A Handmaid to the Lord

“I always wished to serve you Lord.” she softly breathed to herself.  She did not want to let life’s anguish suffocate her believing. She had remained immovable in her faith, even when every baby to be held in her arms at birth would not be her own. She lovingly passed them into the eager arms of the mothers she expertly assisted. 

Her deepest sorrow held in the same space as her hope.  Then a miracle. Her own rounding belly. The unmistakable flutter of life! Each day filled with anticipation and joy. The Lord had remembered her.  

But when the time came, there would be no breath in her sweet boy’s lungs. The pain inside her so deep she wished for her own final exhale.  Pieces of her that she didn’t know existed, broken. This was not the life she had prayed for.

“Cursed” people spoke in whispers.  Once revered for her special abilities as a handmaid to those in labor, now shunned.  She no longer had the strength to serve in bringing life to this world anyway.  Wishing to never hold a baby again if she couldn’t hold her own.

As she walked down the dirt path to the market she wondered at the cruelty of it. Given an exceptional gift to succor women in childbirth; yet never being able to hear the soft cry of her own baby.  Why had she held so much hope? 

 “Hope only magnifies pain, do not be foolish.”  The subtle yet calculated suggestion to her mind had dimmed her belief.  Until this instant of reflection she did not realize how imperceptible the light in her had become. 

She stopped to lean against the mud wall and was comforted by the warmth generously given by the sun.  The market was crowded with little room to move. Her senses invaded by the sounds of bartering and the smell of pungent spices.  Though streets were overflowing, there was more space here compared to where she was staying.  What she wished for was the solace of her home, but circumstances required her and many others to travel to this now bustling town of her birth. 

She allowed her mind to rest. Just as the sounds around her were becoming a calm hum, an unexpected feeling surged in her.  She opened her eyes and her view was immediately guided to a single scene. The busy street seemed empty except for the sight of a young woman who, just as she, was leaning against the support of a wall, her gaze turned upward.

It had been years since she had allowed herself to lower her eyes for more than a glimpse to see the curve of a woman’s blessed womb. The reminder too painful.  But in this moment she could not look away. 

She took in every detail of the young soon to be mother. From the leather braid in her worn sandals to the loose braid in her dark hair that was long enough to rest at the top of her swollen belly.   It was not a hot day but a strand of her hair stuck to her face from the moisture that was coming from her forehead. She watched her and could almost feel the conflicting emotions that displayed on her face. Wonder. Worry. Excitement. Exhaustion. 

She didn’t know her, but there was something she did know without a doubt through years of experience and intuition.  This would be her first child; and she was going to deliver before the night was through. 

Everything was so still and stunning that for a blink she forgot her pain and remembered something else.  Understanding given to her years ago that could not be explained, but no less real.  The knowing that blanketed her once before had come again. She tried to remove it. To tell herself it was foolish, but she could not.

The one prophesied of.  His coming was near.

She perceived it as a young girl and was reminded of it at every birth she was requested to attend.  The one that gave breath and light to every soul would soon breathe the very air He created. She used to try to imagine what it would be like when He came.  What peace and healing would He bring to the world?

Movement from the laboring woman shifted her attention. A sharp intake of breath as her hand instinctively went to her belly. The man who had been in urgent conversation turned to her in concern. She couldn’t make out his words but saw the surrender in his expression as the one he spoke to turned and motioned for him to follow.

Alarm arose in her as she guessed at the situation. Where would this dear woman give birth in this overflowing place?  How long had she traveled in this condition?   Was there someone to help at the birth?  If she had just arrived there would be no time to make such arrangements. 

Curiosity and care wouldn’t let her turn away now. There were other questions in her mind that she was reluctant to acknowledge. What child was this woman carrying?  Why was she reminded of her former hope and knowledge as she looked upon her fruitful womb? Could this be?  

