Better Than A Fairy Tale

Do you want to hear a story that is so marvelous that you’ll think I made it up? I know for a fact that it is true ‘cuz it happened to me over forty years ago and the results ripple right down to the present.

Okay, where shall I start? Guess what, I have something in common with a lot of you. I come from a broken home. I know the anguish of seeing a marriage torn apart right in front of my eyes and feeling the effects in my own soul because it was my Mom and Dad.

Ours was one of those old-fashioned homes where you didn’t tell others what was going on behind closed doors: gotta put on a good front, y’know. So what was the result? Pain and heartache and groping in despair.

But I did reach out: I was not as reserved as some of my siblings so talked to our pastor, or at least tried too. He listened impassively, or so it seemed. I got more desperate: our home was falling apart right in front of my eyes, Mom and Dad didn’t love one another anymore, and I and my hapless brothers and sisters were caught in the vortex.

So I did what only a writer would do, I put my heartache in words, in poem form actually, and gave it to him when I had the opportunity. What did he do? He gave it back and said: “that’s very nice.” Did it help? Nope. (Wish I still had that poem.)

I see that this is going to end up being a whole lot longer than I had expected, but I promise you it does have a happy ending. What a trite word. Come on give me a better one, joyous, blessed, comforting,-- gratifying? No one word seems to describe what I went, and am going through.

But I know you have places to go, and things to do, so stay tuned until tomorrow, and yes, I’ll keep writing while you face your day.

 P.S. Please check out my book. (Link below.) If you want to escape from a troubled past and hope for a better future, this may be the most comforting book you will ever read, 

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No Divorce!

 The Christmas story from Mary's Viewpoint. She has just returned from visiting Elizabeth and Zachariah.

21^st Av

August 9^th

Amen Alleluia El’ Elohim! I am home again, and the best news of

all: Yosef is willing to take me as his wife! Yes, you read correctly! Yosef

is willing to take me as his wife!

I will not be put aside after all! I will not have to endure the shame, and awful humiliation of a divorce!

I clung to him like I would never let go while the tears rained down my

cheeks. He kept caressing my face, and wiping at the tears with his thumbs, saying

“There, there, it’s all alright.”

I wasn’t the only one that was crying though. He turned aside more than once,

and used his sleeve to dry off his wet cheeks. He confessed that he was

also relieved it had worked out this way. That told me a lot about how

devoted he is to me, and to HaShem.

After we got somewhat over our joyous reunion we sat down on a stone bench in a shady nook, and he told me what caused him to change his mind. It was a dream!

How thrilling! The Lord God, Yahweh, sent an angel to visit Yosef one night in order to convince him to marry me after all.

Don’t tell anyone, but it makes me nervous to think HaShem is so closely involved in our lives.

And, oh by the way, Hilde is being more considerate towards me now that Yosef

made his decision, and told her about the dream. Perhaps she cannot quite

believe it, but if her precious Yosef is happy with me, that is good

enough for her. Whatever he does seems to be about perfect in Hilde’s

eyes. I wonder if I will ever act that way towards my sons.

Yaakov, on the other hand . . . (Sigh . . .) Why is he so critical of

me? Maybe it would be better not to talk about him. It makes me too

distressed.  It is enough that Hilde is more approachable, and Yosef, my

Chavivi, Yosef, is just wonderful! In fact I wonder if having that dream

has made him even more tender hearted and kind than before. (If that were possible!)

11^th Elul

September 10^th

 Dear Diary

I suppose it is shameful, but I shed some tears tonight because we

will not be having a traditional, Jewish wedding. Such a ceremony would be

inappropriate in my condition.

I had dreamed for years of what my challah would look like and was hoping for a tall graceful canopy of fine white linen such as my parent’s friends from Bethashbea, make and sell. Perhaps they would have even given us a good cut in price.

I was dreaming of having the most fragrant pink roses that we could

find, tucked in here and there on the canopy. I’m sure Rizpah, who is

another dear friend of my mother’s, would have gladly given us some

for the occasion. She grows the loveliest damask roses of anyone I know. (Well, other than my mother’s Imma.)

Ever since I first noticed Yosef as a wee talitha of seven spring times, I

have often daydreamt of him, and me standing beneath it!

 Imma has some vines clinging to the front of our white brick house. I was hoping

to plant some into pots well ahead of time, and have them bordering the

archway on either side of the canopy and interlaced throughout the

roses. Would that not have been ever so lovely?

My dearest friends and I have often chattered about how delightful

it would be to help each other prepare for our mitzvahs.

I can almost feel the nervous excitement I would have felt as they

helped me into my wedding garments.

 They would have taken turns brushing out my hip length hair, and we would chatter happily as they busied themselves preparing all the rest.

I love to imagine the look of awe on Yosef’s face, when he sees

my hair uncovered for the first time!

It is fortunate that you cannot see my woebegone expression. I

must, I will refrain from repining over the loss of a beautiful wedding

when I have the more glorious honor of nurturing the son of Adonai.

To think I am the one woman in the whole wide world to have been given this

responsibility, this honor!

P.S. What a joy it is to be accepted into Yosef’s favour once again. I

could collapse with relief.

Unexpected Advice

Sometimes God gives us unexpected advice. Like this morning hubby said something that I did not appreciate. It was true enough, sure, but not what I wanted to hear. I was so irked that I knew it was important to flee to the 'closet of prayer' before I let something slip that shouldn't be said.

Then do you know what? God also gave me unexpected advice! He said "Enter His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise." Do you think I was in the mood to do that? No sir!  But I started by thanking Him for all the times He had helped us in the past, and so on.

So did that 'bugged' feeling vanish like a balloon in the sunset sky? Well, no, not quite, but it sure wasn't bad enough to make me snap at the one I love most on earth. And you know what? I even felt kind of happy.

So that's my sermon for today!