Jesus' Mother Huddling in the Rain

Now, let’s see. Where did I leave off, last? How often will I have to post to get this done by Christmas? Okay, okay, I’ll step out of the picture so you can immerse yourself into the First Christmas Story.

21st Chisleu

December 6th

First light, if you can call it that, I heard a wind come up during the night, and by morning the clouds had blotted out the sun. The Geshem, (latter rains) descended upon us with a vengeance, we were miserable even before Balaam’s saddlebags

were properly repacked. Yosef and I  had donned our thick woolen cloaks,

but it was impossible for me to hang on to the donkey’s reins without

rain trickling up my sleeves. That was so uncomfortable.

We slogged along silently, going uphill most of the way, or so seemed. I noticed that our fellow travelers were not calling out to each other so exuberantly, anymore. The clouds still look thick and dark towards our destination.

Mary's View of the First Christmas

20th Chisleu

December 16th

20th Chisleu

December 16th

Traveling has not been so bad after all. I didn’t realize

The Christmas Story From Mary's Viewpoint (con't)

More about the most beloved mother in the world!

14^th Sivan

June 4^th

Yosef has not warmly greeted me for many days. I might as well say

it like it really is; we haven’t even exchanged more than two words. He

is polite, but I have seen him treat strangers with more cordiality than

he has bestowed on me! I feel ill with despair.

15^th  Sivan

Somehow, something, must have leaked out at home, because my younger

sisters don’t treat me so sweetly any more. Dorcas and Naomi give me

troubled looks as if they cannot quite understand what has changed

with me. They are not as spontaneous with their hugs as in former days,

or am I just imagining it?

Hanalei and I used to be as close as burrs in sheep’s wool but now she is somewhat reserved in my presence.

 Imma had thought she was old enough to share in our secret, but from the way she is acting we wonder. Perhaps Hana is concerned about how her friends will react when they find out her older sister is expecting a riba, (child), before the wedding. 

Maybe she is afraid this will lessen her own chances of finding a nice, respectable husband. She had been telling me how much she admires Caleb bar-Reuven, for some time now.

Dear old Abba has been quiet and unsmiling  since our discussion.

I wonder so often what he is really thinking. I wish he would not

council with Yaakov so much since Yosef’s father is so perturbed with me.

Now that Father is so distant, Imma waits until he is out of the

house to show her loving sympathy. It is then that the tears, the soothing

healing tears, flow freely, and we can talk.

Naturally Imma does not feel ill as I do, so she is still quite optimistic

about it all. I know she does not consider my story a fantasy like Abba,

Yosef and his family appear to.

What would I do without my mother to lean on; to comfort me? Imma is touched that a daughter of hers would be considered worthy to be the mother of the son of  Adonai , our Almighty God, but is deeply concerned that Yosef is considering getting divorce papers written out.

Isn’t it strange that two such conflicting emotions can dwell in the same heart?

Being thrilled yet at the same time deeply concerned seem so opposite from each other.

 Imma feels for me, and I am glad she is praying that things will work out somehow.

We have whispered together about how dreadful it would be to be identified as an unwed mother. I do not believe Yosef would ever have me stoned, but would

not the stony disapproval of our community be almost harder to bear?

I know that every day I am growing a little rounder, and someday the

sacred secret will be revealed. But unfortunately, or is it fortunately, I

will be far away by then, for Abba insists that I must go, and for who knows how long?

2^nd Tammuz

June 22^nd

We have arrived at Zechariah’s home. The trip was long and

tiresome, but not as dreadful as I feared.

Zechariah’s stone house is situated in a serenely beautiful valley.

It is a spacious dwelling with many archways and pillars.

It even has marble floors. That is such a contrast to our own dirt floor! Oh, well, I love our little home just as much, if not more, because that’s where my family dwells.

I was so enthralled with the cooling fountain in their courtyard, though, as

well as all the exotic flowers and plants surrounding it. It was such a

refreshing change after trudging through the wilderness for so long.

It is very strange to have a room all to myself, and such a soft, high

bed! Yet I will miss having my sisters snuggling down close beside me.

