Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Tuesday 30 August 2016

The Afghan and the Mouse



I watched it being made: it was a creation of incredible beauty. There were squares for each of our children and nothing was more precious, more valuable than that afghan:
Our children’s lives.
I loved watching it develop slowly before my wondering eyes. Woven together with prayers and lots of love it would be cherished forever.
But it was marred.
The Master Weaver had me helping. His part was perfect, flawless and beautiful, and when He guided my hands my awkwardness was minimized, His talent shone through.
Although lacking, I still love it.
It is mine, ours; something to be cherished forever. We tried our best but over time damage was revealed: a mouse had chewed holes into the fabric.
I’ll not give up.
It’s still beautiful to me, so precious. I lift it up to show the Master Weaver: Mend it please, could you, please. It took years to create; will it take years to repair?
I’ll wait. And pray.
Lord, use my hands, more patient now from years of grief and experience to help mend. Make us into a soft, comfortable afghan that will bring joy to all.

Marilyn Friesen

Tuesday 8 March 2016

Better Than a Fairy Tale? Well Not Yet

Okay, I promised to tell more of my life-story so here goes.
So here I was just a young teenager with my heart torn and bleeding. I didn’t know it at the time, but that impassive indifference between me and the pastor of the church we had always attended had started a rift.
Things didn’t get better, right away, they worsened. Soon I was facing the worse day of my life, and that is not a trite statement! I still think it probably was, and it became a pivotal point in my journey. Dad asked, no, rather expected me to go along with him on one of his numerous electrical trips to far flung communities. I had gone along before with a certain amount of trepidation because of what he had attempted to do to me in the past. (Ya, and had done when I was younger.)
So here I was in some little farmhouse in the middle of Who-Knows-Where and I walked into the pale, non-descript kitchen, and stopped. They are talking about me. I froze. Dad was talking about giving me away, abandoning me like an unwanted kitten or puppy. Oh, sure, it was called fostering, but I didn’t think of it that way. I just knew he wanted to tear me away from the only family I knew and loved.
I don’t remember how I arrived there, but suddenly found myself in the woods across the graveled road with tall, very tall fir trees surrounding me. To say I bawled my eyes out isn’t trite, either. Don’t know how long I stayed there, but common sense told me I had to go back eventually, so I did. No one had missed me.
I wandered around, looking into the spare bedroom, etc. and wondered if this would be my new home.
Time was moving along so I looked in on ‘them’ in the kitchen. They were still talking, but I got the drift of it, the farm wife didn’t think it would be a good idea to take me in. I didn’t linger to hear more.
The news was too little, and too late. The damage was done. I went to the car and sooner or later Dad joined me. We drove off leaving my innocent childhood behind.

 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, 

Monday 7 March 2016

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, 

https://www.createspace.com/4837922

Saturday 5 December 2015

Tumbling into a Valley



Now where shall I start this article? I have spent three glorious weeks travelling and it has been truly a mountaintop experience, but now I have tumbled down into the valley. See that little old lady with a cane? Well that feels like me.
All that driving in a car really crippled me up and I still can’t walk—change that to limp—without discomfort. I told my hubby last night that I felt imprisoned in my own body. Okay, that’s the down side of my experience, but there is a definite UP side. We stopped to see relatives in various places as far flung from each other as Edmonton, Alberta and way down to Oklahoma. We did go further than that though: Mississippi was our goal.
 Do you know what people have in common? A caring attitude.
When we reached Stephen’s sister is Kansas, I pretended to walk normally but didn’t deceive anyone. It wasn’t long before they were hovering over me like I was a beautiful bird with a broken wing.  Did that compassion soon stop? Nope. Because of generous, concerned loved ones, I ended up seeing chiropractors not once but four times before we arrived back home, and once since.
I admit being a little leery of having my bones manipulated, but hey, when you are desperate enough, you’ll do anything right?  To my surprise chiropractic methods have really soared over the last thirty years, and I was introduced to something called an Activator which really helped.  Believe it or not, anyone could have seen the improvement in my walk if there had been a before and after video taken.
No, it wasn’t a magic cure-all but hey, it took years to get into this condition which was caused mainly by an ancient injury, but at least I see light at the top of the valley I have tumbled into.
Oh, by the way, when I started rambling I didn’t really know which way this article was going, but there is one thing I must share with you.

