“Thank God!” he cried. The Angels jumped in alarm. He didn’t usually ask to be thanked like that — not straight out. But still, they covered their faces, bowed, and sang a tricky Sanctus that Jophiel had been teaching them.
God looked distracted. For days, he’d been hovering over Galilee, watching the girl.
How many times had they practised this over the centuries? Watching child after child — sometimes right into old age— so that they could catch the right moment, when hope was greater than fear. Surely they were ready. But God kept holding them back.
It was going to be Gabriel this time. God was quite clear about that.
“Only fair,” he muttered, “terrible job I gave him in the garden.
This time he gets good news. I want him to hear her ‘yes’.”
The angels didn’t really know what God was talking about, but they were used to that. They nodded and smiled, and went back to naming the stars.
The stars. They were in on this too.
There was one in particular that God kept fussing over:
“You’re sure you understand? You know your course?
You will not get there too soon?”
The star dimmed a bit in indignation, then sent out a puff of light.
“I will be there. Eastern sky. Stable.”
“I’m sorry, dear friend. I know you will.
It’s just that I’ve waited so long.”
But now, it seemed, the waiting was over.
The Angels leaned out over the cloud to see what God had been watching. It was the girl again. And that young man. Nothing new there. They were talking and laughing as they sat in the grass.
And then, they saw it: Joseph took her hand and said to her,
“Are you sure? You want this?”
“You know I do!” she said, as she threw grass at him and ran off up the hill.
“It is time now,” God said, as Gabriel rose to get ready.
“I didn’t want her to have to do this alone.”