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!

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  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. 

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