Mary Letter Day Twenty-Eight

1 Let God arise, and let 

his enemies be scattered; * 

let those who hate him

 flee before him. 

 2 Let them vanish like

 smoke when the wind

 drives it away; * 

as the wax melts at the fire, 

so let the wicked perish

 at the presence of God. 

 3 But let the righteous 

be glad and rejoice 

before God; * 

let them also be 

merry and joyful.

4 Sing to God, sing 

praises to his Name; 

exalt him who rides 

upon the heavens; * 

Yahweh is his Name, 

rejoice before him! 

 5 Father of orphans, 

defender of widows, * 

God in his holy habitation! 

 6 God gives the solitary 

a home and brings forth 

prisoners into freedom; * 

but the rebels 

shall live in dry places. 

 7 O God, when you went 

forth before your people, * 

when you marched 

through the wilderness, 

 8 The earth shook, 

and the skies poured down rain, 

at the presence of God, 

the God of Sinai, * 

at the presence of God, 

the God of Israel. 

9 You sent a gracious rain, 

O God, upon your inheritance; * 

you refreshed the land when it was weary. 

 10 Your people found their home in it; * 

in your goodness, O God, 

you have made provision for the poor. Psalm 68:1-10

Dear Auntie,

We are still here in Bethlehem, in the stable, hiding during daylight hours. I ache to be on the road home, to have this city in my past. I cannot tell Mama and Papa how I feel and what goes on here, I don't want them to worry any more than they do. You understand and for that I am so grateful. The constant noise, the revolting smells of animals and people and the constant sight of armed soldiers has frayed my nerves. I haven't gotten a full night sleep since the baby was born and the lack of sleep is catching up with me. We try hard to keep him from crying as we don't want to draw attention to where we are. It's exhausting, Auntie, and sometimes I can't stop the tears. I am ashamed of my weakness, yet Joseph is understanding and holds me close when I am falling apart.

Our chance for fresh air comes at night. We sit out under the stars and talk quietly. We usually take some aromatic tea with honey, which is sweet and soothing to our dusty throats and irritated noses. The noise of the city subsides at night so we are able to whisper instead of shouting. I don't understand why people want to live like this, but t think the crowding is much worse since the occupation. We often recite prayers, psalms and hymns together to calm our anxious spirits. I know that our Lord is among the poor and the prisoners, and is with us here in this stable. I ache for the wide-open country of home. pray that we can travel soon, for this is hard on all of us. We want to be a family together, living without the fear and danger that surrounds us here.

Much love,

Mary