Most all of us know who she was, or at least what she did. Mary. The mother of Jesus.
Every Christmas we see images of her on a camel or in a cave with animals. We see her portrayed in movies and read about her in books.
But sometimes we forget that she was very young. Just on the cusp of adolescence.
We forget the whispers that were often thrown around about pregnant young girls who were not married in a culture that held modesty and propriety in such high esteem.
We often fail to mention that as soon as she started to show Joseph considered ending their relationship.
She was hurting. She was in an impossible situation.
When that angel came to her, she knew the consequences that loomed before her. The angry stares, the whispers. What would it be like when her father found out?
God had been silent for years. Miracles of this magnitude were unheard of. Would anyone believe her story?
But there had been a promise. A promise of redemption. A removal of shame and guilt.
Despite what lay before her, Mary had hope, an expectation that God would put things right. She said she belonged to Lord and willingly faced her future, certain of the Hope of the promise.