticed a picture of said young lady’s sister. He declared, “THAT is the woman I’m going to marry!” Which he promptly set about doing. Which then begs the question: What if he had decided NOT to accompany his cousin on this trip? What if he had chores that precluded his going to Beaumont? What if his courtship had failed? What if there had been no picture on the piano? What if my grandmother had already acquired a beau? What if his family never even immigrated to America? Would I even exist?
My maternal ancestors had a similar story. Natives of two different German villages, almost a stone’s throw apart (one a hill, one in the valley next to the hill), one arrived in the U.S. through New York, the other through Galveston. The New York arrival traveled halfway across the country before he met his life partner in New Braunfels. The “what ifs” on this relationship boggle my petite little mind!
Would I have Lovely Daughter if I had a headache on the night of conception? Would Handsome Son exist if Dear Hubby and I had decided on a late night movie instead of, well, you know?
So, I exist because of two tenuous threads of travel and romance. My children exist because a non-snotty homecoming queen chose to be my friend and I was patient enough to wait for it to happen. My existence rests on a house of cards built of human emotion and whim. On what slender threads will the existence of my grandchildren rest? And what would have happened should any of the previous events failed to happen?
We exist by the slenderest of ties, the slightest of whims, and the barest of possibilities.
I miss the little hands he had,
Which will never touch my nose.
I miss the tiny feet he had,
And his little baby toes!
And the future we would have had together,
Which I destroyed when in my prime,
If only, if only, if only, if only,
I could turn back the hands of time!
Now my arms are empty
When I know they should be full,
My heart cries out for the love
That I answered in ways cruel,
I have made my bed, though sad it is,
The price I pay is grave,
My child that was and is no more!
To a life of regrets I am slave.
Convenience seemed so logical then,
My desire for freedom so burning,
I lived my life without thought
Of how it might be turning,
Now I look back and see the damage
My decisions have horribly wrought,
All the things I would not have done,
Had I given my life more thought!
Oh, my baby, please forgive me!
Your full life lay ahead!
I never had the chance to love you,
I loved myself instead.
What was it that you would have become?
Before I committed this crime!
If only, if only, if only, if only,
I could turn back the hands of time!
Hear me, please, before you decide
To make decisions dear,
Think more than twice before you commit
An action you should fear!
For once done, ‘tis no return
To undo the havoc that you wreak,
Harken my words, for deep is the sorrow
And horror of which I speak.
Sometimes there are moments of grace in your life that just make you stop. I found such a moment of literal grace that made me stop in my tracks.
At times I walk – to get away from my stress, to relax, or to get some exercise. I normally walk the mile to my church and then back to my home. The route is free of unrestrained dogs, and along the way I get to cross a bridge over a bayou and walk the street near the bayou. Fortunately, our bayou is not one of the concreted monstrosities that are seen along certain waterways in our city, but is lined with concrete blocks that allow the grass to grow through. This encourages the local flora and fauna to thrive.
One evening, as I was on the return leg of my journey, I decided to walk along the bayou side of the road and peer over the edge. I stopped in my tracks as I witnessed a moment of real grace in action.
Along the edge of the bayou were three white egrets. These egrets are rather common in our area, and are sometimes called “cowbirds” because they are often found in pastures near cattle. These pure white, long-legged birds were striding slowly and elegantly along the edge of the water. Two of them in front, they set the pace for the one following behind. Their legs moved slowly, almost in unison, and together they dipped their long beaks into the water. Their long, slender necks bent together in a slow cadence, almost like a ballet. After about five feet or so, the back egret would take wing just long enough to leapfrog the others, and would step-step-pause-dip, step-step-pause-dip in the shallow water. Within a few steps, the two front, one back formation would recreate itself, and eventually the back bird would take wing and leapfrog again, landing gracefully, causing nary a ripple. Step-step-pause-dip, step-step-pause-dip. Their long, slender necks bending in unison, standing out in stark contrast to the green grass behind them. Step-step-pause-dip, step-step-pause-dip. The absolute beauty of it all held me in thrall until I could no longer indulge myself and had to tear myself away.
