this innocent girl has been on my mind so much these days as we count down the seconds, the minutes, the hours until Christmas.
because our anticipation lasts from the final dish on Thanksgiving Day until the twenty-fifth wooden figure is hung on the Advent calender.
but hers was for nine long months.
this was a frightened child with big doe eyes and a secret told to her by an angel -- one that she could only hide for so long before the world would know and come running with big, sharp stones and cries of "whore."
this was her culture, her people. she had a strong man who loved her and sought her for his bride, but this baby was not his, and he would know, and then they would know.
there was joy.
my soul doth magnify the Lord.
my spirit rejoices in God, my Saviour.
she knew her soul was wrapped tight with the Hand of the Master. the protector of the innocent, the Father to this Son.
and so she waited in the silence. hand on her stomach to feel the kick of the One who would save her soul from Death
:: and clung to unceasing joy ::