What a blessing it was to be enfolded in Elisheva’s warm embrace!

She seemed so happy to see me. It was like an unexpectedly warm and

balmy breeze in frigid weather.

We had such a meaningful visit right after I arrived that I did not even remember how exhausted I had been feeling ’til a long time later.

To my amazement she knew immediately that I was carrying Yahweh’s son. The baby leaped within her, and then do you know what?—Elisheva started to prophecy like the patriarchs of old! I have never heard anyone do that before!

It thrilled me right to my toes when she said, nay, almost shouted

“Mary’am, you are very blessed among women! The baby you are

carrying is very blessed indeed! How can I be so fortunate that the

mother of our Lord would come, and visit me? As soon as you called

out, the babe knew who you were, and leaped within me!”

What a shiver of awe ran down my back!

She told me I would be blessed for believing. Can you imagine the comfort that was after the despondent atmosphere at home? She also reminded me that all that

the angel told me would come true.

Perhaps if Abba could have heard her faith, and enthusiastic response to my pregnancy, he would have believed, also.

It filled me with such a deep joy to know that Jehovah has regarded

the low estate of me, His quiet, unassuming talitha, that I clasped my

hands in wonder, and magnified His Holy Name.

Future generations will call me Banoah, (blessed),  and indeed they are surely right. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of aant’at would gladly trade places with me.

 The Mighty One has done marvelous things; holy is His name!

 Somehow I sense that when He reigns, He will not only show mercy to those our generation that fear him, but will extend mercy for generations come! I cannot comprehend it! It is so amazing!

Under His guidance, I just know that wrongs will be righted, those that we call powerful will be of no more value than the poor in spirit; the hungry will be satisfied, but the rich will go away empty.

How can I know these things? I simply don’t know. It does seem like a spirit of prophecy descended upon me also, and I am eagerly waiting to see what it means.

 As you may well know, my despondency has been lifted up, carried away on wings of joy!

I just know these are going to be pleasant, meaningful months

helping Elisheva. I am really looking forward to it! Surely we will have many inspirational visits. I really need them to help me to grow into the role Adonai, ordained for me.

Does God Care About the Little Things?

He sure does, and I have the cutest little doll to remind me. When we went to Africa I left part of my heart there, and had wanted to bring back an African baby doll wrapped on its mother’s back as a symbolic memory of the place.  Would you believe there wasn’t any that really looked authentic?  

I did find a painting done by a native artist of that scene which was beautiful though.

Now this is the truly neat part. The first time, the very first time I strolled into Value Village after our trip I found a super authentic looking African baby doll just sitting there waiting for me to take home.

 And here's the bonus. Never once have I seen one that looks anywhere nearly as authentic before or since.  Not even on line! Does Jesus care bout the little things? You bet.

Stunned in Africa

Come on grab a pair of sandals, there's plenty of those over there by the door. I can lend you an extra sunhat if you don't have one, and don't forget the sunscreen and mosquito repellent. Even though it's wintertime in Mozambique we don't want to take any chances of getting the nasty, and sometimes recurring malaria.  I want you to walk where I walked and see what I saw. It didn't take me long to feel bombarded by all the different impressions. Just between you and me and the baobab tree I experienced some serious culture shock while there. Don't tell anyone, but I broke down and cried uncontrollably for a couple hours. It was just too much. Too much poverty, too much ignorance, too hard a life, and I felt too helpless to do anything about it. 

I found it a bit uncomfortable bumping along these rocky, rutted roads in our big, four wheel drive truck, but all around us people were walking, always walking which would be far more exhausting. . We saw thousands of black faces, many so solemn looking, carrying heavy bundles, often on their heads and the women, it seemed like more often than not, had a baby or toddler wrapped on their backs. I guess seeing the numerous pedestrians with heavy loads and  knowing they would be  sleeping on bamboo mats, and the pitiful diets were among the things that hit me the hardest. Hey, they are people just like you and I! 

At first we babbled foolishly about what can we do to help, but eventually fell silent. What could we do? Their needs are so great, and our efforts so small. Even the education of many was a crying shame. Some children could hardly even write their name. 