Beauty and grace can be found almost anywhere, as long we keep our eyes open for it. Even along the banks of a rather dirty bayou in the middle of a big city.
I woke up suddenly, not realizing I had dozed off. I had finished helping a lamb who was reluctant to enter the world, and it had not been my first of the evening. Did I hear my name? “Joshua!” There it was again. Now fully awake, I looked down in the valley and saw my friend, Gerson. “Come on up!” I yelled back to him. Gerson loved to talk and laugh, and I wondered how long he would handle the shepherding life if he ever decided to join me. Being a shepherd entailed long and lonely hours, with no one to talk to but the smelly, four-legged, furry animals that were so stupid they would surely starve without our help. Most of those conversations were rather lopsided. At least the sheep provided a living for me, and I enjoyed the sense of freedom that the hills gave me.
Gerson climbed up to my perch, where I had a clear view of the entire valley, grinning the whole time. He arrived a little out of breath, and dropped onto my blanket. His beaming face was framed by his dark curly hair, which covered his slightly large ears. “Have you heard?” he asked. Thus began an hour of non-stop village gossip. Gerson could talk more than any yenta in all of Bethlehem, and after awhile his babbling blurred with the occasional baaing sound from my sheep. I shared my bread and cheese with him as we continued to share the news in town. I didn’t go into town very often. Most people there only wanted to see me when they wanted to buy a sheep. We shepherds tended to smell like our sheep, and we weren’t very well educated since we spent so much time in the fields. The townsfolk tended to make me feel stupid and ugly. But I knew things they would never know, like how to take down a wild animal with a slingshot, or the how to tell when a ewe was about to lamb by her sound, or how the best routes from one pasture to another. The rabbi would probably get lost and die in the wilderness! I would wager that not a single town merchant would know how to find a lost sheep and rescue it safely from the ravines in our valley. My sheep knew me and followed me, and I would venture that was more than they could say of their children!
And then there were the ugly centurions. The soldiers and other Romans never tired of making our lives miserable. As shepherds, we were targets for much derision, even more so than the townsmen. I was only one of many – shepherds and townspeople alike - who eagerly awaited the day that the savior described in the Torah would rise up and rid us of the scourge that was Rome. It was a popular topic among the Jews, though we were careful when speaking of it. One could never be sure if spies were nearby, ready to turn us over the Romans. Gerson was one of the few townsfolk who enjoyed spending time with us, maybe because we were so happy to have something to listen to besides our sheep, and because there were no Roman soldiers in our pastures - usually.
Gerson was particularly animated this evening. With the decree from Caesar Augustus, Jews from all over Israel had come to Bethlehem for the census. There was much to talk about, and Gerson intended to talk about all of it! His teeth flashed in the moonlight as he talked, and his arms flailed the air when he described some of the newcomers in town. As much as I liked to hear Gerson talk, after a while I wished he would stop. And then he did!
There was a tremendously bright light that filled the valley. Brighter than the sun, it wasn’t hot. Its brilliance blinded me and I threw up my arm to shield my eyes. I wanted to run but was rooted to the ground like the trees behind me. Gerson, however, did run and hid behind the nearest tree, though I could hear him fall twice on the way. Strangely enough, the sheep were not afraid, though they made not a sound. I expected them to run, but they continued to calmly chew their cud and settled into the grass. Gradually, I could make out a large figure in the midst of the radiance.
“Fear not,” a voice said. It was not a loud booming voice as I would have expected, but more like a voice inside my head, speaking as if with friends over a meal. Instantly, I felt less afraid. “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy that shall be to all the people: for this day is born to you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David.” Gerson was at my elbow, no longer trembling, and nudged me. “Could this be?” he asked, “Is it true? Has our suffering ended? Are Scriptures to be fulfilled?” “Shush,” I replied, though the same thoughts filled my mind. The voice continued, “And this shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger.” Suddenly the skies were filled with angels and the most beautiful music filled my soul. The music touched my heart, and I had faith in the message of the angels. I would have believed it a dream, were it not for Gerson at my side, bruising my arm with his grip. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the angels disappeared, and with them the heavenly music.
