24/12/2025
Mary woke before dawn, the kind of waking that feels different in the body before the mind understands it. As she shifted, she noticed the dampness, unmistakable, her mucus plug had passed. Her breath caught, part wonder, part fear. Soon after, gentle tightenings came and went, inconsistent, almost teasing. She placed a hand on her belly, whispering a quiet prayer. Today was not meant for labour. Today they were still on the road, headed for the census, far from home, far from comfort.
As the morning stretched on, the contractions returned, then faded, then returned again. Her heart carried mixed feelings. Joy that the time was near. Anxiety because the timing felt all wrong. She was not surrounded by familiar women, not resting in a safe place. She was on a journey, dusty roads beneath them, uncertainty ahead. Joseph watched her closely, asking with his eyes if she was alright. She nodded, though her body told a deeper story.
The road grew harder as the hours passed. Sitting on the horse became unbearable. Each tightening made her grip the reins and lean forward, breathing through it, counting silently. Walking helped a little, but even that was slow now. Step by step, pause by pause. Joseph led the animal gently, his mind racing. This child, conceived by the Holy Spirit. This child, promised to be great. And here they were, with no roof assured, no plan except obedience.
As evening approached, the contractions no longer wandered. They came with purpose, closer now, stronger. Mary no longer tried to hide them. She stopped when they came, closed her eyes, and remembered the angel’s words. She pondered them again, just as she always had. Fear and faith wrestled quietly within her. The promise was sure, yet the moment was overwhelming.
They knocked. No guest inn had space. Doors closed gently, apologetically. "Sorry, we can't take more..."
Then Joseph saw it. A faint light in the distance, flickering against the darkening sky. As they drew closer, it became clear it was a shelter, a place for animals. Hope stirred, fragile but real. Mary leaned into another contraction, her breathing deeper now, her steps slower. Every movement required focus. Every sound felt louder. The pains were no longer waiting.
Joseph’s thoughts crowded his mind as he looked back at Mary, laboring under the weight of heaven’s promise. She stood quietly, holding her belly, another wave rising, the words of the angel echoing in her heart. And in that moment, with the light flickering nearby and the night pressing in, the world seemed to hold its breath.
