Miracle Morning Sickness

Unlike Mary, the future mother of Jesus, and Zechariah, the future father of John the Baptist, my husband and I did not see angels when we learned we would be parents.

Medical tests confirmed our first child was under construction.

New life! A shiny, brand-new person would enter human history. She/he would share bits of us — my passion for music, his gift for logic. My big ears. Hubby’s long, finger-like toes. Still, no one before or ever again would be like this child.

Our Christmas miracle, as my pregnancy was verified during December.

Other confirmations seemed less wonderful. Entering Grandma and Grandpa’s kitchen Christmas morning, I stopped dead in my tracks. And nearly fainted.

The fragrance of Grandma’s spareribs, usually mouth-watering, spun my stomach onto a nonstop Tilt-a-whirl® ride. Our teeny-tiny daughter, who later adored Christmas cookies, ate zero that day. No spareribs, either.

Soon my waistline, then my feet, vanished. I felt like an enormous, stuffed ottoman. One guy, playing a game at my couples’ shower, guessed my belly measurement at seven feet.

He should not have lived to procreate. Because his wife was my friend, I allowed it.

Given the joys of pregnancy and delivery, how does the human race continue?

Yet according to the biblical account written by Dr. Luke, elderly Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, longed for that miracle. Marginalized by a culture that devalued those suffering from infertility, the devout couple had given up their dream of a child.

Then Gabriel, an angel, appeared to the freakedout priest, proclaiming they would have a son.

“Yeah, right.” Even an angel’s visit did not convince Zechariah.

Elizabeth probably found it easier to believe, but morning sickness was not a spiritual experience. Soon, even Zechariah recognized something odd was happening. As Elizabeth’s baby bump swelled under her old-lady dresses, their faith grew, too.

Meanwhile, Gabriel visited Nazareth, scaring the daylights out of a teen girl. In Mary’s culture, respectable men did not talk to respectable women. This stranger made her want to run. Yet she knew she should stop and listen.

Gabriel greeted Mary as the soon-to-be mother of the Messiah.

Her jaw dropped to her feet. Mary was engaged, not married. She had not been with Joseph or anyone else.

This intruder was delusional, maybe dangerous. If I had been Mary, I would have called 911.

Instead, she believed he came from God. Mary offered herself to whatever He had in store.

The days following the Annunciation were not spiritual. Did Mary try to hide morning sickness from her parents? When Joseph — still distanced, according to custom — smiled at her, did she duck behind the nearest building?

Or did she relate the angel’s message? Apparently, no one leaked the news to Nazareth’s Nosy Network — another miracle. Otherwise, Mary might have been questioned by rabbis ready to cast the first stone.

The angel also had informed Mary that Elizabeth, her ageing relative, was pregnant, too.

This, Mary had to see. Had Gabriel shared God’s truth? Or was that stranger crazier than she?

When Elizabeth opened the door, Mary’s festering doubts disappeared. Her big-bellied relative greeted Mary as the mother of her Lord.

Elizabeth knew. Mary didn’t have to explain. Or hide.

The two pregos could repeat their stories without boring each other. They could gripe about swelling feet. They could complain ad nauseum about nausea and the fact neither could stand to smell spareribs.

Both, however, had developed a craving for pickled goat. If Zechariah balked at buying it, Mary did.

With her strong, young body, she accomplished many tasks creaky Elizabeth could not. But the older woman’s lifelong faith, despite much hardship, strengthened the teenager’s. God, who already had done miracles in their lives, wasn’t finished yet.

Because He gave those pregnant women each other, Elizabeth could face motherhood and people asking if John was her grandson. Mary could go home to her parents. Face Joseph. Face rabbis with rocks.

Mary would need more miracles. Still, Elizabeth was right. God wasn’t finished yet.

Because Mary accepted stressing along with blessing, Jesus came and redeemed humankind.

Today, His miracles may also be accompanied by not-so-spiritual complications, some nastier than morning sickness.

But God still works in our lives. Even in 2020. He will work during 2021.

God’s not finished yet.