Medical problems in the states aren’t something we Canadians look forward to having, but do you know what? Four of those treatments, plus ointment, plus pills and plus a couple of informative books were all provided anonymously free of charge. Any wonder why I’m feeling a bit teary-eyed?

Tuesday 27 January 2015

Partridge Exposed!



 I don’t know so terribly much about partridges but suspect they have a lot in common with chickens. Anyone who knows me well knows how fond I am of raising free range hens and selling the eggs. But there is something even more enjoyable than that. It is watching Mama Bird possessively brood over a nest of eggs and patiently wait, with barely any food or water, for those little guys to be mature enough to peck their way out of the shells. Her nurturing instinct doesn’t end there, however, and I love to see how she calls her little brood over to share some food she has discovered. I love even more how they nestle under her wings yet peek out, out of curiosity at the friendly world around them. I have an amusing memory of one ‘teenage’ chick

Monday 17 March 2014

Just Pretend to Change

This is another part to Claudine's story.    The original is from the Martyr's Mirror. Stroll back and read from the beginning. Part one is The Couple Next Door, part Two: Apprehended, and so on. It will make a whole lot more sense that way. :) 

“Claudine, don't be so hard on yourself,” a childhood friend pleaded as she handed her a basket after the guard had left. “Just give lip service to their demands.”

Claudine's eyes widened. “You mean tell them I won't serve Jesus anymore?”

Friday 28 February 2014

Apprehended: Part Two

     
“Goedemorgen, Claudine!” Verena hurried over to the young mother who was strolling down a wooded path near their town home. “May I take a peek at your baby? Hallo Jans, did I wake you up? What a sweet little boy you are!” She sighed happily and looked around. “What a perfectly lovely day to be out for a walk. Aren't spring days beautiful?”
Claudine nodded. “ Pieter and Nicholaes do not play too far from the path. We need to go home after a while to make supper for your father.”
“Where is Margriete?” Verena asked while she was making silly facial expressions to get the rosy cheeked lad to giggle.
“Over yonder,” Claudine pointed. “She is gathering an armful of flowers to fill our rooms with.”
“Meenen is such a pretty little town.”
Claudine fell silent. At least it doesn't have a dungeon like Ypres does. She suddenly felt cold and it had nothing to do with the stirring of a summer-like breese. How I would hate to be confined to a dark prison cell when the air is so fresh and there are all kinds of interesting things to do. She felt her grip tighten around the baby's small form. Verena didn't notice Claudine's change of mood. She was already rushing back to chat with Margriete.
“Mama!” Pieter called. “May I hold Jans please?”
Claudine handed the baby to his brother who promptly sat down in the grass and entertained him by tickling his face with a daisy.
What happy, sweet children I have, and such a good husband. Why then am I feeling cast-down in my soul, all of a sudden? Claudine started singing and the rich, pure tones filled the air with a rare beauty.
Claudine had a good soup cooking by the time Piersom entered the door. Claudine quirked her eyebrows. He didn't bound in with his usual boisterous good humor.
Piersom motioned for her to step outside.
“Margariete, you can start feeding Jans. He's so hungry after all that fresh air this afternoon. Yes, Piersom?”
Her husband closed the door behind Claudine before speaking. Then he laid his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her warm, brown eyes. “ Hendric matched my step as I was returning home from work.”
Claudine nodded. Why such a sober look?
“Titelmannus is out and about.”
“Who is he?”( Why did I whisper?) 
“The Dean of Ronse.”
When his wife still wore a blank expression, Piersom continued, “The Inquisitor.Hendric, a pious councillor warned me to flee. I will hide in yonder woods.He has found out that I am a believer.”
“Could you not pause to sup with us? You will be tired after such a long day.”
“Nay, I must hasten. He may have rounded up the bailiffs already to come and fetch me.” He turned to go, then paused. “You come, to, Claudine. They may be after you as well.”
Claudine knew the danger they were in. “I will fetch the baby, but you go! Go! Don't wait for me! I'll be but a moment later.”

“Where's Papa?”
“Why doesn't Papa come in for supper? I am hungry!”
“Papa and I are going for a little walk. Go ahead and eat. Pieter, you can lead in prayer. Hallo Janzie! My what a sopping wet baby! Did he eat much?”
Margariete nodded. “Everything that I mashed up for him.”
Claudine quickly and deftly changed the baby's sodden garments then hurried out the door.
She saw a ragtag, but determined looking bunch of men heading down the street so ducked into the woods and quickened her pace.

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Claudine de Vettre

MARTYRS MIRROR