Mary, Did You Know?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?

Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm the storm with his hand?

Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?

And when you kiss your little baby, you kissed the face of God.

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.

The lamb will leap, the dove will speak, the praises of the lamb.

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?

Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?

That sleeping child you're holding is the great I am

This is my all time favorite Christmas song. I love this version; the harmonies, the dissonance, the simplicity of the music video, the facial expressions, the rawness of the acapella rendition, the candles, all of it. I tear up every single time I listen to it. But even more important than all of those things, I love the lyrics.

Can you imagine meeting Mary today? Go to the land of "What If" for a moment and just make-believe with me. Imagine that Jesus had past away about 15 years ago. Mary had Jesus when she was a teenager, he died thirty three years later, and about fifteen years after that I would assume that Mary would be in her early/mid sixties. 

Pretend you're walking with Mary in a local marketplace. It's hot, the two of you have been shopping for a variety of fruits and vegetables for a dinner at church the following evening, but you stopped at the well in the middle of the marketplace for a drink of water. Mary hands you her pot that she had been patiently carrying on her back all morning and asks you fill it for her. She walks over to a shady spot under the tree and closes her eyes to rest for a few moments from the long day of shopping. You watch as strands of her grey hair shake loose from the wind and begin to peek out from under the scarf wrapped around her head. She has a forever smile that plays on the edges of her lips, regardless of what she seems to be talking about. She's just the kind of woman who is constantly filled with joy. You only met her a day or two ago when you were passing through town when you were visiting a local church, but when she overheard you asking another local if she knew of any places in the area you could stay for the night she eagerly stepped up and offered you the extra bed she had in her home. 

You walk over towards her with the water, she opens her eyes, and thanks you continuously for filling it for her. She takes a few sips and then offers it to you. As you sip the cold water you feel it slide down your dry throat and practically spread to every inch of your hot, tired body. The two of you sit under the shade tree watching the children play a game with some rocks a few feet away. After about fifteen minutes of sitting quietly, you get the guts to ask her. 

"Mary, may I ask you a question?" 

She smiles "Sure, go ahead." 

You clear your throat. Even after drinking the water, it suddenly feels very dry again and you start to get nervous. "When you held the baby in your arms in the stable so many years ago, did you have any idea as to the great things He would do?" 

With her eyes, she gives you a deeper and kinder smile that teases you for more information. "Like what?" 

"Well...did you have any inclination that He would perform inconceivable miracles like giving sight to the blind, walking on water, or raising the dead back to life? Did you know that that little, helpless infant would grow up to be a man who would literally carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and die so that sinners could one day live with him in paradise? Did you have any idea?" 

She takes a long sip of her water, sits back, and looks pensively at the same children who were now chasing each other in circles. You hold your breath, worried you've asked a question that she might think is too personal. When she finally speaks, you release a sigh of relief and listen intently. 

"I had no idea." Her eyes close as she remembers the night from so many years ago. "I was such a young girl when he was born. And honestly? I was afraid. Here I was, with my husband and surrounded by animals in a stable, and strangers slowly trickling in to worship to this infant King that I had just given life to. I had no idea what would happen next. I was worried that I wouldn't be a good mother, or at least not one worth raising the Savior of the entire world." Her eyes welled up with tears. "But God provided. He provided a peace for my anxieties, and He always provided a way to care for our sweet little family...No sweet friend, I had no idea of the things the Son of God would do in the lifetime He was given here on earth. I knew He would do great things, but I never imagined." 

Her eyes welled up with tears as she smiled and lifted her head up to the sun that was glowing down on us from the sky. I reached out and touched her hand, and she turned her head and smiled yet again. 

"I miss him," she whispered, "but I know I get to see my little boy again in heaven one day because he provided a way for me to be forgiven for my sins and live in paradise forever."

I Don't Know...

I don't know how to explain it to you- or anybody for that matter.

I don't know how to tell you that I can't go to your party on Thursday night because you have a small apartment and it's going to be crowded...and I just can't do small crowded places.

