Who I am is not important. Actually, it’s my daughter who has the incredible story to tell. She was such a precious child, and I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but she was truly a jewel from Heaven. She seemed to enjoy her father’s passion for prophecy, and the two of them spent hours studying the ancient texts. She had an aptitude even at the tender age of five that is most uncommon. She could memorize long passages. Many a dinner conversation was monopolized by the two of them discussing the Messiah’s rule and role.
Then, on that fateful day, little Mary came to me to tell of an encounter with an angel. She was so excited, but what could I think? Her father put all those ideas in her head. She was a remarkable child, but the chosen one? My daughter? How could that be? We are of humble means? Surely the God of the Universe would not choose a place like Nazareth to visit us. But, I digress.
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