Whatever the answer, she felt drawn to help, so she discreetly followed. The sun was setting and the handmaid began to notice an increase in deliberate pauses as the young woman tried to walk. The birth of her child was very near.

She observed from a distance and was stunned as she watched them being led into the last place she would choose for someone to give birth; a stable.  How she wished she could find a more suitable option, but she knew there was little time. If she was going to offer her service she needed to act quickly.

She pulled up the edges of her worn dress, moving with such determination that the man who was now retreating from the stable took a step back at her approach.  She was surprised at her own surety as she told him she would be assisting this young couple and listed the items she would need. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes but her certainty must have been enough to prevent his questioning. He seemed to absorb her urgency and immediately directed her to all she asked for. 

In little time she held an oil lamp in one hand, rags draped over the same shoulder. A water vessel balanced between her other arm and hip. Her heart sped up even though her steps had slowed. She was about to enter the stable and for the first time she stopped to consider what she was doing. A calm assurance pushed her forward before she could question herself again. 

She lowered her head to enter the small opening of the stable and almost stopped short.  What was this place she was entering? It felt more than just a shelter for animals.  If she wasn’t walking into a stable, she wouldn’t have questioned the sudden desire to remove her shoes. Holy ground.

She had practiced in her mind what she might say to the couple as she entered, but somehow the meeting of their eyes replaced any needed conversation.  A grateful smile was given by both the man and woman, and the handmaid didn’t have to think as she fell into a familiar rhythm. 

Loving reassurance, a gentle touch, guidance to breathe. She moved as if she had witnessed this very moment in a past time.  Everything familiar. The sweet smell of clean straw. Silence aside from the laboring breath. The light of a single lamp casting a golden glow around the mother. A presence of serene strength uncommon in a woman giving birth for the first time.  How was it possible to have memories of something she had never experienced before? 

She matched the mother’s deep inhale with her own, aware that when the exhaled exertion was done, there would only be one more inhale before the baby was here. In those divine seconds the knowing came again. Vivid light of pure heavenly communication overwhelmed her and tears were her only response.

She lifted the baby boy, ensured His first breath, and waited for the small cry.  Time paid no heed to moving forward. The night stood still. He had come, and she knew it.  

Alpha and Omega. Eternity to all Eternity. King of Kings. 

Here He was, power without end yet small enough to catch in her hands. Hands that would never feel empty again.  In her mind the words, “He came. He came for me.  A simple handmaid, the first to hold the one who before had so tenderly held me.”

The healing and peace she once imagined for the entire world at His coming was, in this small moment, just for her.  He knew her.  In his birth, his very first breath, his first miracle was given in mercy.  He was only in her hands for seconds but she was restored for an eternity. 

The handmaid looked at the mother who’s tears matched her own then softly placed Him in her waiting arms.  She eagerly pulled him in, whispered His glorious name, and kissed His forehead.  

Stepping back as the man knelt down, she watched and wondered.  All the broken pieces within her, healed by Him in one inhale. How could a little baby hold such power? She now understood the purpose in every gift, in every trial in her life. It was for this time. If she had never felt that pain she would have never experienced this wholeness. 

She helped bring the Savior of the World into the world. In that action she was made complete. Her immediate desire was that this gift could be given to everyone. It seemed unfair that she was the only one chosen for this purpose.

Then, understanding came to her mind.

Are we not all like handmaids? Sometimes broken and forgotten. Yet, chosen for this time.  Given the great responsibility and honor to help bring the Savior into the world everyday through our words and deeds. In so doing, finding and giving hope and healing.

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You’ve heard it in your mind. Stirred in your soul. The call to assist in this labor.  You, a handmaid to the Lord, steadfast and immovable.  Trusting that upon the servants and upon the handmaids in these days will He pour out His spirit.  Seeking inspiration that you might know how to bring the Savior into the world today.  Given special gifts to help prepare the world for His coming. 

You can find this picture that comes with a printed copy of the story here. Merry Christmas!