A Missive From Mary

(Dear Diary);

I will always be grateful to my elderly Uncle Zachariah for teaching me to read and write that long ago summer when I was ten. There are some thoughts that are too personal; too profound to give voice to but they must be shared, and writing is the best way.

In all sincerity, Mary’am (That’s my Aramaic name)

The Cops Are After Us!

  Is this Mary???
The Mary we know?

   




   Now, where did I leave my cell phone? Did I put it back in my purse? I’ve got to call
Mom. The pains are starting and we are still several miles away from Bethlehem.  Surely 

she will know what we should do. I am sure it is just false labour but it would be nice to 
get some advice from a--woman! 

        Joseph is exceeding the limit as it is, and is swerving in and out of traffic. Eeek! I
 see red and blue lights flashing!

       “Joseph slow down! Slow down! It’s the cops!”

Soon the Secret Will Be Out

     Mary'am crept quietly out of her room to write. The dew was cool and damp against her bare feet as she plodded softly through the grass to the stone bench near the almond trees.
    She carefully unrolled the parchment, then left it resting on the small, flat rock at her side while watching the sun slowly rise above the horizon. It was such a serenely, beautiful day, and all around tiny birds were chirping merrily.
   Now I will step out of the picture and let you quietly read over Mary'am's shoulder.

Dear Diary;

        I am getting a little rounder every day. Only I can tell but soon the secret will be out.

     While I write this Hana is sleepily getting dressed, and when she is ready we need to fill the water jugs at the well.

     While mothers are waiting to fill their vessels, I often gather the restless little ones around me for a story. It is so enjoyable! Will the mothers who used to be so friendly, snatch their children away from me after I show? Will they treat me as if I am unclean, and have leprosy?  Will I ever again hear Hadassah or Damaris lisp in their trilling voices,   “Mary’am, Mary’am, tell us a story! Tell us a story! You are the bestest story teller!”     Isaiah and Titus used to run up also, an' we would sit in the shade of the old sycamore tree. Even the clusters of aant’at, hushed their banter sometimes, although I can tell that some pretend not to listen!

     I really love telling the story of Ruth, but of course, it does not appeal to the boys. I am so glad she is part of my lineage!

   I wonder how Ruth would have felt if she was carrying the secret I am carrying. My, I would love to talk with her; I think she would so understanding.  

 Can you think of a story to share of when a friend in need was truly a friend indeed? Maybe your own sister did something really cool.   I'd love to hear about it in the comments section. 

Look Out Mary!

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.comLook out May'am!
 What we know, but our innocent, young friend doesn't, is that she is about to plunge into a series of events that will drastically alter her future, and create waves of change throughout the centuries even to this day.
   Okay, I will duck out of the way, and let you observe for yourself how it is affecting her.

11 Nissan April 3rd

Dear Diary;
 My thoughts have been soaring heavenward with a yearning to be one with HaShem especially today because the sky shone like shining molten gold. The whole atmosphere seemed to be hushed as if it is standing on tiptoe in the Shekinah of Adonai, the glorious presence of the Lord of Lords. Many furlongs away the Sea of Galilee is rippling under this same glorious sunset. If it reminds me so much of Paradise here, what must it look like over the waves? I was lingering near our almond tree, which is shrouded with a thousand pink flowers, merged with white flowers. Over my arm hung a basket filled with eggs, since I had just finished collecting them from our sprightly laying hens. Then a dazzling dove swept by. It caught my attention. She was such a bright contrast to the beautiful horizon. As I gazed upon her, I wondered if perchance this would be the time I would see where her little fledglings were hidden. I have been intently watching her for some time now. I was also enjoying the fresh, invigorating breeze against my cheeks. It was sweetly scented with the fragrance of a million early flowers. Then a Voice seemed to float towards me. I don’t know how else to describe it. I looked around but saw no one. There was such a quietness, and calmness in the twilight stillness that I was not afraid; just mildly curious. While my eyes swept the glowing sky and dewy green landscape a marvelous Being appeared. He seemed to materialize out of thin air, but for some reason,

I was pleasantly intrigued rather than terrified. Then in angelic tones, this glorious creature, who was arrayed in raiment that dazzled like snow, spoke to me. “Hail, you are highly favored, the Lord is with you: you are blessed among woman.”

Mary'am's Music

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Running Out of Oil

The Ten Virgins

Maidens so sweet with your lamps all bright

Lighting the way through the starry night

Waiting with music and lilting voice

Arrayed in garments of finest choice.

Sundown has darkened the village streets

Ten drowsy maidens are fighting sleep

While cheery lanterns are growing dim

Will they expire ‘ere the groom comes again?

