(Last year for Christmas I wrote a four-part story from Mary’s perspective about the birth of Jesus. This year, I am going to take a fictional perspective from a young lady named Cora, Mary’s best friend. No, she is not real, but I imagine that Mary must have had somebody like Cora in her life. So, without further ado, here is Cora’s story.)
It was unbearably hot. I could barely breathe from the oppressive heat, much less work inside my dirty, muggy house. I asked my mother if I could take a break and go visit Mary, my best friend. I was given permission, and so I began the five-minute trek to Mary’s home. While I walked I thought of all of the things Mary and I had done together. Since we were knee-high babies, we had played and laughed together. We were never separated for long, and I was grateful to have such a faithful, inspiring friend.
Mary was always sweet and kind, and I had rarely seen her become angry. I trusted Mary completely and knew that she was my faithful friend and confidante. Never had I had a reason to distrust her or doubt her words. After pondering all of this, I had finally reached Mary’s house. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I could smell bread baking, and I knew that Mary or someone had to be home. I knocked louder, and upon hearing no response, I lightly pushed the door open. Peeking inside, I saw a strange sight.
There was Mary, on her knees in the middle of her family’s house, eyes scrunched shut and tears pouring down her face. I thought that surely something must have happened to her. Had someone hurt her?
“Mary. Mary!” I cried frantically. Her eyes flew open in surprise, and I saw something in her eyes that I had never seen before: wide-eyed wonder. “Mary, what has happened? Is it your family? Say something!” I pleaded. Her mouth opened and closed without uttering a word, and I was clueless as to what had happened to my poor, beautiful Mary.
“It’s all right, Cora. I’m fine. More than fine, actually. I’ve just seen an angel!” Mary said, glowing in a way I had never seen before.
“Mary, you must be feverish! Let me help you to your bed…” I soothed. “No, Cora. I am not feverish. I am with child,” Mary stated calmly. It was now my turn to open and close my mouth soundlessly. My Mary, my pure, honest Mary was pregnant. How? What had she done? Was it her fiancé, Joseph’s fault? Who had done this to her.
She must have seen the thoughts racing through my head as she placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Cora, I am a virgin still. This baby is born by the will of God. He is allowing me to be the mother of the son of God who will come to save the world from all of this sin and turmoil!”
Something inside of me snapped and I felt bitterness begin to flood my body. “How could you, Mary? How could you lie to my face like this! I may not be married, but I know of the way a child is conceived. That God gave this babe to you is a lie. A lie! How could you convince yourself of such nonsense? Do you really think that Joseph is going to believe that notion? Do you think he will be pleased with your news? I think not. Mary, how can you lie to my face?” I cried, real tears pouring down my face.
“Cora, please! I have not done what you say. I am a virgin!” Mary sobbed, pain and sorrow overshadowing her beautiful features. Anger rose up inside of me, and I shook Mary by the shoulders. “You lie to yourself, Mary. I cannot be friends with a hypocrite,” I said angrily.
Mary’s heart-wrenching sobs only doubled the pain in my heart, and I began to walk to the door. “Mary, I will not be back until you confess your sin and stop lying to yourself. I am no longer your friend,” I said coldly.
I put one foot outside the door and Mary said quietly, “One day, you will see, Cora. One day, you will know that I carry the Messiah.”
Bitterness hardened my heart and I sent one last angry look at Mary before stepping outside and slamming the door. My sweet Mary was a hypocrite and I would never look at her again. Never.
To be continued…
2 years ago