The “Virgin” Mary

I’ve written a Christmas Story for you. It’s about Mary, Mother of God, as told by Mary, Mother of God. 

Hello! My name is Mary and I am a virgin (fingers crossed). This is my true story. What is entirely omitted in the Bible about me is that I was a kid at one point, just like everyone else, and I did have some fun; I was not always a saint. I’ll take it from the top…

I had a regular, uneventful childhood, nice parents, lots of Love and prayer, I had a little lamb. I was sent to a prep school called The Future Saints of the New Testament. We were also known as the Girls Awaiting Halos. One day there was all this chatter and excitement that God has started window shopping for a young girl (creepy?) to carry his child – the Messiah, the Father of Heaven and Earth. It was the All-Time-Most-Holiest-of-Holy coveted position in all of God’s green Earth now and forever AMEN! Being the biggest (and cutest) prude in all of Nazareth, the rumor was that that girl was to be ME! (Not sure how I feel about that reputation, whatevs). But Mother of God!! I could be the mother of God??? And so indeed it was decided that I was to be The Mother of God. Yay! Holy news travels fast and in no time all the land knew of my Divine fate. The fellas, they wept for I’d never marry and soon I’d be the stay-at-home mom of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

One day, I’m chilling at home trying to figure out my Hello Kitty Chastity Belt, and some holy and high priest waltzes in and was like, “I care not of this hullabuloo. Chop chop, kid. You’re getting married – we’re short on girls”. My parents freaked out at this no-notice change of plans for the rest of my life – they gave a vow that I’d bear God’s kid, an immaculate conception for God’s sake! Plus they already had everything monogrammed – S.o.G. (Son of God) bibs and blankets, M.o.G. (Mother of God) linens and towels! So, my mom and dad and this priest argued for days then finally agreed to let a bird decide. Yeah – a bird. Not me. A bird. An oracle instructed that every man of the house of David should bring a rod to my Temple. If one of the rods flowers, then its owner will be engaged to me. Now, I might be 12 and I certainly have never seen a “flowering rod” but it sounds shady. a little Sodom and Gomorrah-ish, sounds a little gay – a bunch of guys taking their rods out while everyone looks at them and waits for a flower? Anyway, reluctantly, this really sweet but really really old dude named Joseph takes out his rod. It flowers, a dove comes to rest on it, and so he is chosen as my fiance. Great. The bird couldn’t have landed on a younger rod? I mean, not a smaller rod, but a younger rod. Joe is crazy old! He’s 90! 90!!! He’s a widower, was married for 49 years, has six kids, poor guy is so old he can’t remember how many grandkids and great-grandkids he has. So, he was born in like 90 BC, and when the kid gets here the year will be, what, zero BC? Zero AD? Whatever – AD, BC, all I know is that all that would be happening in the bedroom of Joe and yours truly is ED, if you know what I mean. He couldn’t deflower this virgin if he even wanted. Indeed if would have to be an immaculate conception! Those guys are sneaky.

I got depressed and told the Girls Awaiting Halos the dealio and they were like, “Whaaaa? Aren’t you supposed to be a virgin forever?”, and I was like, “I know, right?!”, and they were like, “Whatevs – BACHELORETTE PARTY!!! Woooohoooo!!!” They were so excited, and planned this wicked fun girls’ get-away weekend to The Dead Sea. It was fabulous! They dressed up the camels in wedding veils and Bedazzled the saddles, and painted the camels’ toenails hot pink, and our cheery caravan set off for a spa retreat. It was fun! We slept late, floated on the sea all morning, had brunch of olives and figs, milk and honey. We had our hair braided with shells and rosary beads. One night, one wonderfully enchanted night, the Girls and I went to a club to see this pop band called “The Wise Men”. And there he was – the Little Drummer Boy – pa rum pum pum pum indeed… and a hubba hubba, too. (Don’t freak out – we’re totally the same age). I looked at him. And then he smiled at me pa rum pum pum.. and it was all over – I was lovesick. We spent the entire night talking talking talking and laughing, holding hands and making sand angels… and we French-kissed! Sadly, the weekend had to end and I had to go home to Pops (Joe). Little Drummer Boy told me he was on tour with the band, and was scheduled – barring rapture, frogs, locusts, etc… – to be in Nazareth at the end of December. He said this would give me enough time to sort out the marriage/Mother of God/virgin mess so we could be together forever… and forever I would wait for my drumming dream boat.

