The Jobless Woman Gets a Reprieve

Mary is desperate. No one will welcome her in their home or business, even to do the most menial tasks. How will she keep from starving or being molested if she keeps roaming the streets? 

  I was so happy when Yeshua took me aside
, and asked if I would take a talitha into my home.

Have You Ever Lost a Penny?

This is an excerpt from the book I was telling you about last week. 

The picture isn't accurate of course because this wdding took place centuries ago and it was a disaster for the bride to lose one penny! This isn't the only book available at www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com either. I hope you find one you like.

Poor Michal! She was frantic with worry today. Raddai

had gone on a business trip with his father but would

return by nightfall. For the first time in their short married life

Michal was dreading his return.

Oh, Mary, What Will Happen to You?

The Virgin Mary has been visited by an angel but how is life treating her since then? By the way I discovered this review online. Was I ever surprised and thrilled. I wish they would have put their name on it so I coud thank him or her properly.

29 Nissan

April 21

Dear Diary;

           With tears in my eyes, I must admit this has been a low time

Hiding from the Romans at Night

preview of the book Around Smoldering Coals

   
                  "You have to be awful careful about what you say, Stephen,” Tayletha cautioned. “The sentry walks by
        every half hour or so, and if he even suspects that we might be out after  dark because we are …” she glanced furtively about and her voice lowered, “or because our parents are 

-you-know-what- we will be in deep trouble.”

      Her five-year-old brother nodded soberly. He knew very well how the “enemy” raged against the Christians and would use any excuse

to throw them to the lions. Stephen shivered a little at the thought,

 and clutched the loaf of bread closer to his thin chest.

Tayletha crouched even lower than she had been and inched her way

over to the balustrade bordering the flat roof. Every so often, she flattened herself against the rough surface and listened.

Far in the distance, the clomp-clomp-clomp of hobnailed Roman 

sandals on cobblestone streets sounded loud in the stillness. Soon the eerie flickering of the patrollers’ smoldering torch briefly revealed some ragged beggar boys darting back into the shadows. Tayletha sensed that the boys knew they were in danger of being clouted with a brawny fist if they were caught slinking around. Scavenging in the garbage strewn in the corners could most definitely wait for a safer time.

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Talitha slunk down until she was barely eye-level with the top row of bricks, and saw the boys conceal themselves in the deeper shadows. She wondered briefly how children could survive as beggars, but her own concerns snuffed out the thought.

            Just then, the sentries’ flame flashed high against the black night sky

Angelic Rescue

 I've been intrigued with angels, and have often wondered how I would respond if I actually saw one.
   All through the night, the snow must have fallen softly, because this morning there was a luscious layer covering the gray, muted landscape. For some reason, the gentle beauty made me think of hoarfrost on a day when the sky is a bright, clear blue. Surely an angels wings would sparkle like hoar frosty diamonds!

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

  No, I have never actually seen an angel in all its glory, but I have a precious memory of when one came to my aid. Our oldest daughter was just a wee tot when this happened. The stairs leading down to the basement of the house we were living in at the time were rotting, so needed to be replaced. They were removed in the evening and the brand new ones would be installed first thing in the morning. That gaping hole made me uneasy.
   During the night I woke up to the pitter patter of little feet. Our baby was looking for our room! I leapt up to go to her, but she had walked past our bedroom and over to the basement doorway. I hurried over and brought her to safety.
      But later that I realized I couldn't have possibly gotten to her on time. She had stepped into mid-air and was being held up by an angel until I could reach her. Oh, Audrey, I wish you could remember this, and tell me what it was like to be held in an angel's arms!
   Now it's your turn.
 If you want to share an angelic experience privately on Hang-Outs let me know. in the comments section/Let's rejoice in each other's experiences of heavenly encounters especially now when it is so close to Christmas..

Mary's Missive

(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! 

        Joe 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!”

The Secret Will Get 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 in deed? Maybe your own sister did something really cool.   I'd love to hear about it in the comments section. 

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Endangered by Slavery

Tears of despair trickled down her careworn cheeks as she gazed out the darkened window. Day and night the Evil One is demanding that I let him have the boys. But how can I? They are precious to me! Mentally she looked around her bleak surroundings and groaned deeply. Now that my husband Lawe has died, I have nothing to offer to keep them out of the creditors clutches. I have no talents, not charm, no money"—

                        “Nothing?” The barely audible voice stilled her troubled soul.

