She was of that age of irrelevance in her society, not yet married but soon to be where only men held esteem and were valued. What she had to say was of little value to those around her and when her “situation” became more apparent it seemed almost everyone had something to say about it. Her neighbors couldn’t believe she was “that kind of girl” and her parents were so horrified they would barely look at her. Her mother’s eyes conveyed the message “how could you do this to us?” in shrill tones. The young men eyed her in a way that made her want to cover herself and even the Roman soldiers seemed to know something. Her friends judged and misjudged her in whispered and not so whispered tones.
She had tried to tell them but they would not listen or believe. So she held her head up and looked them in the eye. They thought it was rebellion and defiance. They didn’t know that she carried God very God within her, the Uncontainable one contained within her young womb. That she would soon give birth to the one who would bring healing to the nations, life to those who were dead. That power and presence and love unimaginable was about to be born on a stable floor, as a baby. They did not believe, how could anyone believe such a ridiculous story?