Mothers do not have it easy, especially this one: her life was a complex mix of joy and sorrow, worry and hope. The journey from the bier to the cradle symbolises a new beginning and hope.
I am a witness. Witness to an execution. “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” they shouted. “Away with Him, away with Him! Crucify Him!” I saw how they tortured Him. I saw Him carrying the cross to the place of the skull with thorns twisted into a crown on His head. I saw His cross being erected between two criminals. They hammered nails into His hands and feet. Soldiers took His clothes, divided them, and cast lots. I saw how He suffered, how He hung there naked, how they gave Him vinegar to drink, and pierced His side with a spear. I saw the blood dripping and how He cried out, “It is finished.” I saw Him bow His head and die. My son.
I am a mother. I had several children. But my eldest son was special. There has never been anyone like Him before, or since.
But He was not always easy either. When we were invited to a wedding in Cana, the wine ran out. I drew my son’s attention to this, and He replied gruffly, “Woman, what does your concern have to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.” Nevertheless, He performed His first miracle that day—and there was plenty of wine.
Even as a child, He was not easy. After the Passover in Jerusalem, we were just making our way back when He suddenly disappeared. We looked for Him everywhere. None of our relatives had seen Him. We rushed back to Jerusalem. It was only after three days that we found our son in the temple. I said to Him, “Son, why have You done this to us? Look, Your father and I have sought You anxiously.” Even though I did not understand His answer, I kept His words in my heart.
I am a wife. The wife of Joseph from Galilee. I was still very young when we met. He stayed by my side when he had reason to leave me. I was expecting a child, and the child was not His.
For the census, he travelled with me to Bethlehem. My pregnancy was far advanced. My child was born in a stable. We laid the infant in a manger, wrapped in swaddling cloths. People, rich and poor, wanted to see the baby. They gave us generous gifts and told everyone about the birth. I kept the words that were spoken about my son and pondered them in my heart.
I am the blessed one. Blessed because the Lord had done great things for me. When I was already engaged to Joseph, an angel appeared to me. It was Gabriel. I was terrified when He spoke to me, “Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you.” He told me that I would become pregnant: with a son conceived by the Holy Spirit. He told me He will be the Son of God and that I should call Him Jesus. I believed the angel’s promise and agreed.
My name is Miriam. I am the mother of Jesus. Later they called me Mary.
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