Are You Convinced?

Let Christmas come alive for you this year in a breathlessly exciting way! Do you believe that Jesus really walked this earth and lived and breathed just like we do? Do you think He ever got weary, angry, happy or sad? Do you think He played like other children or would He have piously strode around with His head tilted just so so that His halo would remain at the perfect angle?
If this book doesn't leave you enthralled with what an incredible Man Jesus was then let me know. If you can convince me that you truly weren't impressed and aren't just pulling my leg, I'll refund you the money.

Oh, by the way, if you hurry you'll still get a chance to win a free night at our Bed and Breakfast. (You choose the date.) Check out the details on my website.

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

When the Crop Fails

Grandpa and Grandma Jones leaned on their hoes and gazed at the frost-blighted crop. When a tear simmered like a cold jewel on Grandma’s cheek, Grandpa put his arm around her shoulder.

“We tried so hard,” Grandma sighed.

“We should have covered the plants, we should have listened to the weather forecast, we should have"—

“Aye, there is so much we should have done,” his wife sighed.

He helped her get down on her knees wondering all the while, what she wanted to look for. It was obvious that the garden was covered with whitened stocks. The early dawn coolness would soon dissipate and the then blackened stocks would look more pathetic than ever.

Granma searched until she found a pod with over-ripened peas, then another and another. Grandfather stooped down to help her search for seeds, and although pitifully few they did get some.

Grandpa and Grandpa looked at each other with new hope in their eyes. “We failed in so many ways, but there were some good fruit and plenty of good seed to start again.”

“Good seed,” Grandpa murmured looking with the eyes of faith into an unknown future. “Even if the soil was poor and covered with weeds, we need not despair because the seed was God’s.”

With shining eyes, Grandma shifted some seeds from one hand to another. “We will keep planting the good seed into the hearts of our children and grandchildren. Even if their hearts seem crowded with other things-“

“Or frozen—“

“We know that some will sprout—“

“And bring forth good fruit.”

They turned their back on their disappointing past knowing full-well they would keep planting, watering and nurturing each little seedling that sprouted, for surely someday and in some unforeseeable way the Lord would bless their efforts.

T'was the Year 749

Have you heard? The 25th person to buy one or more of my books by  December 25th gets to stay in our Bed and Breakfast FREE for one night!Free Stay in a Bed and Breakfast

Mary rolled over, and the straw pallet rustled beneath her. Nearby she saw the shadowy forms of her sisters, still sound asleep. What awakened her?  She stifled a yawn, then made her way silently over to the window. An orange sun was just arching over the houses to the east. Somewhere an early morning rooster announced that another day had begun. Maybe if I hurry, I'll be able to get a few words written before the rest of the family stirs. She tiptoed silently over to the Family Storage Chest and lifted the lid.

   "Mary'am, what are you doing?" Her six-year-old sister looked sweet with her sleepy eyes and mussed up hair curling over her forehead.  Mary'am placed a finger to her lips. "I want to write in my diary, tinoki," she whispered. She collected her clay pot of ink, reed pen, and the scroll of parchment she had been working on and tiptoed silently out of the room...
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Let's imagine that Mary wrote a diary so that we can have a first-hand account of what it was like to be a mother to the Son of God. In my book Mary's Diary we get the breathtaking version starting with the incredible moment when an angel talked to her.

This story is available either as an ebook or paperback from Amazon. Christmas will never seem quite the same after you've read this book.

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Who Are You Inviting for Christmas?

Happy holidays! How many times have you said that or had someone say that to you? Did it bring a smile to your face? Sure probably, but did it bring a warmth to your heart as you thought of the true reason for the season? 

Or do you even know why so many people all over the world have a celebration right in the middle of the shortest month in the northern hemisphere? 

 Have you ever heard of the tiny baby whose birth was heralded by a whole choir of angels? It looks as if all of Heaven couldn’t contain the joy that a Savior had come down to rescue fallen man from their sins. Did you know that wise men, possibly very wealthy ones at that, had traveled a very great distance to come and see this new born baby, and give Him wonderful gifts? That, by the way, is the reason why we exchange presents at Christmas. 

Traveling wasn’t so easy in those days and we are given reason to believe they journeyed over a vast desert to see the Son of God. This infant was created in the form of man, not only so He could save us, but so He could totally identify and have compassion on us even on our worst days!