We saw far too many places similar to this. How would you like to call this home? 

I was asked later if I would go back if I had a chance. I thought about it for a while and this is my answer. For an adventure, no, but as a missionary in order to help the people, yes, a resounding yes, IF I could learn the language sufficiently to share my love with them. Life for so many in Africa is a hard life, and it would be also, to a lesser extent for the missionary because it would be a huge adjustment. No an adventure seeking spirit couldn't drag me back, but love could. 

"Goodnight" In the Air

“

Our next flight was three hours longer than the first one and was also an over-nighter. I’m really not great at falling asleep even at home, and this was no exception. How my legs did ache! Out of desperation I would get up and walk around once in a while. It is a marvel to behold how readily some folks zonked off. There were those that were snoozing with their chin almost on their chests. Did I envy them? Well, maybe a little, but I did wonder how their necks would feel when they woke up. One sweet, young teenager leaned over to talk to me as I trudged past. Our conversation was about this long: “You can’t sleep? I can’t either!” But it was a friendly connection in a sea of shadowed faces. On a different plane one man was asleep even before takeoff and slumbered almost constantly until he had to drag himself off the plane many hours later. Oh, to keep the record straight, I did fall asleep for a few seconds, not minutes on the flight from London to Johannesburg. On the way home I even slept longer!

There were others that were prowling around in the dark. One businessman (?) was doing knee bends to aid circulation and he and I got to chatting. These late night vigils gave me opportunity to exchanged smiles and a few words with more than one gentle-faced woman clothed in Middle Eastern attire.

I felt sorry for one Chinese couple, though. Off and on all during a certain flight their toddler was fussing. I wanted so much to go help them, but that just Isn’t Done and besides they may have not even known English. I saw “Daddy” in the back with a child but could offer little more than a sympathetic smile. When daylight arrived, I discovered that it wasn't one, but two toddlers that were having an unhappy flight. They were identical twins!

Maybe that’s enough for now. I feel ready for a nap!

More About Africa. Soon.

Wow! Look at that! My laptop is actually working! It’s sure handy having a son in law visit that is more knowledgeable than I am when it comes too messed up computers! Even he couldn’t fix the PC though. It was threatening imminent failure long before that infamous hacker got his fingers on my files.

Okay, okay, I know you came here to check out the details of our trip so I’ll get to it. Be assured of one thing, though. These reports shouldn’t sound quite so much like they were scribbled off in haste while the library clock was ticking ‘cuz now I can work at them at home and maybe even catch my errors before you do!

 

Let me see: have we left the Heathrow airport behind? Maybe we left Rye too quickly! I never told you about the antique and tea shops and famous English breakfasts! (I had delicious smoked haddock, though!) Oh well, find out for yourself if you’re drooling with curiosity.  We’re heading for the terminal.

World Travel is just another name for Hurry Up and Wait, right? I don’t know how many times we did exactly that. We had time on our hands after arriving at the airport so did a little Short-Distance exploring. We hadn’t walked very far down a busy, bustling street when we met an interesting character. He was a street person with all his earthly goods piled into a grocery cart. We stopped and chatted for a while and learned that he had spent the last seven years caring for his mother who had dementia. As the story unfolded it became more disturbing. As a lad “Johann” had grown up Greek Orthodox but was now agnostic. His father, while in a drunken rage, would beat him and his mother cruelly in spite of being most pious on Sundays.

 When his mother became ill, did he help? No, it was up to “Johann” to support her and watch, alone, as she gradually went downhill. She died two or three months before we met him. But like I said “Johann’s” dad was very devout, so guess what he did with the inheritance that normally goes at least partly to the children? He donated it to the church so that his soul would be prayed for, for 36 Sundays.

In the course of the conversation we admitted that many atrocities have been done in the name of Christ, but they were definitely not the Father’s will. We encouraged him to make a direct connection with the Father, because God is love, and He can lead him. As you read this, please whisper a prayer for this gentleman. I would love to meet him in Heaven and find out how his story unfolded from there.