Daisies In Diaries 5- Heaven in My Courtyard

Hello dear sisters, and welcome to Daisies in Diaries.

What we do here is very simple. We retell diaries that were never really written down, but could have been. These women from the Bible, from history, from the faith, lived real lives, went through real struggles, cried real tears, and made real choices.

So we take one moment from their story, and we imagine it in diary form to make it close, alive, and relatable. We picture what they might have thought, what they might have whispered, how they might have prayed on that day.

Each time we meet, we pluck one daisy, we open one diary, and we let their story speak into ours.

Tonight, the diary we are opening is from Elizabeth. This entry is titled: Heaven in My Courtyard

 

Daisies In Diaries 5- Heaven in My Courtyard

Tonight, I can hardly sleep. The lamp is burning low, and Mary is stretched out beside me on a woven mat, fast asleep after whispering long prayers to Yahweh. Her hands are tucked under her cheek like a little girl’s, though she carries the Ancient of Days within her. 

 

Like, wow! 

I just keep glancing at her face in the lamplight and shaking my head. 

What a girl. 

What a God. 

What a mystery.

You see, this morning was so ordinary. 

Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

I was in the courtyard, sitting low to the ground with a wide basket in my lap, sorting beans for our stew. The wind kept blowing the dry husks back into my pile and I would sigh, lean forward, and puff them away again. My back ached from the weight of this child inside me. 

Like, me, Elizabeth, I have a child inside me! Ahhh, Jehovah! 

Five months along now. Five months of quiet wonder and quiet hiding. 

I decided to stay undercover because it is easier to stay unseen than to explain to everyone what no one could believe. Zechariah was inside, silent as always, writing small notes on his parchment tablet when he needed me. His muteness has become part of the air of our home. Sometimes heavy, sometimes sweet.

Then I heard some footsteps. Quick, light, but determined. Crunching the dry path.

Before I could straighten up, there came a knock, sharp but breathless. I pushed myself to standing, wiped my dusty hands on my woven apron, and shuffled toward the door. I had barely touched the latch when it swung open.

“Elizabeth!”

There she was. 

Mary! My young cousin. 

Her cheeks flushed from running, hair sticking to her brow, a long journey’s dust clinging to her skirt. She dropped her bundle without care and came toward me with arms outstretched, laughing and panting at the same time.

“Elizabeth!” she said again, and the sound of her voice felt like bells breaking my quiet world.

I smiled, half laughing, half scolding. “Child, what are you doing here? You’ve traveled all this way…”

But before the words could finish, it happened!

My baby, the miracle I had guarded in silence, moved.

No, he leapt! 

He gave me a sudden, fierce jolt that bent me forward, my hands clutching the table. It was not the gentle flutter I’d felt before, but a kick so wild and joyful it took my breath away.

A heat, a holiness swept the room; the very air seemed to change. 

My eyes blurred with tears. 

The Spirit of Yahweh fell on me, strong and sure and sweet.

Mary stopped mid-step, eyes wide, as if she felt it too.

And then the words came. Oh, the words were not mine, not rehearsed at all. But I could feel fire literally pouring out of me:

“Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the Child you carry! But why should I be so honored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? The moment your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leapt for joy! Blessed is she who has believed that Yahweh will fulfill His promises!”

The words tumbled out before I could think. And then I froze.

Silence filled the little room. 

Only the sound of my own breathing and the soft rustle of Mary’s dress. My hands shook. My lips were still warm with the words, but my mind stumbled over them.

Mother of my Lord? What had I just said? How could I call this young cousin of mine, barely more than a girl, the mother of my Lord?

I pressed a hand over my pounding heart. “Mary… child… what am I saying? These words… they just came, as if another voice was speaking through me.”

Mary was standing a few steps away, her chest rising and falling from the long journey. Her eyes were wide and wet, but shining with something I could not name. She stepped closer, slow and trembling.

“Elizabeth…” she whispered, voice shaking, “an angel came to me.”

I froze. “An angel?”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Gabriel.”

My knees weakened. I reached for the table to steady myself. Gabriel? The same Gabriel who had gone to Zechariah in the temple?

Mary breathed, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “He came to me in Nazareth. He said, Do not be afraid, Mary. You have found favor with God. You will conceive and bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus. He will be great, the Son of the Most High. The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.”

I stared at her, hardly breathing.