There’s a delay and the girls slump down

All fast asleep in their bridal gowns

Glad shouts are ringing down the lane

The bridegroom comes make your lanterns shine.

The girls rouse quickly their lamps to trim

But some will lament that their oil is gone.

Oh virgins listen that have to share

You won’t run out for the Lord put it there.

The widow's vessels all had enough

Of oil from God when she but asked

And you will to for your sister’s need

It is blessed by God, so please give heed.

Marilyn Friesen

www.marilynshistoricalbooks.com

Ancient Manuscript?

You probably thought this would be just another blog post about present-day happenings, but we are going to 'step back in time' and read excerpts from Mary's Diary; the life of Jesus through his mother's eyes. First, we will find out what a local townsman, the baker thought about her.

Mary was just one of the carefree young girls who went to the well at dawn to get water. I enjoyed watching her because she seemed unusually sweet and innocent—and sincere. No one knew what to think when she fled so suddenly to Elizabeth’s place in Ain Karim. Rumour

r had it that she had seen an angel, but I didn’t put too much stock in that. After all, she was young and impressionable. But when she came back, obviously pregnant, how the tongues did wag!

I watched her from a distance all through the years. I heard about the remarkable flight to Egypt with her husband, Joseph, and was glad they chose to return to Nazareth when all was said and done.

They had a sweet boy; they named Him Jesus. A person couldn’t help loving Him. I could tell she was really wrapped up in her children, especially that boy. I had to scratch my head a few times, though when he started doing miracles—pretty uncanny, that.

But His preaching, well, that sure had a way of touching the heart. That same heart nearly broke when I saw her grief when her boy was crucified…

TwinS Re United!

NEWSFLASHwww.marilynshistoricalnovels.com: The website is updated!

Synopsis

A fascination with identical twins has been the story of my life. Don’t ask me why because I couldn’t tell you. Even though I had more than a half-dozen babies of my own, almost every single time I was hoping, even praying that I would be carrying twins. No luck. When I read about the remarkable, yea, even amazing traits and experiences separated twins share a spark kindled and I was on my way to exploring an area of pathos, heartache, joy and intrigue when a teenage mother has to give up her babies, or at least thinks she must relinquish one of them during the time a war is going on and her husband, who she hadn’t known very well has questionable ethics.

                Throw in the fact that she has to leave to a foreign country without her parents'

support and approval and has no idea why her soldier-husband isn’t getting in contact with her. Although she allows her best friend to care for one of the babies until “it’s safe to have them together again,” it is an agonizing decision.

                ALTHOUGH THIS BOOK USED TO BE CALLED TWO MOTHER’S TWIN DAUGHTERS. I IMPROVED AND EXPANDED IT SO MUCH THAT IT IS NOW DIVIDED INTO TWO BOOKS.  THE SEQUEL IS MORE THE TWINS STORY; HOW THEY COPE WITH THE JOY AND TURMOIL OF GETTING REACQUAINTED AFTER BEING SEPARATED SO LONG AND THE FIRST BOOK IS MAINLY ABOUT THE MOTHERS.

    Here's my bio: 😼 How do you get a shy, dreamy-eyed girl's gift for writing to burst into flames? Just ask my sixth-grade teacher. She told me I had a 'flare for writing' and after that, there was no stopping me. To say I enjoy writing would be the understatement of the year. I get lost in it. Once while in my teens I was so involved in the book I was working on that the characters became more real than the people around me who seemed like cardboard creations. No, I haven't changed much.

    But I do have other loves including my precious husband of forty-plus years, our ten grandchildren, their parents, the dogs, especially Cuddles, and I thrive on gardening as well as running our bed and breakfast.  Having guests over and sharing food and conversation is the spice of life. But get me back to writing as soon as possible. 

    Oh, in case you haven't noticed: I love life!

Marilyn Friesen

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Do You Have Plenty of Time?

TOO Late

It is too easy to drift through life assuming nothing is wrong, but are we sure? There may be some hidden insidious disease lurking in our bodies that could cause us to collapse suddenly. I read of a girl who thought she had plenty of time to enjoy life but died suddenly. Just a little while before, God had called her most earnestly and she knew it. She recognized His tender pleading voice and even talked to her parents above giving her heart to God but they convinced her that she was too young to worry about that sort of stuff. “Have fun while you can”, they told her. Not long after she took sick and now they wanted her to get right with God. She was in despair. “My heart is as hard as stone! The Holy Spirit isn’t talking to me anymore! In spite of her anguish and concern, she was unable to prepare to meet God and was lost. info@gospeltract.ca

http://www.gospeltract.ca/

Desperate Straits

No one could tell by the tilt of  Aliyah's shoulders or her walk as she sashayed gracefully down the deserted main street that she was in despair.