Beth Moore - Things Pondered: From the Heart of a Lesser Woman

IN MEMOERY OF MY MOTHER

Whose feverish love for a word

fitly spoken endlessly inspires my own.

This offering is as much from her as to her.

Mary treasured up all these things and

pondered them in her heart.

LUKE 2:19

They were disappointed the moment they saw her. She even cried like a girl. They wanted a boy. That didn't mean they wouldn't love her. It just meant they were like every other set of Hebrew parents, hoping they would be the ones. They had no idea they had just given birth to the mother of God.

They named her Mary. The name meant bitter. It was a name which may have described her calling, but it did not define her character. Little more than a child herself, she received the stunning news of the angel with grace and humility. Likely, Gabriel was relieved that he did not encounter the same insult he had with Zechariah. No wonder Elizabeth had exclaimed, As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who believed! (Luke 1: 4445). Her husband hadn't believed and not a single murmur from his lips had reached her ears in six months.

Mary had run to her the moment she had received the news. She hadn't hurried to her mother, father, friends, or fianc. She had run to Elizabeth. How tender the God who shared with her through an angel that someone nearby could relate. The two women had one important predicament in commonquestionable pregnancies, sure to stir up some talk. Elizabeth hadn't been out of the house in months. It makes you wonder why. As happy as she was, it must have been strange not to blame her sagging figure and bumpy thighs on the baby. And to think she was forced to borrow maternity clothes from her friends' granddaughters. But maybe Elizabeth and Mary were too busy talking between themselves to pay much attention. Can you imagine their conversation over tea? One too old; the other too young. One married to an old priest; the other promised to a young carpenter. One heavy with child; the other with no physical evidence to fuel her faith. But God had graciously given them each other with a bond to braid their lives forever.

Women are like that, aren't they? We long to find someone who has been where we've been, who shares our fragile places, who sees our sunsets with the same shades of blue. Soul mates. They somehow validate the depth of our experiences. It is doubtful we have experienced much to which Mary could not relate. Through the course of her journey on this planet, she would experience fear, rejection, loneliness, disappointment, and heart break. She would know what it was like to have one child so entirely different from her others. She would battle sibling rivalry and yearn for her children to love one another. She would one day urge her oldest son to reach his potential, and although He would question her timing, He would nonetheless perform the miracle she requested. She would also confront her evolving role as the mother of an adult son. He would be no longer at her constant beck and call. And, ultimately, the woman highly favored by God would have to consider if the risk of loving was worth the risk of losing. Her small, suffering frame at the scene of her Son's death would prove to be testimony. One day, all those things would come. But in the meantime, as a young girl, she made something her practice that far surpassed her age or experience. She learned to catch a moment in her hand before it flew away and hold it tightly while she had the chance.

Luke's Gospel (2:818 KJV) tells it like this

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

And what about the young virgin mother?

But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. (v. 19)

Pondered. It's a wonderful word. It is the practice of casting many things together, combining them and considering them as one. In that moment a host of memories must have been dancing in her head. The angel's appearance. His words. Her flight to the hill country of Judea. Elizabeth's greeting. Their late-night conversations. The first time she noticed her tummy was rounding. Joseph's face when he saw her. The way she felt when he believed. The whispers of neighbors. The doubts of her parents. The first time she felt the baby move inside of her. The dread of the long trip. The reality of being full-term, bouncing on the back of a beast. The first pain. The fear of having no place to bear a child. The horror of the nursery. The way it looked.

The way it smelled. The way He looked. God so frail. So tiny. So perfect. Love so abounding. Grace so amazing. Wise men bowed down. Shepherds made haste. Each memory like treasures in a box. She gathered the jewels, held them to her breast, and engraved them on her heart forever.

The following pages are my responses to her worthy example. Words from a life absent of her lofty calling and excellent character. Experiences of an average woman, wife, and mother written to invite you to remember your own.

These are things pondered.

I should have been ready. It was an event I had prepared for all my life. But right at that moment, my wedding dress itched, my hair was bushier than my veil, and I couldn't get to a mirror for my bridesmaids. It was just as well. I was bound to be disappointed that the glamour of a film star was not included in the rental of my wedding gown.

This was not the way my sister, Gay, and I had played it. We had hosted at least a thousand rehearsal dinners with our Barbies and a bag of Fritos. Calendaring was certainly not the problem. I had always known that I would marry at Christmas of my twenty-first year. (That's how old Mother told me Barbie was. According to Mother, she had finished college before she married Ken.) I never had a wedding dress for my Barbie, but Mom had given me the most beautiful red velvet dress for her I had ever seen. I used it instead, which is exactly why she always had to have a Christmas wedding. Sure enough, it was December 30, and although I had on a traditional candlelight gown, my six bridesmaids were enchanting in their red Christmas dresses with capes, all carrying lanterns.