Did you think I rose up like a prophet of old eyes wild and declare "Look at what the Lord has done to me." Do you read those words and hear a happy maiden? Or maybe like many you imagine a queen in spirit if not yet station making her pronouncement from a dais.
Can't you here how my voice wavers and my mind stretches. I do not know these words. They come out of me but are not mine. Those with eyes to see let them see and let them see the girl traveling alone because her parents will have nothing to do with her. She goes to her aunt and the rejoicing comes in time. She is a good aunt who knows to say "I love you" and "God bless" but first there are tears, there is reproach and accusation. First there are cups of coffee, so many cups of coffee. She looks at me across the Formica counter top and her eyes search my future. We talk of bargain basements and closeout sales. We dig through closets and find some used toys which I suppose are to make me feel as if, now, I am prepared.
We find phone numbers for churches, missions, and charities, none of which will ever hear from me for I am young and alone and broke and have no time to stand in line. Satisfied that she has done her part my aunt smiles and tells me the child is a blessing and sends me home.
This lonely visit has driven me to God for I have none other. I am no willing handmaid but a desperate refugee. But should I make my fortune in this land of prophecy, should someone bring me glory I would see the weak lifted up and the proud brought down low. Not some nameless force of capitalism or tyranny but the proud themselves. They have faces and I would see them humiliated before me.
Therefore let mine be the voice of God, let my song be the anthem of a new kingdom. And when you call out to God know that I stand close as mother. Know that your idealism must pass under my gaze and I have many grievances of my own. Fear the lord but feel the heat of my sorrow and know that it is I and not you whom God has chosen.
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