Still transfixed and staring at the sky, I gradually became more aware of my surroundings. Was this my arm, my cloak? I pried Gerson’s hand from my arm and sat him down on the ground while I collected my thoughts. “The infant,” he said quietly, “we must find this infant.” He stood up and grabbing my arm again, began dragging me down the hill and to the road into town. “I shall be black and blue before this night is over!” I thought, as we tripped on the rocks and tumbled at the bottom in a heap. As we approached the town, we were joined by other shepherds. “Did you see? Did you hear?” I heard repeatedly, as newcomers joined our growing group. “Where is this infant, our Savior?” I asked. “I don’t know, the angel did not say,” came reply after reply. We began knocking frantically on doors, asking about newborns and saviors. This did not endear us to the innkeepers or townsfolk, and we had to avoid more than one Roman soldier as we searched eagerly for the babe that the angels had announced. Some of the townsfolk joined us in the streets, eager for some excitement and entertainment. Finally, I heard a voice crying “Over here! I have found the babe!” A small stampede of shepherds rushed to the voice, and we found what we were looking for.
A woman, beautiful and glowing in her new motherhood, with her very capable husband, was in a stable with the newborn babe. The husband had in his hand some kind of sharp instrument, and tried to block our path. We had obviously surprised and frightened him, and we paused, not knowing what to do. The new mother looked at us for a moment, and said something quietly to her husband. He looked at her with questioningly eyes, and she smiled and nodded. He stepped aside, but his look let us know that he would be watching us, and we should be on our best behavior.
We approached the new family, a few at a time, until we were gathered at the manger where the resourceful parents had made a bed for the baby. Wrapped in swaddling clothes, the boy looked back at us with amazing calm. The mother smiled gently and tenderly, and my heart melted. Gerson, ever willing to talk, described the angelic event to her, and to my surprise, she seemed to believe Gerson. I was concerned, however. Our savior, born in a stable with animals? Was this truly the right child, the right place? I was reminded of David, the youngest and a shepherd, whom God had turned into a great king. As I gazed at the infant, I realized that He could make anything of anyone He chose. “Praise the Lord,” I whispered. “Praise the Lord,” she replied. We began to back away from the stable as others made their way forward to pay homage. We made our way back to our beloved valleys and hills. “Praise G-d!” we shouted, “Praise to the Almighty!” We did not know the exact time of our deliverance, but we had seen the one who would save us! We took this knowledge with us back to our sheep, and not one of us would sleep that night, that wonderful, holy night!
Joseph has gone to enroll us in the census. We hope that he will be allowed to do this without my presence. I am too close to birth to wander out. Hopefully, the Roman officials will be merciful. He left early in the morning after leaving me some food and rearranging our straw. The innkeeper arrived after breakfast to feed and water the animals, and a few of them were taken out for use. He checked on me briefly, and then left. I am the only person in the stable, but I don’t feel alone. It’s been a strange feeling, but it’s true. The pains began in midmorning. At first, they were mild, but I had seen enough childbirths to know what was coming. I did not want to have my baby in a stable, of all places! Animals were all around me, doing all the things that animals do. They ate. They scratched. They defecated! They made all sorts of sounds. One of the goats had a bad case of flatulence, but fortunately it was at the far end of the stable. While they watched with their big, brown eyes, none of them could help me, though their presence helped to keep the stable warm. How could G-d allow me to give birth to His son in a stable, and not even a small hut? Would it have been too much to ask for that? As I waited impatiently for my husband to return, I began to think about Job. Who was I to question G-d? Feeling somewhat chastened, I turned my thoughts to my baby. While I had never felt alone, I had been praying all day for the strength I would need. I kept hoping my husband would return home quickly, but it was evening before he returned.
“It is done!’ Joseph said as he entered the stable where I reclined on a blanket. “I have met with the officials and we are enrolled in the census. It took some explaining, why you weren’t with me.” He looked at my face. “How are you doing?”
“My time has come,” I said, “I am feeling the labor coming.” At that moment, pain enveloped my womb as it tried to squeeze my baby into the world. Instantly Joseph was at my side, holding my hand until the spasm was over. He began to pray and to recall the instructions of my mother to him before we left for Bethlehem. Joseph helped me through the childbirth, which was surprisingly quick. For a man, he did a fine job of caring for both his wife and newborn son.