“Gabriel… came to you.” My voice was a whisper now, trembling. “And Mary, child, you… you have always been known among us as pure, so modest, untouched. How could you, how could you be with a child?”

Her face turned pink, but her eyes held steady. “I have not known a man, Elizabeth. I have not. But Yahweh said a child would be formed in me. I said yes to Yahweh. I said Be it unto me according to your word, I told the angel. And it happened, just as he said.”

My hand flew to my mouth. Tears burst hot and suddenly. 

I thought of Zechariah, my dear husband, faithful, but faltering that day in the temple. Gabriel’s words. My husband’s doubt. His sudden muteness. And yet, the promise came true: here I was, old and heavy with a son. I thought of this girl, so much younger, standing before the same fearsome messenger and she believed at once.

“Oh Mary…” I choked, laughing and crying at once. “My Zechariah saw Gabriel and doubted, and he has not spoken a word since. And you, just a girl, you believed without question, and look how heaven has filled you! 

No wonder these words tumbled from my lips. No wonder this child of mine leapt like fire within me. No wonder I called you the mother of my Lord. Because you are, Mary! Oh, Jehovah has honoured you!”

At that, John kicked again, hard and joyful, as if he too shouted a resounding Amen. I doubled over slightly with the force of it, clutching my belly, laughing through my tears.

Mary’s tears fell too, but now her face was radiant. She stood very still, then slowly raised her hands. Her eyes lifted upward, and her lips began to move. 

It was first a trembling whisper, then a song rising like a flood.

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior;
for He has looked on the humble state of His servant.
The Mighty One has done great things for me,
holy is His name!”

Her voice swelled, strong and clear, filling the small house until I thought the very walls might tremble. 

She turned slowly as she sang, light spilling across her young face, hair slipping loose, the Spirit of Yahweh resting on her like a cloak.

The air grew heavy and sweet with glory.

I stood frozen, one hand over my round belly, the other gripping the table for strength. John moved and rolled inside me, wild and alive, bearing witness to the King just a few feet away in Mary’s womb. 

Zechariah appeared silently at the doorway, tears streaming down his face, unable to speak but full of awe.

Mary’s song poured on. Full prophecy from a girl’s lips, words so ancient and so new that I felt the whole of Israel’s longing wrapped up in her young voice:

“He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich He has sent away empty.
He has helped His servant Israel, remembering His mercy…”

I covered my face, shaking with tears. 

My simple kitchen had become a sanctuary.

When at last her voice fell quiet, Mary sank to her knees, laughing and weeping all at once. I fell beside her, our foreheads touching the cool floor.

“Yahweh,” I whispered through sobs, “You have visited the lowly.”

Mary turned her glowing face toward me, tears shining.

With a gentle yet intense look in her eyes as she caught mine, she said,  “Elizabeth… He sees us.”

I nodded, unable to speak. John gave one last joyous kick, sealing the Amen deep inside me.

Mary began to cry then. First soft, trembling sobs that turned to laughter. I found myself laughing too, through my tears, still clutching my belly. 

Two women, one old and long-barren, one impossibly young and untouched, standing in a tiny Judean kitchen with our hearts pounding while heaven moved among us.

We spent the afternoon talking like only women can. We laughed at old family memories. We whispered about the strange things God had done. We spoke of our babies, kicking and quiet, chosen for mysteries bigger than themselves. 

She asked me what it was like to feel life after years of emptiness. I asked her what it was like to be visited by an angel. We shared bread, beans stew, honey and secrets. 

We prayed. 

We cried.

At one point I watched her kneel, forehead touching the floor before Jehovah, and I felt like I was seeing the hinge of history swing open right in my little house.

Tonight she is sleeping beside me. Her face is peaceful, her hands resting near her flat belly where God Himself is quietly growing. 

I keep staring at her, wondering at the favor Yahweh pours out on the lowly.

I, an old forgotten woman, have become the first to bless the Mother of my Lord. My son leapt for joy at His presence before his eyes could even see. 

Heaven has entered my doorway.

What shall I say but that: Yahweh sees. 

Yahweh remembers. 

Yahweh keeps every promise.

