We were ready and filled with expectancy. The Savior of the world was to be born, known only to Joseph and me. Then, came the startling news about the census of Caesar Augustus and the need to go to Bethlehem. We had gotten used to our plans being changed by God’s will.

We prepared and left. All of the villagers understood our dilemma. We were pilgrims, going to a strange city at the most inopportune moment. Still, we rejoiced like so many others had rejoiced because the time of birth drew near.

My breasts were full, ready to feed the newborn child. We brought all that he would need. Our journey was a poor person’s journey, on a donkey. During these days, our love grew. In my many needs, I loved Joseph even more. Nothing was too much for him. I said very little. He provided everything ahead of time, always thoughtful.

Bethlehem was not ready for us. There was no room where travelers are accustomed to stay. So, the birth took place in a stable, the best known stable in the whole world. I was identified with the poor and took my place among those who are rejected and are set aside as of little importance. There, I would always stay, offering to the poor the milk of my comfort.

My eyes saw the human face of God. The birth was miraculous, a virgin birth without any of the pains and sufferings, the way birth was meant to be “in the beginning”; the way Eve was meant to give birth before she transgressed and lost her gifts. I saw life as it was meant to be, a woman rejoicing in her newborn child without suffering the pangs of childbirth. My pangs would come at Calvary where I brought forth all my other children. For now, that scene seemed so far away. That would be the end. This was the beginning.

The birth was miraculous but everything else was quite ordinary, but how could anything from now on be ordinary? Yet, I must say again, everything was just like it would be if the child were not God. We had to provide for him. We had to protect him. We had all the duties of new parents. Yet, he was in our midst. With him in our midst, nothing could be just ordinary.