Okay, this isn’t just a wonderful mythical story from long ago like the one about Santa Claus. This honestly happened: Jesus truly is the Son of God and millions have gotten to know and love Him to this day  because we know that after He died, He rose again and eventually went back to Heaven and sent a Comforter who gives us joy, peace, and guidance.

So are you going to have a Happy Holiday or a Blessed Christmas? I don’t care for the word ‘Merry’ because it suggests a frivolity that could lead to grief. See the word Christmas? It is announcing for all the world to see that Christ—that tiny baby, Jesus Christ—is supposed to be the center of the season. 

Are you going to invite Christ to your home, or better yet have Him the center of all you do?  Go for it! He is the most awesome Guest you will ever have.

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Who is the Messiah?

Who is the Messiah?

Do You Love Christmas?

The Shepherd's Viewpoint

7th Tevet
December 20th
Dear Diary,
A knock sounded at the portal just now. Just a tiny knock that I may not have heard, if I had not been about to sweep my small pile of dust out the door. Lo, a young lad stood upon my threshold and handed me a bulky parcel which was wrapped in a fluffy white fleece.

"Oh, what a lovely lamb skin. Yeshua will be so cozy when He is snuggled up in it!  And what are these?" I took the topmost clay tablet and examined it with an interested, yet quizzical gaze.

"Do you not know who I am?" he questioned with a disappointed air. Feeling reproached, I realized he was more than just an errand boy, being unsure of his identity, I felt reluctant to venture a guess.

"I am the son of the head shepherd who visited you in the cave."

Recognition dawned. The lamp had been so dim and smoky in that cavern; he had hung shyly towards the back, but now I recognized his fair youthful features.

"Although we are poor in earthly goods", he explained in a quaintly grown-up manner, "we longed to present a gift to the Christ Child."

"What is this all about?" I asked, holding up the tablet.

"It is our memories of the night the angels came to proclaim the glad news. My Abba wrote it!"

"Why thank you, thank you--"

"Joel, the name is Joel bar Abia."

"Thank you, Joel. Would you care for something hot to eat before you go?" I had seen him eying the steaming barley loaves resting beside pottery dishes of freshly churned butter and a delectable honeycomb.

He shrugged his shoulder, reluctantly, I suppose, not wanting to admit how hungry he actually was. I knew it was a long way back to the hills where the shepherds had been keeping watch over their flocks for the last several weeks, so I thrust two freshly buttered loaves into his hands just as Baby started to cry.

Joel watched eagerly as I went to pick up Yeshua. Then he followed me inside and pressed his forehead against the Baby's, tickled Him under the chin and with a boyish hop, scurried out the door, headed towards the hills.

It is time to lay my reed pen down. Yosef will wonder why there are only two barley loaves to go with our soup today. I would hasten to make more, but the coals have grown cold and there is no time. We will just have to make do today by having extra vegetables.



Same day...
Dear Diary,
The shepherds' story was so incredible! I read it to Yosef  this evening while he was whittling away at a handle for some sort of tool, a bow-drill, I think.

(Yea, once again I am thankful that my dohd taught me to read.) I think Yosef enjoyed the story also and I noticed that his eyes were soft when he rose to tuck the blanket about the infant's tiny frame.

We have no room to store the clay tablets in our single-room dwelling, so I will be busy in the next few days transcribing them onto parchment before storing them in the chest with my diary and other precious scrolls. This will be a hard job for me because I have never copied another's writings before.

Remind me to mix up a new batch of ink. I am soon going to run out. I prefer to make my own, since every little thing I do to save money makes it easier for my hard working husband.
This is what the head shepherd wrote:

 I, Abia, bar Dothan will now apply myself to writing down the memoirs of the shepherds' visit to the newborn King. The night I will tell you about will always be fixed in my memory with the slightest detail as clear as if it had but recently happened.

It had begun as a typical night for us shepherds, although colder than some, and those who were not stretched out on the grass fast asleep were huddled close to the fire chatting. Some of us had our young sons with us. Zeke has a trusty old kelev, (dog,) that most of us appreciate very much as he can faithfully make the rounds by himself.
To my right, Aron was carefully pruning away on a twig in order to make a sharp point. For what purpose I knew not.

"So what do you think about the coming of the Mashiach, Judah," he asked?

