Diary of a Pregnant Virgin #7
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Dear Diary,
I couldn’t wait any longer. It wouldn’t be long before Mom suspected something was up, and I’d much rather tell her than let her draw her own conclusions.
Yesterday we were in the kitchen together, and I guess I was smiling and humming as we chopped vegetables. I could hardly help it; I’ve been in such a good mood ever since what happened in the field last week. It’s as if I see God everywhere I look, and I’m so aware of him all the time. I still can’t believe what’s happening to me—that God reached down from heaven and touched me! It’s like David wrote: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?”
Anyway, Mom saw me randomly smiling at the carrots and she started teasing me, “Can’t you even make dinner without daydreaming about that fiancé of yours?” I laughed, but I had to admit to myself that I hadn’t even been thinking about Joseph right then. Then I started thinking, It’s not fair that I don’t tell her about this. She’s my mother, she deserves to know. But—what if she doesn’t believe me? I’m going to look like the most wacked-out liar… God, help me. Let her trust me. She’s my mom, I can’t bear for her to condemn me.
I felt again the echo of what God had told me in the field, Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. I took a deep breath and said, “Actually, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
Mom looked sideways at me, still chopping. “Oh?”
“Yeah… I was working in the garden last month… and I saw something.”
“Like an animal?”
“No… more like an angel.”
I gave that one a moment. Mom’s hands hesitated on the knife, but she asked casually, “And what did the angel say?”
“He said that God was pleased with me and I will bear a son.”
Long pause. Chop, chop, chop. Finally Mom said, “Well, God willing, maybe you will someday—”
“I’m pregnant now, Mom.”
Oops. I’d planned to ease into that a little more.
Mom stopped chopping and turned to look at me. Her eyes were the biggest I’d ever seen them.
“You’re pregnant.”
“It’s not what you think, Mom, I didn’t—”
“You’re pregnant?!”
“Yes, but I didn’t do anything!”
“What do you mean, you didn’t do anything? You went and got yourself pregnant, Mary, what were you thinking? You’re an engaged woman, you couldn’t wait a few more months? Does Joseph know?”
“No—”
“Your father’s going to kill him.”
A shock of fear bolted through me. “It’s not Joseph’s fault, I swear!”
Mom hissed something under her breath. I was terrified to think what it was. “Then who—”
“Nobody!”
“Mary, you have to tell us—”
“I told you, I didn’t do anything!”
I stood there trembling, clenching the knife to keep my hands from shaking. Mom stood in front of me, her neck and lips tight as a bowstring.
I sighed and put one hand protectively over my stomach. “The angel said my son would be the King of Israel. I’m supposed to name him Jesus. The power of God came over me; I don’t even know how it happened, but Mom, my baby is the son of… of God.”
There it was. I’d said it. Now not only would I be stoned for adultery, but I would also be dragged before the priest for blasphemy, or shipped off to a mental hospital. Or all three.
Even as I imagined that future, though, I couldn’t be scared. As I told my Mom what the angel had told me, I realized that I really, really do believe it. God has his hand on me. He has chosen me. The baby inside me, this boy that I will name Jesus, will be the salvation of Israel. God won’t let anything happen to him, or to me. He is God’s appointed Messiah. God’s own son.
Mom just stared at me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I realized that nothing in Mom School had ever prepared her for this.
So she just turned back to the vegetables—chop, chop, chop—and said, “We’ll see what your father has to say.” I noticed that her hands were shaking.
Mine weren’t anymore.
Psalm 8:3-4
Matthew 10:32-37
I couldn’t wait any longer. It wouldn’t be long before Mom suspected something was up, and I’d much rather tell her than let her draw her own conclusions.
Yesterday we were in the kitchen together, and I guess I was smiling and humming as we chopped vegetables. I could hardly help it; I’ve been in such a good mood ever since what happened in the field last week. It’s as if I see God everywhere I look, and I’m so aware of him all the time. I still can’t believe what’s happening to me—that God reached down from heaven and touched me! It’s like David wrote: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?”
Anyway, Mom saw me randomly smiling at the carrots and she started teasing me, “Can’t you even make dinner without daydreaming about that fiancé of yours?” I laughed, but I had to admit to myself that I hadn’t even been thinking about Joseph right then. Then I started thinking, It’s not fair that I don’t tell her about this. She’s my mother, she deserves to know. But—what if she doesn’t believe me? I’m going to look like the most wacked-out liar… God, help me. Let her trust me. She’s my mom, I can’t bear for her to condemn me.
I felt again the echo of what God had told me in the field, Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. I took a deep breath and said, “Actually, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”
Mom looked sideways at me, still chopping. “Oh?”
“Yeah… I was working in the garden last month… and I saw something.”
“Like an animal?”
“No… more like an angel.”
I gave that one a moment. Mom’s hands hesitated on the knife, but she asked casually, “And what did the angel say?”
“He said that God was pleased with me and I will bear a son.”
Long pause. Chop, chop, chop. Finally Mom said, “Well, God willing, maybe you will someday—”
“I’m pregnant now, Mom.”
Oops. I’d planned to ease into that a little more.
Mom stopped chopping and turned to look at me. Her eyes were the biggest I’d ever seen them.
“You’re pregnant.”
“It’s not what you think, Mom, I didn’t—”
“You’re pregnant?!”
“Yes, but I didn’t do anything!”
“What do you mean, you didn’t do anything? You went and got yourself pregnant, Mary, what were you thinking? You’re an engaged woman, you couldn’t wait a few more months? Does Joseph know?”
“No—”
“Your father’s going to kill him.”
A shock of fear bolted through me. “It’s not Joseph’s fault, I swear!”
Mom hissed something under her breath. I was terrified to think what it was. “Then who—”
“Nobody!”
“Mary, you have to tell us—”
“I told you, I didn’t do anything!”
I stood there trembling, clenching the knife to keep my hands from shaking. Mom stood in front of me, her neck and lips tight as a bowstring.
I sighed and put one hand protectively over my stomach. “The angel said my son would be the King of Israel. I’m supposed to name him Jesus. The power of God came over me; I don’t even know how it happened, but Mom, my baby is the son of… of God.”
There it was. I’d said it. Now not only would I be stoned for adultery, but I would also be dragged before the priest for blasphemy, or shipped off to a mental hospital. Or all three.
Even as I imagined that future, though, I couldn’t be scared. As I told my Mom what the angel had told me, I realized that I really, really do believe it. God has his hand on me. He has chosen me. The baby inside me, this boy that I will name Jesus, will be the salvation of Israel. God won’t let anything happen to him, or to me. He is God’s appointed Messiah. God’s own son.
Mom just stared at me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I realized that nothing in Mom School had ever prepared her for this.
So she just turned back to the vegetables—chop, chop, chop—and said, “We’ll see what your father has to say.” I noticed that her hands were shaking.
Mine weren’t anymore.
Psalm 8:3-4
Matthew 10:32-37
1 comments:
Great job, girl! :) These are getting better and better! I am really enjoying reading this perspective. :)
Love you!
-Kailey
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