Back in Nazareth a few months later, I was doodling “Mary n’ Drummer Boy 4-eva” and “Mrs. Mary Drummer Boy”, and the archangel Gabriel barrels through the window and scares the shit out of me – I scream, he laughs. Total jerk. Then he announces to me that I am to be the mother of the promised Messiah and I’ll be conceiving Him through the Holy Spirit. I threw my hands up in holy frustration and asked, “Is this your final answer? You have another lifeline you can use. Do you want to call God and get final confirmation on this because you’re being wicked wishy-washy and I am getting really annoyed!!!” Gabe was like, “The final answer is.. all three! The Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit! You win!” I just walked out of the room – I have to accept the fact that I will never get a straight answer out of these angels and priests. And then a number of months after my conversation with Gabe, Joe also got confirmation of my conception in a dream by yet another angel. Joe was confused (remember he’s 90 and none of this makes any sense anyway) but the angel told him to be unafraid and take me as his wife, which he did, thereby formally completing the wedding rites. Joe was like, “Phew! I dodged a stoning with that one!”.

The wedding reception was supposed to be a small gathering of family and a few close friends, but the paparazzi caught wind of my immaculate conception / marriage to a 90-year-old scandal and it was a mess – there were pterodactyl flying overhead with cameras – it was just awful. We were able to move the party inside and it ended up being a lovely day… except everyone kept pinching my cheeks and telling me I look fat, chubby as a cherub. Someone actually said I look “jolly”! I’m like, “Jolly?! Jolly like Santa Claus!?” They were like, “who?” and I was like, “nevermind”.

But then later that night it occurred to me – I put my hands on my belly – OMG – I have a Baby Jesus Bump! But who’s the Father?!!! I was warned about this in school. Mother Superior told us that if we French-kissed a boy, we’d get pregnant.. and here I am – pregnant!!! But all these angels are fluttering around telling everyone that I was chosen to carry the Messiah! (You’d think if the Holy Spirit knocked me up already, I’d know about it, right? Like, sparklers would shoot out of my belly button or something). How can I be sure who the father is! O! And My Little Drummer Boy will be here anyday! How the hell (make sign of cross on belly) am I going to explain this one??? I threw a tizzy of Biblical proportions and I can’t even ask God for guidance, given the circumstances. I’d have Hell to pay.

Anxiety-ridden, distraught, and puffy, I moped around the house dreaming of Little Drummer Boy. Joe didn’t want to see me unhappy, and thought a trip to the mall in Bethlehem might cheer me up. I should have known from the start that the trip was going to be a fiasco when the first thing we had to figure out was how to get me on an ass. I had to sit side-saddle, for obvious reasons, and it was murder on my own ass. Then halfway there.. my Holy Water broke! By my calculation, this is when Little Drummer Boy and his band The Wise Men showed up at my place and no one was home. They asked the neighbors if they knew where we went and they thought maybe the Star of Bethlehem Mall. The band had picked up a choir of angels along their travels, and the choir kept singing to them “oh come ye oh come ye to Bethlehem. Come and behold him, born the king of us angels. Oh come let us adore him! We think we see a light! Do you see what we see?”.

I seriously could not go another step – I had to get off that ass STAT and give birth to the Savior of the World. We stopped at a barn and asked the owner if he minded if I gave birth to the Overseer of his Soul in his barn, and he was like, “go for it”. And so I did and what a magical experience! Jesus Christ was SO cute – he looked like a be-haloed Glow-worm! I couldn’t really tell if he looked like the Little Drummer Boy and I have no idea what the Holy Spirit looks like (does anyone?), so I kept my trap shut. We were all pretty speechless actually. And then my Little Drummer Boy showed up with The Wise Men and the choir of angels and some of the things they picked up in the gift shops of the various kingdoms they had gigs in – gold, frankincense, myrrh – and they had just stopped off at Starbucks and brought me and Joe hot chocolate. The Baby Jesus slept, and the rest of us stayed up all night laughing softly about who our favorite reindeer was and why, and telling stories of how we’d each been naughty and nice that year. Little Drummer Boy and I just smiled longingly and lovingly at each other knowing we had a beautiful secret about JC’s dad. We’d never know… and even if we did, we’d certainly never tell….

Merry Christmas, my darlings!

Mary (M.o.G.)


4 responses

  1. That has absolutely histerical!! You are a very funny lady and I am going to forward this piece to all my friend’s! You need to write a book!

  2. I love the 21st century version of this 2012 year old piece of fiction. God please don’t strike our family down (just in case you do really exist).

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