 

LESSONS FROM ELIZABETH’S DIARY

1. God breaks into ordinary days.
Sisters, do not think that your life is too plain for heaven to notice. Elizabeth was not at a revival meeting. She was not at a mountain praying. She was simply at home. She had been hidden for months, just living quietly. That day, she was picking beans, according to our diary here at least, blowing away the dry husks, alone in a silent house. And suddenly there was a knock at the door. Suddenly her cousin stepped in and heaven rushed into the room. Do not despise a day that feels small. Do not say, “Nothing special is planned for me today.” Keep living faithfully. Keep talking with God even when nothing seems to change. In one ordinary moment, He can walk in and everything will shift.

2. Hidden seasons are holy seasons.
Elizabeth spent five long months away from people. No parties. No public excitement. She stayed quiet because the miracle inside her was still tender and needed to grow. Maybe your life feels small and unseen right now. Maybe no one is clapping for you. Maybe it’s the wilderness experience for you. Sisters, do not call that time wasted. Those silent months were the very place where Elizabeth’s heart became soft enough to recognize God when He came knocking. Hiddenness is not punishment but God’s cocoon. It is where He shapes you so that when His presence comes, you will know it and be ready to carry it.

3. Believe God even when the story makes no sense.
Think about what Mary said when she walked in that day. A virgin was pregnant. She was carrying the Son of God. No human mind could process that. But the Spirit inside Elizabeth knew it was true and leapt for joy. Sisters, sometimes the promises of God will sound unreasonable, too big, too strange. Do not scoff when you hear them. Do not shut down because you cannot explain how. Be the woman who says, “If He has spoken, it will be.” Faith is not pretending to understand, sis. Faith is trusting the God who does the impossible.

4. Rejoice with other women God is using.
Elizabeth had finally conceived after years of tears, yet here comes Mary, younger, with an even greater calling. Elizabeth could have compared. She could have felt small. But instead, she shouted blessings. She celebrated Mary. And the Spirit stayed in that house. Sisters, comparison will dry up joy. Envy will push the Holy Spirit away. Rejoicing will open your own heart to more of God. Bless the sister He is raising. Celebrate her assignment. There is room in the kingdom for every woman’s miracle.

5. When Jesus is near, your spirit will know.
John was not yet born, yet he recognized Christ and leapt. A heart that stays soft will feel the presence of the Lord before anyone explains it. Do not let hurt, pride or cynicism harden you until you cannot feel Him. Keep your spirit tender. Stay prayerful. When He comes close, you will know it deep inside. That inward leap is heaven saying, “I am here.” Pay attention to it. Rejoice when it happens. Sing in the Spirit, leap for joy!

6. Be a woman God can visit.
God did not look for fame or titles when He chose Elizabeth and Mary. He looked for humility, surrender and purity. Elizabeth was an old, quiet woman whom the world had forgotten. Mary was a young village girl unknown beyond her street. Yet heaven trusted them both. Sisters, keep your heart clean and low before Him. Keep your life yielded. Live so that when God looks for someone to entrust with His purpose, He can say, “There is a woman I can use.”

7. God uses the old and the young.
Age does not stop Him. Elizabeth was far beyond the years of childbearing. Mary was barely a woman. Yet God wove them both into His greatest story. Do not say, “It is too late for me.” Do not say, “I am too young to be useful.” Offer your season to Him. Whatever your age, He can fill it with destiny.

8. God is the God of all impossibilities.
Sisters, what is the thing in your life that feels impossible? The Lord is God over that impossibility. He opened a womb that had been silent for decades. He filled a womb that had never been touched. He can revive what is dead. He can create what has never existed. He can call forth life where there has only been emptiness. Do not bury that prayer. Do not give up on that dream. Nothing is too hard for Him.

9. Humility draws heaven.
God did not go to a palace to find a womb for His Son. He went to a small, quiet girl from Nazareth. He came to an old, forgotten woman like Elizabeth. Heaven chooses the lowly. God Himself became a poor man, then chose the shameful death of a criminal. He kept stepping lower and lower until there was nowhere else to go. Sisters, this is God’s way. If you want His presence, stay small. Stay childlike. Do not fight for thrones. The Bible says we must become as little children to enter His kingdom. Lowliness is the door God still walks through.

 

Rounding Off:

And here, sisters, we close today’s diary. What a fragrance it has left with us!

Do you want to read more diaries? Read other Episodes of Daisies in Diaries Here

Until next time, when another story unfolds, may your own life and mine also become a diary that whispers God’s faithfulness to generations after us. Amen.