I don't know how to tell you that I'm sorry I cancelled our plans for Friday night...again...but being out other times this week has left me drained, grumpy, and feeling on edge.

I don't know how to tell you that having anxiety does not make me a self-loathing, worrisome, introvert that won't talk to people. [I can do just about anything if you give me enough of a heads up.]

I don't know how to tell you that I want to sit in the back of the room or to the side because I want to be able to slip out easily if I start to have an anxiety attack.

I don't know how to tell you that when I'm in "freak out" mode there's nothing you can say to fix it. I need you to let me freak out, maybe yell at you if necessary, and then when I calm down let me rationally discuss my fears with you.

I don't know how to tell you that I don't want to give a toast or a talk at your [insert significant occasion here.] I will if I have to, and I will if I spontaneously feel led to, but to talk in front of a large group of people is one of the most terrifying things you can ask me to do.

I don't know how to tell you what it feels like. I don't know how to explain that it feels as though there are about 15 college sized textbooks pressing down on my chest, a hundred needles poking my arms and legs, a pounding in my head that won't let up, my own voice in my head playing the worst case scenario over and over like a horrible late night commercial that just won't stop, and utter fear racing through my veins....for often times no reason.

I don't know how to tell you how embarrassed I get. When I was in high school someone found me hyperventilating in a corner of the church while we were playing a hide and go seek kind of game, and ran to tell my youth pastor that they thought I was dying. When I was at Frosh Camp I went to the bathroom and cried for an hour because I was so overwhelmed. A few months ago I got pulled over for speeding and the police officer kept telling me to stop crying/breathing so hard and sign the ticket before he called an ambulance to come and administer oxygen. Early this last summer I landed in the ER because of a panic attack. In 8th grade I ran off the stage in the middle of the Hallelujah chorus, down the aisle of a church, through the back doors, and into the bathroom. (I know that I briefly considered leaving the building altogether, but then panicked over what my mother would do if I ran out of the building entirely.) Last week, I had to leave a meeting and take a walk because I felt an attack brewing, and when I walked back in everyone was in the middle of something. I don't enjoy it. I don't do it for attention. I don't like talking about it. I don't like what anxiety does to my body, and I don't like what I miss out on in life because of it.

I don't know what to say back when you tell me to pray about it or that I shouldn't be worried about anything. I know that. I have bible verses on a post it note in my car. I have a playlist of worship songs on my iPod that have words to perfectly describe God as our comfort, our rock, and our protector when we feel afraid. And as much as I appreciate you trying to help, I need you to pat me on the shoulder and tell me that it's just going to be okay. I need you to remind me that God is going to take care of me, and that I shouldn't hate myself or beat myself up over it.

I don't know how to tell you that I feel SO much better than I used to. I don't take medication for it anymore. (But I don't think there is anything wrong AT ALL for those who need it.) I don't skip school or classes because I'm afraid of failing. I don't stare down at my feet for the entirety of a choir performance. I don't skip trying new things anymore. I sing solos at church and lead bible studies on occasion. I walk up to people and introduce myself, and I make plans to do things with others. (All of which may seem simple to you, but to someone who struggles with anxiety it can sometimes be a big deal.)

I don't know how to talk about my anxiety, but I know it doesn't define me.

I know when I need to get out of a situation and take a walk, call a friend, take a break, go for a run, or read the bible.

I know that I used to have crippling anxiety attacks every day, and now I only get little ones once in a while.

I know a lot of my triggers now, and I know how to avoid them. If I can't avoid them, then I have learned how to cope with them.

I know that I have amazing brothers and sisters in Christ who encourage me when I need it, and a family that is so supportive and gracious to me- even when we all know I don't deserve it at all.

I know that God has carried me through a lot, and I know that I am thankful for the challenges He has presented in my life that has shaped me into who I am today. I don't know much, but I know that I've learned a lot in my twenty years of life. And I will be forever grateful to the life lessons I've learned throughout the way.

I know that this thing I still struggle with on occasion isn't ever going to hold me back from what God wants me to do in my life. <3