Mary had been busy lately. The part-time work she started when her father was ill had lessened but still continued, and on top of her usual housework, she now had to learn what her mother called “bride lessons.” Her days passed in a blur. Although she could rest on the Sabbath, as soon as it ended, her hectic routine would begin again, leaving Mary more and more exhausted. At first, she said she was fine, but soon it became too much. When Mary couldn’t take it anymore, she asked her mother for a day off and finally got one.
On her long-awaited day off, Mary headed to the forest near the village. The forest, lush with trees and bushes, was filled with memories from her childhood. She had explored every corner with her friends. When they were hungry, they’d pick and eat figs, pomegranates, and dates. Sometimes, when she stuffed herself with fruit in the forest, she would throw a tantrum about not wanting dinner, only to be scolded by her mother. Each time, Mary would burst into tears and promise never to do it again, but the same thing happened the next time, and the time after that as well.
Thinking back, she realized she’d been quite a tomboy as a child. Her parents still teased her that she hadn’t changed, and while she always denied it, she knew it was partly true. Had she really grown up since then? Even though she was about to get married, if someone asked her if she actually wanted to, she still couldn’t answer with confidence. She was fine with everything else, but marriage felt different. Maybe she just wasn’t ready yet.
Feeling restless, Mary took a deep breath. After a few more, the cool scent of the forest filled her lungs. Calming herself, she sat on a rock by the path and looked around. White clouds drifted overhead, and the green trees were heavy with fruit. She picked a ripe date from a low-hanging branch and ate it. The sweet taste spread across her tongue. Feeling a bit better, she tried a pomegranate next; its sweet and tart flavor lifted her mood even more.
As Mary looked up, sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, glimmering gently as it touched her eyes. She closed them to shield herself from the light, and in that stillness, she felt a breeze brushing past her. The wind, swirling gently through the forest, felt like an old friend greeting her, as if saying, “It's been a while.”
In that moment, she thought that maybe happiness wasn’t something grand.
Perhaps it depended on how she felt in the midst of small, everyday things—or on how she chose to accept reality. If that was true, then maybe she didn’t have to be so afraid of whatever might lie ahead in her life.
The prophet Isaiah said:
“The wolf will live with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the young goat, the calf, the young lion, and the fattened calf together; and a little child will lead them. The cow and the bear will graze. Their young ones will lie down together. The lion will eat straw like the ox. The nursing child will play near a cobra’s hole, and the weaned child will put his hand on the viper’s den. They will not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of Yahweh, as the waters cover the sea.”
Isaiah had prophesied that one day, when a shoot would come out of the stock of Jesse, the world would know peace. Remembering that promise, Mary felt certain that if she trusted in the Lord, she too would one day share in that peace—just like the peace she felt in that moment.
Mary composed herself and began walking through the forest once more. Surrounded by the beauty of the woods, she thought of the Garden of Eden that God had created. As she reflected on the peace Adam and Eve must have enjoyed there, she found herself almost envying them—until she remembered how they had disobeyed God’s command and fallen into sin. It all began when they were deceived by the serpent and chose to interpret God’s instructions as they wished.
She thought about how, after that event, their lives must have changed completely once they were expelled from Eden. How many agonizing days and nights did they endure that were never recorded—besides the story of Cain and Abel? Having once lived under God’s protection, suddenly cast into a cold, unfamiliar world, their hardships must have been beyond words. Because of those difficult years, perhaps they often recalled what it was like to walk with God—and maybe that longing was why they chose to teach their children, Cain and Abel, about Him.
As Mary imagined Adam and Eve teaching their children not to sin, Joseph suddenly came to mind. Joseph was scrupulous about keeping the law, which is admirable for a Jew, but he had one problem: he felt guilty even over trivial things. Everyone makes mistakes or inconveniences others from time to time, but Joseph suffered from guilt, attaching too much meaning to small matters. He knew this about himself but never tried to change. If life is hard, you can change your attitude, but she couldn’t understand his stubbornness. Whenever he acted this way, Mary doubted whether this marriage was right.
She knew Joseph loved her, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder how long that love would last. If, as the Pharisees taught, any fault were found in her, he might quickly write a certificate of divorce. After all, Joseph was someone who followed the law to the letter. From a man’s perspective, this might seem like a rightful privilege under the law. But for the woman facing such judgment—even if she hadn’t done anything wrong—being declared a sinner by the law would leave her with nowhere to turn.
Lately, Mary realized her growing worries were all because of Joseph, the man she was to marry. Adam was Eve’s only partner, but was Joseph really the one God had chosen for her? Could she and Joseph, with such different ways of thinking, really live together with one heart? She wasn’t sure she could handle Joseph’s weaknesses, or even truly love him. She couldn’t be certain of anything.
Mary wished God would give her a sign. It wasn’t that Joseph lacked faith—he was clearly a man of faith, just as she’d hoped. The problem was, his faith looked different from what she’d imagined. Her worry came from not knowing whether this was true faith or not.
Would life with him really be happy? She didn’t expect someone with wealth, looks, or status—unlike her friend who was already married. But even without those things, their hearts should at least be in harmony—yet when she looked at Joseph now, all she felt was frustration. She feared that life with him might turn out to be just as suffocating.
Her family members were assertive and quick to judge right from wrong, and even when their judgments were wrong, they didn’t dwell on them for long or take things too personally. Joseph, however, was the exact opposite. He was easily hurt and carried that hurt with him for much longer than necessary. He overthought everything and tended to keep those thoughts to himself, often arriving at conclusions that were excessive or even misguided. She couldn’t understand why talking with her felt like such a burden to him—why he avoided even the simplest conversations.
She also disliked how Joseph was always so mindful of her reactions. He called it consideration, but didn’t realize it sometimes made him seem almost servile. If it were just with her, she might understand, but he did it with everyone, and she really disliked that. Why couldn’t he live with more confidence?
Sometimes, when she was upset, he would apologize even if it wasn’t his fault, which only made her angrier. Her older friends used to complain about how men always tried to fix women’s problems, and now she totally understood. They just made things worse by trying to fix what could have been solved by simply listening and empathizing. She didn’t understand why men did this.
Was marrying Joseph really the right choice? She hadn’t been given the freedom to choose her own husband, and now that the marriage contract was already written, there didn’t seem to be anything she could do. Still, who could say what might happen in the next few months? If some legal reason for annulment were to arise, he might end the marriage after brooding over it on his own—as he always did. Of course, if it came to that, it would mean something serious had happened to her. In that case, it wouldn’t be the end of the marriage that should worry her, but whatever had caused it.
The passage from Isaiah 11:6–9 quoted in this narrative is taken directly from the World English Bible (WEB) translation.
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