Judah sighed heavily. "I only wish He would come. When the Yisraelites were in bondage to the Egyptians, they were their slaves for four hundred years before deliverance came. How long is it now since the prophet Malachi plodded where we plod? Four hundred years? HaShem, hallowed be His Name, is silent! We need another deliverer!" He glanced around quickly, then added,
"The Roman taxes are too much to handle as it is, but," his voice lowered, "But it is the tithes that our religious leaders place on everything--absolutely everything that really drains us! No wonder so many of our brethren give up and join the hordes of bandits!"

"But we want to serve His Name faithfully!" Aron, one of the shepherds, protested. "Even if that means tithing."

Judah was about to put him in his place with a heated word or two, but I quickly tried to mollify him.

"There was Judah the Maccabee, your ancestor," I pointed out. "He strove to do his part."

"Yea, and would to HaShem that he was here, now!" Judah snapped the stick that he had been peeling in half, and hurled both ends into the fire. "I would raise up an army myself, but it seems so futile. Many a revolt has flared up, but those dastardly Romans quench it in no time! Their horrible crosses line the hills and roadsides."

We all looked down. Most of us were probably thinking about the disaster in Sepphoris not many years thence, and we dreaded the thought of it being repeated. That was one uprising that resulted in far too many horrible crucifixions.

Judah's chin  jutted out, causing his thin, pointed beard to quiver as he glared at each one of us in turn.

"Think not that I am a coward because I am skulking around in these hills pretending to be a shepherd. They are ferreting out every son of the Maccabees as you well know, so we have to be sly. The time is not right."

None of us cared to disagree with him, nay, not with those fiery eyes boring into us.
We all fell silent. Some of us were inclined to stretch out on our backs; arms folded behind our heads and study the stars, others gazed meditatively at the glowing embers. I was watching the movement of the sheep. Gradually, it dawned upon me that they were becoming increasingly agitated for such a peaceful night.

My son, Joel, broke the stillness with a comment; "We have been learning about the lights in school," he ventured shyly.

"Lights? What lights?" Zeke prodded some sticks deeper into the coals then hunkered down beside Joel.

I spoke up; "He's referring to the lights in the temple in the time of Judah of Maccabee."
Zeke's face brightened, in the flickering fire light I thought I saw lingering smiles soften several countenances.
"That was a  miracle," Joel said.  As his father, I could tell that my son continued to feel ill at ease, surrounded as he was by all those rough, brawny shepherds.

Several heads nodded. There was a relaxing of the atmosphere as we sat back,  reminiscing about Judah and his father Matthias. I am sure 'our' Judah was proud to be a descendant of such brave and fearless warrior--leaders who valiantly rescued Yerushalayim from the wicked Syrian-Greeks."

"I can almost picture their dismay, however, when they finally slashed their way through to the temple, only to find it in shambles." Aron sighed and poked idly at the embers; "What must have shocked those battle-hardened soldiers the most after all that fighting was to find that Jehovah's lamp had gone out and they were able to find only enough pure oil to last for one day!"

"Yet, it lasted for eight days!" Joel's good friend, Micah, piped up. There was a huge grin on his face.

"Until they were able to make more oil," another little fellow added. We all nodded jovially.

"Is there some sig--sig-nif-ee-glance in light? "Micah asked. I hid my grin behind my quivering mustache. Micah always did love to use such ridiculously long words.

"It represents HaShem," I explained.

I had been keeping an eye on the kelev, dog while we talked. He seemed restless and uneasy.

Now, he sat down on his haunches, and half whined, half whimpered at the sky.

Zeke arched his hand over his eyes. "Can't see any strange prowlers out there . . . can you?" He unfolded his long frame and ambled over to the kelev.

"Look at that!" Joel breathed, pointing with a shaking finger. Far in the distance, one star seemed to be hurtling towards us. As it increased mightily in size, as one man, we were pulled to our feet to stare at it. Then we saw that it was the radiant form of an extraterrestrial being, an Angel from far beyond the starry skies.

Terrified, we prostrated ourselves on the ground, and buried our faces in our arms. As quickly as the fear overcame us, it was quenched by the most majestic, yet beautiful, voice any of us had ever heard.

"Fear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people." Fear not? I looked up timidly, yet expectantly, and then the rest of what he said sank in.

What does he mean? All people? Blacks? Scythians? Greeks? Romans? Gaul's, bond, and free? Or did he just mean Jewish people and their Yisraelites brethren across the Euphrates, and elsewhere? What a marvelous message we were receiving!

