“And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.” ~Luke 1:28
I am reviled among people who know me and revered by people who think they do.
I am an innocent girl living a guilty woman’s life, chosen to be the handmaiden of the Lord. It is a gift and a curse.
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God gave me a life of intensity: His love overshadowed me, grew inside my womb, and passed through my body and my life as blood and water flowed. Being so close to God, holding Him in my arms, has been boundless joy, and unspeakable grief.
It all happened so fast. My life is always flashing before me: the vision, the pain in Joseph’s eyes, Elizabeth’s joy, the whispers, the running, the women wailing, the fights, the mistakes, the dreams, the questions, the fear, the pain, the bread and the wine, the wilderness, the wonders, and the words, the awful tree, the screams, His smell-Jesus smelled like wood and olives and sweat, His feet-always bare, always filthy, His eyes-piercing mine from the first day as He nursed to the last day as He died, His tiny hand when it squeezed my finger with such power, His huge hand as it lay lifeless, limp and bloody in mine.
Death chased my son His whole life, held Him for a time, but He conquered it.
And then He left.
My reputation is ruined.
My sanity is questionable.
My Joseph is dead.
My Jesus is gone.
I am weary of my purpose.
Being so close to God has exhausted me and left me wearing black.
I go on, though, because I believe the promise the angel gave me so long ago:
“…the Lord is with thee.”
