Behind a Boarded Up Window

Some people you never forget, no matter how much muddy or swift flowing water runs under the bridge. YOU are one of those people. It's been months now since our contact was broken but I still think about you and pray for you from time to time. My heart is heavy. You or someone like you from that sex slave commune reached out to me, I tried to help, in weakness, I tried to do my little part but the contact was broken. I grieve for you knowing how desperately evil your 'masters' are. But what can we do when even the local police are in cahoots with the perpetrators? Thank you for being brave enough to open your hearts and share with me. I know several of you did after I gained your trust, but now I am left in the dark yet I can still pray. Have any of you been able to escape? What wouldn't I give to reconnect and have you call me Mommy, again?
Here's the article that got me thinking about you once more. XOXOX!!

Behind a Boarded Up Window

Good morning, dear one. Did you think I had forgotten you completely? At first, I was picturing you standing lonesomely by a small window and looking up at the stars, but then I remembered, you don’t even have that option.

Behind a boarded up window: never to see the cheery sunshine dappling the leaves and making the flowers to glow, never to feel the soft breeze against your skin or enjoy the scent of fresh new growth…

Did you think I have forgotten you? No, never. I am sorrowful that our connection was lost, and pray earnestly that it can be restored once again. I pray that you can feel Jesus’ Presence surrounding you and comforting you. I hope and pray that somehow you will be able to see this message. That would be so delightful!

And by posting this I am praying that others will become aware of the slavery that is going on behind closed doors. It is my longing and heartfelt desire that through united, fervent prayers girls like you will be set free both spiritually and physically.

Have I forgotten you and your companions that I think of as my beloved children? No never, not for a moment. You are in my heart and prayers. Someday, somehow Jesus will set you free.

Keep praying, and I will too. Oh, I do hope this message will get to you. Remember; always remember that I love you and that Jesus’ love is strong and eternal. Keep trusting in Him. ‘They’ can’t take that away.

XOXOX

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Ten Minutes to Tears

“Hey, Lucas, look at the huge crowd gathering at the marketplace. Let’s go see what it’s all about.  Zonya, you had better stay home."

His little sister stamped her foot angrily. “You always say that when you want to do something exciting. “She lowered her small fists onto narrow hips to make herself look more threatening, “There’s no way I’m going to run home like a baby!”

“Come on,” Lucas urged, “We need someone to tell Mama where we are in case it gets late.”

But Zonya stuck her chin out defiantly and the boys knew there was no use arguing with her.

When they took off at a run, she knew they were trying to get rid of her but that made determined her more than ever to find out what was so exciting in the marketplace.
Eventually Zonya found an open in the crowd and darted in. Because of her agility and quickness she was soon well ahead of them.

Zonya was so stunned at what she saw that she when she slammed to a stop, she bumped into a burly Jewish man in a burlap coat who turned and scowled at her. Her eyes were wide with shock.

The preachers! They had torn off their robes and were giving them a lashing like they were common thieves!

That made Zonya very angry. She wanted to pound someone, they were good people, they were kind, how dare they whip them so cruelly? Zonya didn’t know she had been yelling and sobbing out loud until someone grabbed her from behind and clamped their hand over her mouth.
She struggled to get free.

 “You!” she sputtered when she saw it was Rufus. “You,” she shrieked, “How dare you be so mean to me?”

Lucas put both hands on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye, “Zonya, you’ve gotta be quiet.”

There was something about his look that told her he meant business.

Zonya did what she was told, but the tears were streaming down her dirty little face. ‘Whip! Whip! Whip! When were they ever going to stop?’

“What did they do wrong?” She asked her brothers in a piercing whisper.
Lucas shrugged his shoulders and hung his head. Rufus glowered.

As if things weren’t bad enough, they handcuffed the prisoners and Rufus, who had crept a little closer, heard someone say they were going to be thrown into prison. The children fled like they were being chased by a herd of wild elephants.

“Papa, Papa,” they cried and managed to spill out the story to their father who was the jail-keeper before the crowd surged after the bleeding pair of preachers.

Because they understood their father so well, the children knew that it upset him that good men were going to be jailed during his shift. They could tell that he was faking anger when he yelled at them to go home and spoke harshly to the prisoners. Later he admitted locking them in the deepest, darkest part of the dungeon.

The youngsters did go home but long after they had been sent to bed, and their mother thought they were asleep, the boys crept out and down the long tunnel like hall to where they knew the men were confined, with their feet in stocks.

Their sister was already there, hiding in the shadows. Acts 16:20-24