But wait! He is not done! We gazed upon each other with looks of incredible joy as the angel explained how we would know it was true.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord." A Savior? In the City of David? That's Beth Lechem!!

"Come with me! We must go find him!" But in the space of a heartbeat, before I could even utter those words, the sky seemed to explode with a thousand twinkling lights; in the blink of an eye they were transformed into the most magnificent gathering of Angels that this world has ever seen.

I will never be able to comprehend why we poor, lowly shepherds were given the privilege of hearing that awe inspiring celebration, but I am telling you, we were sure thrilled.

 It's a good thing that ole Zeke's kelev is a dependable critter, because wild hyenas could not have kept us woolly shepherds from rushing pell-mell into the city, trouping down the streets to find where baby Yeshua lay. You should have heard the shouting an' singing, an' general carrying on while we scurried over those hills.

It didn't last, though. Such a deep hush came over us when we stooped to enter the cave, and followed the smoky trail of the poor pilgrim's oil lamp. He led us, we were almost on tiptoe, to where the newborn Baby lay nestled in his weary, but happy mother's arms. We all dropped to our knees in worshipful adoration.

You should have seen Judah as he held that small infant. The tears trickled down his weathered, craggy cheeks and he kept murmuring;

"He's come; the Deliverer has come."

All glory, praise, and honor belong to our great Yahweh for allowing us the honor of worshipping His Newborn Son. The Light of the world arrived on Chanukkah.
https://www.createspace.com/4837922

Let's Get Into the Christmas Spirit

Chanukahs

Festival of lights

25^th Chisleu

December 9^th

He’s come! Yehoshua has come! I cannot begin to express my gratitude and adoration. What a privilege it is to be the first one to hold the treasured Son of Yahweh. Oh dear, tears are running down my face again. He is so precious. I just can’t say it enough. It tugs at my heart strings when I see how incredibly tiny and helpless He, the Son of El’Shaddai, is.

I wanted to cradle Him longer, much longer, but Yosef yearned to hold Him also. Yosef is sitting in the straw nearby and it makes me rejoice to see the man I adore cuddling the most wonderful Baby in the world.

25^th  Chisleu

December 10^th

Dear Diary,

This has been a strange and wonderful night. Yosef and I had no desire to sleep so we leaned against each other, gazing adoringly at the wide-eyed baby in our arms. I half wished that  (how quickly

we have shortened His name) would cry so I could cuddle and hush him gently with a lullaby or two. But He was so wide awake and calm, looking at us with those warm, beautiful eyes of His.

I almost think He knows who we are; but do not all fond parents imagine their  babies are smarter than they are capable of being? Who knows, maybe this one is. It will be interesting and delightful raising such a sweet boy. If I ever have another one, it will be much too easy to compare him with Yeshua, I fear.

It has been so cozy, almost homey in the cave tonight. A wee, sweet-faced kid scampered over to us and stared at our tiny boy inquisitively. When our baby made a soft mewing sound, the baby goat looked so surprised that I started to giggle.

Earlier, we heard some brawlers carrying on. They made me feel most uncomfortable, but someone must have told them to either be quiet  or leave so those of us who wished to sleep could sleep. There are others sharing our crowded quarters but they are far enough away that

we are afforded some privacy. It is so calm and peaceful now, as a little halo of light from the lantern surrounds our little family.

Hark! I hear something faintly in the distance! It’s music,like singing, or chanting perhaps. It must be the loveliest melodic sounds this world has ever heard. What can it mean?

The First Christmas Is Drawing Nigh

24^th  Chisleu

December 9^th

Dear Diary,

This has been a very, very hard day. I am almost too weary to write, but I must because such memorable things are happening. My body is being wracked with pain. I’ve clung to the poor donkey’s neck and I let my veil conceal my face so Yosef would not see how difficult it has been for me. Not that I fooled him for one moment. He is so anxious, he keeps asking whether or not we should press on to reach Beth Lechem’s khan, (inn), by nightfall or if he should let me rest more often.

As it is, many have tramped on ahead. We are left behind with the roving wild animals, the geshem,, and perhaps even bandits for company. But I do not need to think of that. My emotions are fragile for many reasons, somehow, I still know that Adonai,  hallowed be His Name,  will care for us and His own beloved Son.

