Mary’s Hiding Place: A Christmas Mini-Series

Mary’s Hiding Place

by Leslie Crouse

…continued from The Shepherd’s Sword.

~ Fifteen Months Before The Birth Of Christ ~

Mary fell back into the fresh hay finding comfort in the clean, grassy scent of her father stable. Every morning before dawn she came to the stable to pray. Few understood it. But Sarah, her mother, allowed her this time of solitude. When the sun shone upon the roof Joseph would arrive to escort her to the midwife. Another day of tedious house calls.  

Her mother watched from the window. The moment Mary had begun signs of womanhood, Sarah had insisted she train with Nazareth’s midwife. “You are to assist and learn all you can about the female body and birthing process,” she had instructed Mary. “One never knows the turns life can take.” Mother believed in equipping her daughters.

Mary did not like it, but she had already learned much. Besides, her family lacked money for a midwife’s expertise, so her sisters took turns assisting the local midwife as an exchange for services when needed. But the pre-dawn hours were hers.

In the stable Mary could set it all aside and bask in the presence of the LORD. This was her heart. She came to the stable, her hiding place, every morning finding privacy and freedom to dig into prayer. Her father called it intercession. He had instructed her in the lives of Daniel, Moses, Elijah and others. Ancient, spiritual giants, all of them.

Mary was no spiritual giant. All she knew is that she burned with the need to cry out for others. So she prayed until the urgency was replaced with peace. She found joy and purpose in it. Today, her cousin Elizabeth was heavy upon her heart.

A knock sounded at the post below. Has an hour gone by already? She peeked down into the breezeway. She covered her burning face with her hands and cringed. Joseph. As children they had played in the neighbor’s pond, caught frogs from local streams and he had helped her with her lambs. Her best friend. But he had gone and changed everything when he had asked her father’s permission to marry her. Which means he knew. Mary stifled a groan.

How humiliating! Someone – probably her brother – had told him she had begun her monthlies and was of marriageable age now. Joseph was her friend, not her idea of a husband! Regardless, one discussion led to another and now they were legally betrothed.

In celebration of the betrothal, he had built her a manger handcrafted for the lambs she raised. Everyone thought it odd. Mary, however, was begrudgingly moved by it. Together they had saved that struggling lamb. When he gave her the manger he whispered, “May we never forget our unblemished lamb.” Joseph is a good man. And as my husband, he understands my need to pray. At that last thought, her eyes lit up.

Something was shifting in the spiritual realm. She could sense it. There was an eagerness inside of her. An excitement she could hardly contain. The LORD was doing a new thing. An urgency to pray harder than ever before gripped her heart. Whatever the LORD’s plans, she wanted to be a part of it. For her, the LORD was a pearl of great value, worth any price.

Mary prayed daily for Elizabeth. She loved Elizabeth like an aunt because she was so much older than Mary’s cousins. Mary had no idea what was going on, but she knew Herod to be Judea’s arrogant, unpredictable king and Elizabeth’s husband, Zechariah, a priest in the temple. An explosive combination. What forces were at play?

…look for the continuation in Mary’s Visit.

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