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

One Down, Three Left

Logan, I saw you last night. Did you see me? I think you did. I saw you just once, maybe twice, glancing my way. You know I have a mother-heart for you, don’t you. Did you know that I was praying for you? You, four young men, were singing a powerful song. You have tremendous tenor and bass voices and the song itself was so beautiful, but I noticed the lack, and I’m sure you three brothers felt it keenly. You used to be four dark haired, tall, good-looking brothers who swelled the rafters with your enthusiastic a cappella singing and now there was only three. Your sibling, who you had been with all your growing up years, had fallen away, and you rounded out—no I mean squared off the quartet with a blond haired friend who also is a good singer.

But it wasn’t quite the same. Lots of us know that you, too, are just hanging on by a thread. When I caught your eye, did you sense I was praying for you? One of your brothers has gone out into the world, but surely you know how earnestly the other two are pulling for you? One of you chose the song about Christ building a bridge the day He died. This bridge was built to cover the chasm separating us from God. From my vantage point, I could see how fervently one of your brothers was singing and got the feeling it was for you, Logan.

 One of your brothers fell away but a friend who nearly lost out recovered and was up there singing with you. He found victory, and you can too. We also are building a bridge that’s strong enough for you to reach safety. I know, we all know, at least in part  the reason it seems so difficult for you to live a faithful Christian life, but our prayers are building a bridge for you, Logan.

I’d like to pray for you, _________________whatever your name is. My heart goes out to all the Logan’s and Lisa’s in this world who would like to be Christians, but find that their feet are slipping. You can anonymously send me an email and share a bit of your problem and I’ll gladly pray for you. I’ll willingly listen, also, if you want to ‘talk’. stevenme@hotmail.ca So what is your problem? Contact me on hangouts if you like.

 https://www.createspace.com/6616695

Euphoria Vanished??

I suppose you are wondering if the euphoria of being healed wore off after a few weeks,

The Twins Are Still Separated

Two Mothers, Twin Daughters

Chapter Nineteen

Some folks seem to enjoy reading excerpts from the book I am writing, so I’ll update you once again.

T hree years went by, and the twins were still separated.

Margaret listened; for once the children were quiet. It seemed they had settled down nicely for their naps, the two younger ones, that is, and Davey Junior wouldn’t be released from school for another hour or so.  She reached for her Bible on the nearby nightstand and took the latest letter from Marita out from just inside the back cover. She clutched it in her hands while bowing her head in prayer.  The much read letter was already a year old so Margaret needed to carefully unfold the sharp creases to read it once more.

“Dear Margaret,

I can’t bear to tell my dear mother-in-law what we are going through so hope you can take it since I feel I would crack up if I couldn’t share with someone!

Randall’s out of work—again, has been for three months this time. In a way I am not sorry he lost this job but we are in desperate straits. He had had an epileptic fit while on scaffolding and fell. The job wasn’t waiting for him when his leg finally mended.  

Sometimes I am at my wits end to know how to respond to him.  We are hungry nearly all the time yet I know he finds enough money to spend on beer. How long must I excuse his behavior on the war? Does David sometimes seem to be unreasonable---still?

Oh, Margaret, what can I ever do? I would offer to take in babysitting but our one room suite and half bath are far too crowded to entertain extra children. Besides most of the 'Rosie the Riveter' type of women are 'back at home where they belong' as the men would say.

Thank you so much for the gift of money you slipped in your last letter.  Oh, Margaret, it’s a good thing Randall wasn’t home when the mailman arrived with the cash. I bawled buckets and Emily was all over me trying to be comforting so I explained that they were happy tears.

I  hope I can someday repay you.  I have to dole it out slowly so he won’t get suspicious and wonder where it came from. As it is I keep any little bit I have hidden because he rifles through my purse in the vain hope I’d have some money stashed away.

So far I have only bought a small bag of oatmeal and some powdered milk with the money, and oh yes, a bag of carrots because they keep for a long time in the icebox, we won’t go hungry for a while.

Emily is healthy, for which I thank the Lord. Her sweetness and innocence helps me to trust our Heavenly Father more. I have much time on my hands so often turn to Mum-in-law’s Bible in time of need. I still worry a lot and get sharp with Randall way too often, but I’m glad I have Emily and I’m glad I have God.

Lots of love, |
Marita

P.S. Sorry for being so full of myself: I really do want a long, fully detailed letter about everything that’s going on in your life and especially about Alice...of course!

P.S. 2. We are in Vancouver now, but I’m sure we will be moving soon.

Margaret refolded the letter then gently placed it back between the worn covers of the Bible.  She sat lost in thought until her burdened heart caused her to slip to her knees in prayer. She laid her head on her arm.

