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Walking Mary’s Road


Mary’s road was not a walk in the park. Most of us know the story of how she had to travel with Joseph, away from her family in her last month of pregnancy, into a place largely unknown and unwelcoming to her. She rode a donkey for the whole journey along a trail that was probably rough and bumpy; perhaps the days were hot and the nights cold. She arrived in Bethlehem the night she was ready to deliver her firstborn and there was not even a corner in a house for her to labour. Instead there was the stable, probably a smelly place. It doesn’t sound like she even had a woman there to help her. But she trusted. God knew she would. She didn’t complain about the inconvenience of her circumstances and she faced what came bravely, sensing she was far from alone.

in woods

My own circumstances, though in many ways different from Mary’s, have some similarities, enough so that I find myself thinking of her seeming aloneness and looking at how she trusted so willingly. The time draws near for our own baby to be born. We travel one month before this wee one’s due, crossing an ocean and starting a new life, not necessarily from choice, but from circumstances. I don’t know how the medical side of things is going to work out, where I’ll deliver, or who my doctor or midwife will be. All I know is that as soon as I get to Scotland I have to register to get into the National Health Service system (medicine in the UK is socialized) and hope that things fall into place very quickly. I’ve had to lay aside many of my strong desires aside as I probably won’t have time to make too many of the demands I was able to make with Aria’s birth. I may have to have a doctor instead of a midwife; maybe they won’t let me eat when I want to; perhaps I will be pushed to have medical procedures that I don’t want done. I am in a fragile place between trust and worry. But God has reminded me through this pregnancy that He is with me.
This baby was conceived in England during a two week visit there for my sister’s wedding. I first found out about its existence in India after fearing that I’d become barren and unable to ovulate (silly, I know, but still a fear that I found bothering me). A few days earlier I’d given God my fear and told him that if Aria ended up being an only child, I would still trust him; it wouldn’t be the end of the world. At the time that I prayed this prayer I was already a few days pregnant. Surprise, surprise when the test that I took “just in case” proved to be positive. I didn’t seek care in India. I was afraid of their hospitals, their needles, getting some sort of disease from lack of cleanliness. I knew that this concern was probably not well-founded in a city like Hyderabad, but as it was my second pregnancy, everything was going great, and we were leaving the country when I was only five months along, I put off seeing anyone. Once we got to the States, I found myself pursuing different options as I wanted to do everything up-rightly considering I am here on a visitor’s visa. Option after option fell through, each taking a couple of weeks to reveal that they just wouldn’t work out. Finally, I found the right path and started pursing it. I had to get my records to the clinic before they would even make an appointment for me so I signed a record release form. There was troubles there as well and we didn’t get them everything they needed until five days passed. Another fifteen days went by. I felt like nobody cared, that I was in this thing pretty much alone. I had a good cry, found encouragement in the Psalms and from Mary’s situation and then I called the clinic, wondering what was up. The woman was very glad to hear from me as, apparently, they’d been trying to get a hold of me to make an appointment for the past week and a half. Someone had copied my phone number down wrong. Oh the trials, but finally I had an appointment.
Eight days ago I prepared to go in for my first prenatal visit with this baby at seven months pregnant. I found myself feeling very thankful and also apprehensive. I was afraid that I’d be “yelled at” for not having seen a doctor yet and for the fact that I would be moving to another country at eight months pregnant. I also was concerned that I’d be treated like, for lack of another word, “white trash” because the clinic I was going to caters to those who have less income. I determined that I wouldn’t dress the part and chose what I wore carefully, choosing something I feel beautful in. I also took care with my hair and make-up and dressed Aria up in a cute outfit. This may seem like vanity, but it did help bolster my spirits. From the beginning to end of my appointment I was so blessed by how I was treated. I was met with envy over my coming trip to Scotland, empathy, concern, warmness, and encouragement. I just had my second appointment, including a sonogram, on Tuesday and everything is looking good.
by windowSo as we prepare to leave, I know that God is going with us. He knows where this baby will be born, He is the one who protects us, and He has the power to work out every detail. And as I consider the birth of Christ and Mary’s heart during this Christmastime, I am reminded to trust.

3 Responses to “Walking Mary’s Road”

  1. Beth
    December 23rd, 2006 14:19

    How beautiful pregnancy is and how beautiful the thoughts you have written. Truly the Lord is in control and will be the one to guide the hands of whoever delivers this baby. I think you are very right about Mary….it never indicates in the Bible that she was particularly strong…but she trusted…she had a strong faith in the Lord. I consider pregnancy such a precious time….a time when you can minister to your little one in a special way. I know the Lord will bless and protect you both. You look great!!!!

  2. Jayne
    December 27th, 2006 10:01

    How Sweet to hear how God is walking before you Looking forward to seeing pictures of little Jack in a Scottish kilt.

  3. Rachel
    January 2nd, 2007 16:34

    Well…actually we’ll have to make that a Jill;-)

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