Help! Where Have I Been?

 Help! Where have I been?? I've been feeling like my tires were

spinning in a mud hole while  the tools I needed were in my trunk all along.  So what tools you ask? 

Mary's View of the First Christmas (continued)

20th Chisleu

December 16th

20th Chisleu

December 16th

Traveling has not been so bad after all

Grieving Mary

Excerpt from my book: Mary's Diary, the Life of Jesus through His Mother's Eyes

Dear Diary;

I am so distressed! There is something in the air! I can feel it! The

animosity towards Yeshua is as thick as an ominous cloud. I know the

religious rulers are planning evil against Him. I know He is not safe

here. Oh, Yeshua, Yeshua, I wish You hadn’t come. I wish You would

flee like a bird to the mountains! I wish that HaShem, God would somehow

hide You like He did when they wanted to cast you off the embankment

in Nazareth! I fear for You! I’m so afraid the Great I AM will not save

you, this time.

Oh, El’Elohim, have mercy, please, please have mercy on my Son.

231

Eventide

Of the same day

Dear Diary;

Yeshua and His talmidim, disciples went to a friend’s place to celebrate the

Passover. I would have given all that I have to have been there with Him.

I spend much time on the rooftop gazing at the darkening sky, my

hands clasped in prayer. I think I saw Him leave John Mark’s house

and head for the Olive Orchard. Oh I wish He would stay where it is

safe . . . a little safer, at least.

Later, much later; I saw soldiers with torches heading that way.

It can mean no good. Oh, that my eyes could see in the dark and

penetrate through trees, so I could know what was going on. Someone

tell me, please, what is that hubbub in the streets all about? At this

hour. Oh, what is going on? Tell me, please, tell me what is going on?

Oh, Yeshua, Yeshua! Are you safe? Is it well with You?

Dear Diary;

A man is running down the street! Would He be coming to this

house? He runs like Yochanam (John)

! He sees me! He is calling my name! He

wants me to come! It must be because of Yeshua!

I must go!

20th Nissan

April 12th

Dear Diary;

They crucified my Son, today. I can hardly bear to sit down and

write, yet if I do, perchance there will be healing for my spirit. Nay

there cannot be healing. Nothing can heal my torn, bleeding, broken

spirit. There is no grief as insufferable as losing a tinoki in such a cruel,

heartless way. I can not go on.

The agony is too great.

232

20th Nissan

April 12th

Dear Diary;

Sleep has fled, and my head is pounding terribly so I might as well

try to put my thoughts on paper. It has always helped in the past. I shall

never be able to get those horrible scenes out of my mind. No one can

describe my suffering as I stood on the dark, wind-swept hill watching

my Son, my beautiful, dear, precious Son writhe in pain while the

lightning flashed around Him. The lightning seemed to be trying, but

never quite succeeding, to strike Him like vicious serpents! Oh, why

did they do this to Him? He was always so good, and kind, and loving.

Why did HaShem allow it?

There is one thin shaft of light that has pierced my agony. Even

while dear Yeshua hung there on the cross, He remembered how much

I would be suffering, and weakly called out to me; “Madam, behold

Thy Son!” My eyes were drawn to His eyes, and although I saw so

much concern for me in them, I also saw so much pain that I could

hardly handle it! They seemed to be saying, “I am doing this for you,

Imma, and all of the rest of God’s children, besides.”

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?AuthorID=181889

Then his eyes turned toward John, and He said to him, “Behold

your mother.” I think He was asking His beloved disciple John to

care for me because His own brothers were still irritated or confused by

the kind of Man He had been. John has a tender heart much like

Yeshua’s own. In some way, in a soothing way, it will seem like having

Yeshua back home with me, because John will not be gone all the

time doing miracles, and drawing crowds like Yeshua did.

Oh, how could I forget . . . even for a moment! He won’t be gone . . .

gone . . . like . . . ohhhh . . .

Much later; I sank to my knees, sobbing my heart out.

John knelt beside me. He let me bury my head on his shoulder,

just like a beloved son would.