“It’s been so long, Lord. Marita is almost dearer to me that a flesh and blood sister might be. Please be with her. Keep her, comfort her, and help Randall to overcome his drinking habit. Thou knowest what awful memories are still gripping him, and we don’t.  Thou knowest the anxiety Marita faces: please help him to find a good job, and keep it. May Marita continue to call upon you when the floods threaten to overwhelm her—“

“Mommy, Alice spilled  milk on the floor!”

It was obvious that Sally would have gotten the milk out of the refrigerator because Alice was too young to handle the door.  Alice was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a tea towel.

“Let’s not use a tea towel to clean the floor next time, okay, Sweetie. Sally, you fetch a rag from the rag bag.”

“But she spilled it!”

“Just do as I tell you.”

 “Alice, wait for Mommy to pour your milk for you okay”— she almost called her ‘Sweetie’ again but then remembered it was too easy to favor the daughter of her troubled friend over the other two.

Margaret was thoughtful, prayerful, as she tended to her motherly duties . They walked to the corner to meet Davey and he prattled joyfully about his day at school, she served them cookies and milk but she hardly heard them.

David came home two hours later and once again Margaret was so thankful that the man she married had a steady job as a mechanic. There were still far too many veterans drifting aimlessly through life, addicted to the bottle, and not coping well with their violent past. David seemed to be so steady in comparison. 

Guiding Light

Well, I think it is about time I ‘get on with the program’ and start talking about what I had intended to in the first place. Remember when I wrote that title about Better than a Fairy Tale? I must have left some of your scratching your heads, wonder what exactly was I talking about.

It’s heartbreaking growing up in a broken home. A person is left feeling sad and lonely, knowing that you are different from the rest and no one really understands. Oh, sure you try to conform on the outside, do what others do, but when you slip up and others notice, or maybe even avoid you, you feel it keenly, probably far more keenly than those who are basically secure would ever feel.

But live goes on, and when I reached my later teens, especially, I had a deep longing to have a happy, stable home like those around me. Many were the times I would go for long walks and cry out to the One who did empathise better than any human could.

I still marvel to this day that God had such a marvelous plan for my life. (For me, that little, flawed grain of sand that seemed so insignificant in my own eyes.)

Like I said, I spent a lot of time going for walks and praying the year I turned twenty. There was a tall straight spruce tree in the corner of our yard and one evening it pointed directly to a star. It seemed to have a message, or more specifically direction, for me.

At this time, I was living with my Mom and younger siblings in a small town within easy walking distance to the senior’s home where I was employed. It was about two miles out in the country. On one of these walks, it became clear to me that I wouldn’t marry one of the local young men, not that I'm sure what the significance of that information was.

Fall eased into winter then the cool, pleasant April days were upon us once again. Since our hometown hosted one of the larger churches in our denomination we had a rather large annual meeting held there that spring. There was well over a thousand in attendance but that wasn’t too many to confuse our Heavenly Father.

 Okay, sit up straight now, because this is where things get exciting. I was standing in the hall next to the Mother’s Room, (nursery) when way on the other side of the auditorium God pointed out a young man to me and said: ‘That’s the one you are going to marry.’

‘Hold on a minute. I have no idea who he is: he could be from California for all I knew!’ And on and on, but I couldn’t dismiss that thought all that easily. God wouldn’t let me.

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Prayer of Healing

Can eight weeks of suffering disappear in one night? Nay, make that eight years, or even two-thirds of a lifetime.

Physically I was never like 'other girls' I was weaker, frailer, and had less stamina. This showed up even as a child, but it wasn't until I was in my twenties, I believe, before the dizzy spells really kicked in. I'm telling you our family doctor tried, he really tried to find the solution for many years but nothing helped.

But the years sped on with migraines, sinus headaches, and the nausea and vertigo that increased intolerably under the slightest stress.

Was I miserable? Yes: and no. God was there. And anywhere with God is a haven of comfort.

My husband had seen me suffering all these years and it became so severe that social settings were becoming intolerable. He got the idea to ask one of the pastor's in our local congregation if they could have a healing prayer for me.  They were open to the idea.

Saturday evening, April 23 has become a holy day in my heart and memories. We are a large congregation so there are two ministers (pastors) and two deacons. We met for a time of Bible reading, fellowship and praying. It was a time of sweet communion as we shared our hearts, confessing our faults one to another. Although the discomfort in my head was so bad at this time, I was willing to go through with it, to see what God could or would do.

We knelt beside our chairs with my dear friend; one of the pastor's wife's, supporting me while her husband anointed my head with oil, and prayed.

Immediately I felt a burning, but not uncomfortable feeling in the center of my forehead which lasted for about a half an hour. Was the dizziness gone? Yes. Was I able to do things what 'normal' people do after that? Absolutely.

