Three Days: A Mother's Story Read Online Free PDF

hay almost reminded me of the earthy smell of my garden. Or so I told myself.
    “This is perfect,” I assured my worried husband.
    He lit an oil lamp and found fresh straw to make a bed in the most protected corner of the stable. He covered the straw with the woolen blankets we had carried with us. I did my best to make myself comfortable and even attempted to sleep between the birthing pains, but soon it was time to push the baby from my womb.
    I prayed for mercy as I squatted and attempted to relax my muscles, just as my mother had instructed me to do in the quick birthing lesson she gave me shortly before we left Nazareth. And then, when the moment seemed right, I bore down hard, gripping my husband’s hand until I actually saw him wince. He later told me he only winced because he knew I was in such pain.
    Then, after several unsuccessful pushes and feeling that this child might never be born, I cried out to Jehovah for strength, and it was in the very next push that I felt something give within me, and I knew the child was emerging. Joseph seemed to know exactly what to do as he caught and then cradled the slippery babe in his strong hands. He had even brought along a clean knife to sever the cord. He confessed afterward that my mother had spoken to him as well. Wise woman, my mother.
    Confident that both my son and I were in good hands, I fell quickly to sleep and was surprised to later awaken to the sound of infant cries. But then I remembered. My son was rubbed clean and wrapped with the soft linen cloths I had packed specifically for that use. Joseph had even created a makeshift cradle from one of the feeding mangers. He padded the rough wooden trough first with straw and then soft hay, then lined it with a blanket folded several times over. A perfect little bed!
    He smiled proudly as he placed the squirming bundle of life into my arms. And then, holding up his hands and looking to the heavens, Joseph proclaimed our son’s name aloud. “We will call him Jesus.” Then my husband knelt in an act of worship and said, “Glory be to the Son of the Most High. He will deliver his people from evil.”
    As if in a dream, I studied the small, wrinkled red face and the downy-soft swirls of hair. I counted the delicate fingers, examining each perfectly formed nail. And I cannot deny that those wide, dark eyes looking up at me with such trust were truly amazing. But then it always seems nothing short of miraculous when a total and complete human being emerges so perfect from the womb. Even so, when I gazed down at this tiny bundle resting in my arms, all I saw was a baby. A beautiful baby, no doubt. What mother does not think so? But he did not look particularly holy. There was no angelic aura about him, and he smelled perfectly human to this mother’s nose. And so I took him to my breast and thanked God for granting me such a divine gift.
    This is not to make this event seem ordinary. Believe me, nothing was ordinary about the night my son was born. First of all, both Joseph and I had noticed the most incredible star lighting up the cobalt sky. We were amazed at its shimmering brilliance, unlike anything we had seen before or since, and we felt certain that it was a sign from Jehovah—as if to announce that his Son was coming into the world.
    And then, of course, there were the shepherds. They arrived quite suddenly in the middle of the night. Wide-eyed and with grass in their hair, they fell to their knees to worship our son. At first I was astonished that they had even known what was happening or how to find us, but then they explained how angels—many, many angels—had appeared to them on the hillside, waking them from a sound sleep to announce that a king and savior had been born and to tell them where to find us.
    Joseph laughed after the shepherds finally departed, saying, “Blessed be our Lord, Mary. Look at how our mighty God resists the proud and reveals himself to the humble.”
    I smiled at our temporary