Mary Letter Day 3

Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, ‘It is written,
“My house shall be called a house of prayer”;
   but you are making it a den of robbers.’

The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them. But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that he did, and heard the children crying out in the temple, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David’, they became angry and said to him, ‘Do you hear what these are saying?’ Jesus said to them, ‘Yes; have you never read,
“Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies
   you have prepared praise for yourself”?’
He left them, went out of the city to Bethany, and spent the night there.

In the morning, when he returned to the city, he was hungry. And seeing a fig tree by the side of the road, he went to it and found nothing at all on it but leaves. Then he said to it, ‘May no fruit ever come from you again!’ And the fig tree withered at once. When the disciples saw it, they were amazed, saying, ‘How did the fig tree wither at once?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only will you do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, “Be lifted up and thrown into the sea”, it will be done. Whatever you ask for in prayer with faith, you will receive.’

Matthew 21:12-22

Dear Auntie,

I have been out in the garden praying late in to the night. I feel like a stranger in the house I was born, an alien in my parents' home. Joseph has not returned from his work site in the city, but Papa is already making plans to have me sent away from here. He wants me to be gone before my big belly starts to show. He keeps saying I have brought shame on them and asks over and over who the father is. When I try to tell him, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

I am wondering whether I can come and visit with you for a time. First, I have to see Joseph on his return and talk to him face to face. I'm would rather just run away. I know I have to hang in there, forgive my Papa and Momma for not understanding and honor God despite it all. I pray as much as I can and find some peace in the nighttime garden. The winds sings and comforts me and the noise of this crazy time quiets for a bit.

When I know when I can come to you, I will write. I'm sure Papa will be happy to be rid of me for a few days. Pray for me. I need help getting through the next struggles ahead.

Much love,

Mary


Artist - Betty Albert