24 Chisleu

December 9^th

continued

This page will surely be unreadable because I can’t keep the tears from falling. We finally reached Beth Lechem by nightfall but there was no room at the khan, no room at all! All the rooms above the shelter for the animals were overcrowded with wealthy wayfarers, much wealthier than us. In the courtyard below, the animals had scarcely enough room to shuffle around.

The innkeeper seemed apologetic, but helpless. Yosef pleaded for him to suggest someplace—anywhere for us to stay, but the poor, overwrought innkeeper shook his head sorrowfully.

“I am sorry. So sorry,” the innkeeper said, stroking his long, wavy beard agitatedly. He lifted his hand to point at the people crowding around.

“See this multitude? They too are in the same predicament that you are in.”

“But is there not somewhere, anywhere that we can go?”

In Yosef’’s desperation, he reached out to clutch the steward’s striped garment.

“Look, it is not for me that I am concerned,” Yosef continued, “t is for my wife! She is young, slight of build, yet great with child. I fear that all this traveling may bring travail upon her earlier than it ought. We need to find a shelter where she can rest.”

The paunchy innkeeper’s brow furrowed as he gazed around, as if looking for direction. Someone plucked at his sleeve, demanding attention, with a scowl he nudged him aside.

“On yonder ridge is the town, but you will fare no better there.  Nary a house is not overfilled with guests at this time. Many have long awaited the  census already,  and I fear no one is willing or able to take in more travellers.”

“But is there no where for us to go? We are of the lineage of David!”

‘”The lineage of David? Aye, that should help, should help. Know you not of any relative you could stay with?”
            Yosef wrung his hands. “I know of none. We should have inquired earlier..

The innkeeper stepped back and fumbled with his sash. “This small town is not able to contain all those of David’s line.” He finally admitted, sighing heavily.

“Yonder ridge has its share of caves. Many of them will be used as stables in this present predicament, but if you can find a little rest in one of them, you are welcome to it. I will send a servant after you with fresh straw.

“If you require a midwife before the night is over, I may find a moment to check into it, but it will be nigh impossible to secure one at this time. More than one woman is in the same dire condition as your sweet wife.”

In gratitude, Yosef took his hand, clasped it, then reached for the lead strap on the donkey so we could clamber awkwardly down among the rocks in search of a grotto turned into a stable. I lowered the veil back over my face, lest Yosef would see the despair written there.

We did find a cave, however, without too much searching.

When Yosef was able to get the clay lamp lit, it seemed more cozy and inviting. It was rather crowded, unfortunately. Yosef is trying to

persuade some of our fellow cave dwellers to take their lowing, smelly, burden bearers and hustle off to give us a measure of peace.

I am so weary that all I want to do is remove my wet garments, find something dry to wear, and try to rest.  Yosef was rather anxiously fluffing up the fresh straw, which was delivered by a young lad with a hand cart, he is now shaking out our blanket.

I laid  the baby’s swaddling strips near the fire to dry. Fortunately, we had kept one blanket packed well so it wouldn’t get wet on the trip. It was somewhat damp in a couple places but it was better than nothing. We sat beside a central fire until I was warmed up, which seemed to take

forever, then we crawled under our one rather thin blanket together.

In the stall next to ours are two donkeys, tied up, their owners are lounging against a nearby wall. At the far end of the cave, there is some activity going on. I think a shepherd is about to aid a ewe giving birth. Will there be two male ‘lambs’ born before the night is o’er?

24^th Chisleu

December 9^th

Dear Diary,

I feel that my time is drawing nigh, I am anxious. It is frightening to think of having my baby without my mother, or a midwife nearby. I am worried about the baby. What will happen if He comes before we can move on to a better dwelling? This cave is not clean enough!

Two of the wayfarers, a middle-aged couple, were cooperative and helped us out. Some of the others growled that they were here first and were not at all inclined to be agreeable under such chilly weather conditions.

I fear they have been indulging too long in the wine that is red.

Oh, surely, surely Adonai, hallowed be His Name, will be with me during this difficult time. My every breath is a prayer that  Adonai will

protect His own Beloved Son and me.

By the dejected slope of Yosef’’s shoulders, I can sense that he feels that he has somehow failed me and us. I must stop writing now and tell him how warm and inviting it all looks by the light of the lamp. Surely these stabbing pains will ease now that I have a place to rest. It seems too soon for the little one to make His appearance.

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