He handed the baby to me. “Son of G-d,” I whispered and kissed his head. Joseph reclined next to me, and we both marveled at the miracle. “What now?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I replied, “G-d didn’t tell me.” He was taken aback a moment. In all the months of our marriage, we never really talked about what would happen “after”. We assumed we would receive instructions from somewhere. But no angelic being showed up, no mysterious messenger. “Then we trust in the Lord,” he finally said. I felt for his hand, and rested my head upon his shoulder. He put his arm around me and held me close. “Jesus,” he said, stroking the baby’s head with his free hand. “Jesus,” I said. Jesus snuggled against my breast and closed his eyes to rest. Joseph began to pray in a very quiet voice. Then we sat there together, in silence, marveling at the miracle in my arms. I finally fell asleep, while Joseph kept watch.
I awoke after a few hours. The night seemed a little too bright, even if it had been a full moon. Joseph was also awake. We heard yelling in the streets. “Jesus!” I called out. Joseph turned to me and pointed. He had made a bed for the baby in a manger, filling it with clean straw, so that I could rest. I thanked my parents yet once more for selecting him for my husband. “What is the noise?” I asked him, “Is it trouble?” “I don’t know,” he replied. He searched our belongings for something to use as a weapon. He stood at the front of the stable. The noise became louder and closer to us. Joseph braced himself, and I waited on the blankets, with the manger at my right hand. We were nervous. Were the Romans coming to cause trouble? Was it a band of zealots? Were we about to be caught in the middle of a riot? I glanced at the manger, and Jesus was gazing at me. I suddenly felt calm and unafraid.
A strange man came running up, looked at us, and ran away before Joseph could even react. “Here they are! I’ve found the babe!” Soon there was a crowd of men running to the stable. Joseph braced himself again, prepared to kill if he had to in order to protect us. The men saw his face and stopped, confused. “Joseph,” I said, “it’s all right.” He turned to me, his eyes questioning me. “It’s all right, Joseph, let them come.” I could tell he didn’t like it, but he did as I asked. Slowly the men came closer. I could tell they were shepherds. The sheep smell is unmistakable. One by one, they came and bowed down. One of them spun a tale of angels in the sky. I looked at Jesus, and he looked at the shepherds. I remembered my own angel, and knew that they told the truth. What was I supposed to do? What was the etiquette when a strange shepherd approached the Son of God in a manger in a stable? Were they supposed to bring something? Was I supposed to give something? I had not the resources to set a table of any kind for so many. I had not a table at all! Not knowing what to do, I simply thanked them for coming. Each one came and bowed down before my baby, and left the same way. I could hear them shouting excitedly as they passed back through the town. I reclined there on our blankets, with Joseph watching over us, pondering upon the events of the evening.
Then, one last question was answered. I was the one who changed the diapers of the Son of God.
This trip is decidedly uncomfortable. No woman should be required to ride a donkey days before giving birth. Why am I doing this? Because some pagan Roman emperor miles away decided he wanted to count his subjects! Cursing is definitely not suitable for a woman, so I leave all that to my husband Joseph. As I watch him leading the donkey and muttering under his breath, I smile and remember how this all started. The angel, his dream, our quick wedding, and then our lives together…
After my initial fear of being rejected by Joseph, he described his dream to me, in which an angel confirmed my story. He has been such a wonderful husband! We both are subject to the normal urges of husband and wife, but he has respected me as one with whom G-d has been intimate. It is frustrating sometimes, but I had already dedicated myself to my Lord, and Joseph also, so we bear with each other and love each other in all ways open to us. Even after a hard day’s work, he always comes home with a smile on his face and embraces me. I, for my part, know what he has given up for me and work hard at making his home as comfortable as possible. I think our abstinence from each other has managed to draw us even closer together, as we strive to funnel our energy into fulfill each other’s happiness. Sharing such a wonderful secret also brings us together. Joseph marvels at the change in my belly, and likes to feel the new life moving within me. And when I am tired, he rubs my back and my feet with oil. We cuddle together and wonder what our future holds for us. How do you raise the Son of God? How do you discipline the Divine? Would he even need to be disciplined? I certainly hope not! How do you teach one who has access to all knowledge? And who will change the Son of God’s diaper?
