In a land far from ours, an older couple gave birth to their only daughter, comely in face with dark eyes and mirth. Her early development evidenced unusual gifts of spirit, of compassion, of quickness. To further support and enhance her gifts, she was placed in the care of wise teachers. Others trained her in the practical skills of homemaking and gardening, upon which their village survived. Living in an occupied land was tricky.

Of marriageable age, she was betrothed to a hard-working man, older than she, known for his piety and wisdom. In time, they brought forth their son in hardship conditions. There was little help for them, but they managed. Strangers visited and brought simple gifts to tide them over.As their child grew, she noted his keen sensitivity to the world around him, his penchant for prayer, his elders’ wonder at his perceptiveness. What would he become? She wondered. Opportunities to study in foreign lands further matured him. Retuning home, many sought his counsel because his words fired their hearts with fresh vision. The lowly flocked also around him in the neighboring villages, also occupied by greedy foreigners fleecing them with taxes. Against these injustices, he continued to rant. His mother watched, her heart quivering. 

Eventually, the authorities had had enough of this rabble-rouser and condemned him to death. On the way to his execution, the mother and son met, heart to heart.
Everything seemed lost, but only for three days. He returned.

 

The mother was Mary of Nazareth.

 

Merry Christmas!

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