Mary had been rather busy of late. The part-time work she had taken up when her father was ill had eased but still continued, and alongside her usual household chores, 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 anew, leaving Mary increasingly exhausted. At first, she maintained that she was managing fine, but before long it became too much. When Mary truly couldn’t cope any longer, she asked her mother for a day off and, at last, was granted one.
On her much-anticipated day off, Mary made her way to the woodland near the village. The forest, lush with trees and undergrowth, was thick with memories from her childhood. She had explored every corner with her friends; when they became hungry, they would pick and eat figs, pomegranates, and dates. Sometimes, when she had filled herself with fruit from the woods, 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.
Reflecting, she realised 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 there was some truth to it. Had she really grown up since then? Even though she was about to marry, if someone asked her whether she truly wanted to, she still couldn’t answer with certainty. She was fine with everything else, but marriage felt different. Perhaps she simply wasn’t ready.
Feeling restless, Mary took a deep breath. After a few more, the cool scent of the forest filled her lungs. Calming herself, she sat down on a rock by the path and looked about her. 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 lingered on her tongue. Feeling slightly better, she tried a pomegranate next; its sweet and tart flavour lifted her mood all the more.
Looking up, Mary saw sunlight filtering through the thick canopy, glimmering gently as it touched her eyes. She closed them to shield herself from the light, and, in that stillness, felt a breeze brush past her. The wind, swirling softly through the forest, felt like an old friend greeting her, as if saying, “It's been a while”.
In that moment, she thought that perhaps happiness wasn’t something grand. It might depend on how one found meaning in the small, everyday things—or on one’s ability to accept reality. If so, perhaps there was no real reason to fear 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 the LORD, 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 woods once more. Surrounded by the beauty of the forest, 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 had all begun when they were deceived by the serpent and chose to interpret God’s instructions as they saw fit.
She thought about how, after that event, their lives must have changed utterly once they were expelled from Eden. How many harrowing days and nights did they endure that were never recorded—apart from the story of Cain and Abel? Having once lived under God’s protection, then 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 sense of longing led them 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 in his observance of the law, which was admirable in a Jew, yet he had one problem: he felt guilty even over trivial things. Everyone made mistakes or inconvenienced others from time to time, but Joseph suffered from guilt, attaching too much significance to every small matter. He knew this about himself but never seemed inclined to change. If life became hard, one could change one’s attitude, but she couldn’t comprehend his stubbornness. Whenever he behaved in 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 promptly write a certificate of divorce. After all, Joseph was someone who adhered to the law to the letter. From a man’s perspective, this might appear a legitimate privilege under the law. But for the woman facing such judgement—even if she had done nothing wrong—the moment she was declared a sinner by the law, there would be nowhere to turn.
Lately, Mary realised her mounting worries were all because of Joseph, the man she was to marry. Adam had been Eve’s only partner, but was Joseph truly the one God had chosen for her? Could she and Joseph, with ways of thinking so different, really live together with one heart? She was not sure she could cope with Joseph’s weaknesses, or even truly love him. She could be certain of nothing.
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 had hoped. The problem was, his faith looked different from what she had imagined. Her worry stemmed from not knowing whether this was genuine faith or not.
Would life with him truly be happy? She didn’t expect someone with wealth, looks, or status—unlike her friend who was already married. Yet even without such things, their hearts ought to be in harmony; but when she observed Joseph now, all she felt was frustration. She feared that life with him might become just as suffocating.
Her family were assertive and quick to judge right from wrong, and even if they were mistaken, they didn’t dwell on it for long or take things too personally. Joseph, however, was quite the opposite. He was easily wounded and carried the pain with him for far too long. He overthought everything and tended to keep those thoughts to himself, often reaching conclusions that were excessive or even misguided. She could not understand why even the simplest conversation felt such a trial for him—why he avoided it so persistently.
She also disliked how Joseph was always so mindful of her reactions. He called it consideration, but did not realise it sometimes made him seem almost servile. If it were only with her, she might have understood, but he acted the same with everyone, and she thoroughly disliked that. Why couldn’t he carry himself with more confidence?
Sometimes, when she was upset, he would apologise even when it was not 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 could entirely relate. They merely made things worse by trying to fix what could have been settled with a little listening and empathy. She never could understand why men behaved in this way.
Was marrying Joseph really the right choice? She had not been given the freedom to choose her own husband, and now that the marriage contract was already signed, there seemed to be little she could do. Still, who could say what might happen in the coming months? Should some legal grounds for annulment arise, he might end the marriage after brooding over it on his own—as he always did. Of course, if it came to that, something serious must have happened to her. In such a case, it would not be the dissolution of the marriage she should worry about, but what had caused it.
The passages from Isaiah 11:6–9 quoted in this narrative are taken directly from the World English Bible (WEBBE) translation.
