Elizabeth (Rolf Olson)
Zechariah and I had been childless for so long that we had made our peace with it. For a priest of his importance, it was embarrassing for my husband, but he took it as God’s will for his life and, like I said, had made his peace. We had no hopes for a child, but one astounding day he came home, breathless and agitated. God’s messenger had visited him while he was serving at the temple, and after finishing his duties, Zechariah rushed home to me. This hope caught us completely unprepared, but we had wanted a child for so many years that we both wept with joy.
A few months into my “hope” as I called it, a young relative of mine from outside of Jerusalem came to visit. Mary arrived when I was in my third month, and when Mary came through the door, the child kicked me so hard I startled her by crying out. But to my surprise, she had some amazing news of her own. She was expecting a child, too. As we embraced, I felt the Holy Spirit stir, and these words were out of my mouth before my thoughts could form them, “You are the most blessed of all women, and blessed is the child you will bear! Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me? When I heard your voice at the door, my baby jumped for joy inside me. How happy you are to believe that the Lord's message to you will come true!”
Mary stayed with us for three months until she was called away to go with Joseph, her betrothed, to his home village, Bethlehem. Meanwhile, I made my neighbors and relatives giddy with joy when this old woman gave birth to a son shortly after Mary had gone home. Of course, everyone thought our boy should be named after his father Zechariah. I knew otherwise. His name came to me with the hope that had brought Mary to me, the hope that Zechariah had carried home from the temple nine months before, and the hope of the blessings to come that our son would proclaim.
I said, “No! He is to be called John!” And I knew as I called out his name, that he would be witness to the greatest hope of all--the Son of God.
A few months into my “hope” as I called it, a young relative of mine from outside of Jerusalem came to visit. Mary arrived when I was in my third month, and when Mary came through the door, the child kicked me so hard I startled her by crying out. But to my surprise, she had some amazing news of her own. She was expecting a child, too. As we embraced, I felt the Holy Spirit stir, and these words were out of my mouth before my thoughts could form them, “You are the most blessed of all women, and blessed is the child you will bear! Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me? When I heard your voice at the door, my baby jumped for joy inside me. How happy you are to believe that the Lord's message to you will come true!”
Mary stayed with us for three months until she was called away to go with Joseph, her betrothed, to his home village, Bethlehem. Meanwhile, I made my neighbors and relatives giddy with joy when this old woman gave birth to a son shortly after Mary had gone home. Of course, everyone thought our boy should be named after his father Zechariah. I knew otherwise. His name came to me with the hope that had brought Mary to me, the hope that Zechariah had carried home from the temple nine months before, and the hope of the blessings to come that our son would proclaim.
I said, “No! He is to be called John!” And I knew as I called out his name, that he would be witness to the greatest hope of all--the Son of God.
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