This last thought makes me smile, and I watch Joseph plodding along the road. He glances back at me and returns my smile. Even in this discomfort, we manage to find a private place of happiness. G-d has truly blessed us. May He continue to bless us, I think to myself, as I adjust my seat upon our donkey. Caesar Augustus certainly hasn’t!
When word came of the census, the whole village was in chaos. Since Joseph was of the House of David, we had to travel to the Bethlehem to be enrolled in the census. Our neighbors were making plans to travel away as well. We finally found someone who would not be leaving and arranged for them to care for our home while we were gone. Gathering our belongings and making the arrangements at times were difficult for me, since I was getting heavier by the day with my pregnancy. My mother took Joseph aside and had a serious talk with him about how to care for me if necessary. I’ll never forget how red my beloved’s face was as returned from that conversation! My father also had a few words with Joseph, but it was a more manly conversation. Joseph allowed four days for our travel to Bethlehem, and packed our supplies on the donkey. I noticed that he packed one of his sharp tools where he could reach it easily. He and I were both worried about robbers on the road. We kissed our parents good-bye and finally set out.
So here we are, plodding along the rocky road. Joseph curses the Romans and watches for robbers, and I try to keep comfortable and not add to his burdens. Occasionally, Joseph lifts me off so I can stretch my legs, but it isn’t long before he must lift me back onto the donkey’s back. We pass vineyards, and sometimes Joseph asks for some grapes for me. We aren’t always treated well, and I cannot blame the vineyard owners, for there are many people on the road and many don’t bother to ask before helping themselves to the crop! But some take a look at me and offer to let us rest in the shade with a bunch of grapes and fresh water. I am able to dampen my scarf and wipe the dust from my face and arms to refresh myself, as does Joseph. We drink and eat and go on our way with many thanks to the owners and to G-d! How kind people can be!
Finally, we arrive in Bethlehem! The commotion! The confusion! We are but a small part of the mass of people arriving, and we all need a place to stay. The inns are all full, and doors are rudely slammed in our faces, even after they see my need. I suppose I cannot blame them for their short tempers, either. All day they have to deal with demands for space, food, and care for their animals. Poor Joseph, he’s gone to all of his family, but they are all full, also. Finally, late in the day, an innkeeper takes pity on me and decides to put us in his stable. It is the only place he has left, and we take it gratefully. He lays out fresh straw for us lay on, and Joseph unpacks our belongings. We try to make it as homelike as possible, but it is difficult with all the eyes watching us. Every pack animal from the visitors and the inn’s own small flock are interested in our every movement. The baby has dropped, and every movement is an effort. I smile briefly at their inquisitive gazes as Joseph piles up some straw and puts down our blankets. I drop gratefully down and rest while Joseph waters our donkey. By the time he returns, I have drifted off into a deep sleep. He ventures out into the city to bring back some fresh food for our dinner, leaving me in the care of our new four-legged friends. We have safely arrived and have a place to sleep, thanks be to G-d!
I am not special. My name is even a common one. I am not particularly beautiful, nor rich, nor endowed with any special gifts except a deep and abiding love and reverence for my G-d. I had planned to dedicate my life to His service, and did all I could to follow His commandments. My mother was always thanking G-d that I was her daughter, and we spent much time laughing together as we worked on our household chores. I adored my father. We were a very happy family. I was betrothed an older yet very kind man. Joseph, a carpenter, had been chosen by my parents. His eyes followed me as a man’s would, yet his words were respectful and kind. His hands and arms were strong, and he would be a good provider for me. He also revered G-d, and was well-known and respected at Temple. He gave alms to the poor. I awaited my wedding night with the same excitement and trepidation of all young brides, and my life seemed set, which was a comforting thought.
One evening I was awakened by a brilliant glow that filled even the darkest corners of my small room. Startled from my sleep, I was filled with a sense of goodness and calm despite the situation that would normally fill me with fear. Where are my mother and father? Could they not see the glow? Would they not be afraid for me? As I held my hands over my eyes, the glow faded and I could see someone looking at me. An angel! AN ANGEL! In my room!
“Hail, full of grace!” the angel said.” I looked as closely as I could, but all I can remember is the kindness in the eyes and the slight smile that touched the corner of his lips. And why was he calling me by that title instead of my name? Thoughts tumbled through my mind, out of control. Why me? Why now? What was wanted of me? I wanted to speak, but the words froze on my lips as I gazed at my visitor.
The angel smiled a little wider and his eyes twinkled a little more, as if he were enjoying a private joke shared with someone I could not see. I pulled my thin blankets to my neck. “The Lord is with you, Mary, and you are blessed among women.” What did these words mean? Blessed among women? What did he WANT? My heart pounded faster, so fast that I thought it would jump from my chest. “Fear not,” he said kindly, noticing my anxiety. I began to calm down, the fear leaving my body. “Behold! You shall conceive in your womb, and shall bring for a son; and you shall name him Jesus.” WHAT! Conceive a baby? The angel continued, as if to let me know how important this was, “He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord god shall give him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob forever!”
My head was swirling. The throne of David, our great king? True, Joseph was of the line of David, but we had not engaged in relations. Son of the most High? Blasphemy! But his was G-d’s own messenger! How could it be blasphemy, from G-d himself? And could I refuse this, having dedicated myself to His service? The angel continued to smile at me, waiting for my response. “How shall this be done? I do not know man,” I replied. He replied, “The Holy Spirit shall come upon you, and the power of the most High shall overshadow you. And therefore also the Holy which shall be born of you shall be called the Son of God.” I almost fainted. While a little unclear on the specifics, I understood what would happen. I was to conceive and give birth to – impossible!
The angel continued on, as if reading my thoughts, “Behold your cousin Elizabeth, she has also conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren, because no word shall be impossible with God.” My mind screamed at me. Elizabeth! Pregnant! But she was so old, and had never been able to give Zachariah a child! And a SON! What a blessing! I had not seen Elizabeth in some time, but I was so happy for her. And in that happiness I found my answer. I bowed my head and said, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to your word.” When I looked up, the angel was gone. Did it really happen? Did I dream the whole thing? I laid myself down, sure that I had imagined the whole thing, but also sure that I would be unable to sleep. To my surprise, a deep sleep overcame me as my head touched the pillow. I had strange, unremembered dreams, and when the morning came, I knew that it was no dream. I knew, KNEW, that I carried life within me.
JOSEPH! I was suddenly afraid. What would he think? What would he do? What do I tell him? Would he believe me? And would my mother and father believe me? To my knowledge, no living person had carried G-d within. Joseph had the right to have me stoned as an adulteress, should he not believe me. I carried my secret with me all day, touching my womb as if to reassure myself that it was really true. That is how Joseph found me, standing under the almond tree, with my hand on my stomach. He knew what the look on my face meant, and his face dark with anger, he confronted me. I tried to explain, but he did not believe me. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I described the angelic encounter, but he would not listen. He stormed from our garden as I crumpled into a heap on the ground, my mother watching with open mouth from the window. She came rushing out to me, but I could not explain what had happened. I could not bear another rejection. I begged to be released from my chores and retired to my bedroom. I was unable to eat or stir from my bed.
Joseph arrived later the next day. My mother allowed him into my bedroom, her questioning eyes following him. Joseph told her nothing, but came straight to my bed and sat me up. Was this it? Would he divorce me and cause me shame? Or in his anger would he have me dragged before the Sanhedrin and declared an adulteress? I clutched my blankets and could not meet his eyes, looking down at the ground. I trembled as the tears streamed down my cheeks. He kneeled in front of me and placed his hands on my cheeks. Gently lifting my head, he wiped away the tears with his thumbs as he gazed into my eyes. “I believe you,” he said, “and I also serve G-d. I love you. I will serve you as a husband, caring for you and this son you carry. But I must respect you always as handmaiden of G-d. Do you understand?” As the realization of what he was saying entered my understanding, I threw my arms around him and together we cried. I put my head on his chest, and he put his strong hand gently on my head, and we became one in our hearts. Praise God for his blessings!