I felt like I was treading on Holy Ground, and today which is Tuesday, the wonder, the hallowed feeling is still with me. He Touched Me. The loving Heavenly Father deemed me worthy of a gentle touch of healing and I feel like tiptoeing in His Presence, He was/ is so close.

Continuation of My Spiritual Journey

Okay, as I'm sure most of you have gathered by now, I did eventually join the Holdeman, Mennonite church. Since we are trained to to keep away from cliches like 'wasn't smooth sailing, or a 'bed of roses',  hang on for a sec while I  try to come up with something more original.

There were a few things that were making life difficult at this time. As if being a teenager wasn't problem enough, I was also suddenly thrust into a single parent home in a straight environment compared to the casual one of childhood, or the tumultuous one my father had recently adopted. I wasn't one of those laid-back whatever will-be-will be type of gals either. My sensitive nature caused intense mood swings; yup I know what depression was all about.

And Satan wanted me.

Late one night while laying wide awake on my bed an oppressive presence overpowered me, I mean literally and I felt my hands being clamped against the mattress and this leering face inches from mine. I don't know how many minutes this lasted, but it was plenty long. I remembered trying to pray but it seemed ineffectual.

The Word of God speaks of having 'power on her head because of the angels.' (1. Corinthians 11) Whether this scripture meant that the angels would be able to give me more protection if I had my head covered, or that the fallen angels had more power against me without this symbolic protection, I couldn't say, but it left me feeling defenceless against the attacks of the Evil One.

Eventually with a sadistic laugh and a few contemptuous words the presence faded yet leaving me feeling shaken for days to come. I have never had a casual take-it-or-leave-it attitude about wearing a prayer covering since.

What Can I Do?

 “Shallow, shallow, shallow,” That's what I have been muttering to myself. Sometimes I feel like we as on-line Christians are offering so little. The need is great and we are weak and small. How can we do more? How can I do more?
 I long to understand the cry of the human heart better and respond to it with more than religious platitude’s:  there are some deep, festering wounds that a band aid just won’t fix! 
I’m sure many of us long for the Holy Spirit to fill our cups to overflowing so that we have enough to share with a parched and dying world.  By, oh, those cups have to be cleansed first!
 Back to that word shallow. What have we allowed to accumulate inside our drinking vessels that are replacing the Living Water? I hardly think our Heavenly Guide will pour from His pure healing fountain into goblet s that are unclean, so what can we do in order to make sure our vessels are useable? 
First of all we must avail our self of time, God’s precious time,  and allow Him to show us what has stuck like invisible barnacles to the inside of our drinking receptacles. It sounds gross, but sin in all forms is yucky, and it needs to be removed. 
But maybe it isn’t sin per se that is keeping us from being a more effective witness; maybe it’s our humanity, our human weakness. Ah, the good Father in Heaven knows and understands, but we must reach out to Him time and time again. Let’s lift our cups (hearts) to Him early in the morning before the distractions of the day set in and let Him cleanse and fill us. 
Maybe we will never know if God has let us ‘spill’ a little blessing on someone throughout our day, but that’s okay. That’s not what really counts anyway. Let’s just make sure our cups are filled to overflowing with the pure water of life, so that if someone jostles us, or is thirsty we have something genuine to offer.


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My Appointment With the King

I serve such a wonderful king. Every morning about five thirty, I get to have an appointment with Him. The thing is I know He has millions of other subjects and billions of other concerns to attend to, but when my soft musical alarm chimes, I feel such a drawing to the throne room of Adonai.

How can it be that He makes me feel so special? How can it be that He can make me feel like I am the only one in the universe and that He loves me so much? I know every single one of you can and hopefully do feel the same way. Regardless of what time of day you send a prayer dart His way He is sure to catch it,

Make an appointment early in the morning. Don’t worry, it won’t interrupt my time. There is something about the dawning of a new day which is so…perfect for meeting with our beloved Saviour and Guide because there aren’t so many distractions, yet.

Here’s my formula, but maybe something else will be more satisfying for you.

I head to the recliner in the living room, put my feet up, and let the warmth of His presence flow over me. He feels so real, so kind and it’s a great time to thank Him for always being there. We travelled part way across Canada this summer, but He was there ever km (mile) of the way. We went to Africa last summer and lo He was still so close. How can I feel fear of anything for very long with the blessed assurance of His comforting presence?

After praising Him for a few minutes it’s time to look up a topic in our chain reference Bible or continue on a topic I had been studying other mornings. I find a verse, and invariably the surrounding verses catch my attention also. Soon I haul out the good old Matthew Henry’s commentary and more wonderful jewels are uncovered for the day.

Of course during this devotional time there is plenty of opportunity during meditation to share with the Father whatever burdens or decisions might be weighing on my mind.

I know Adonai is never in a rush, but unfortunately I have to have a different time schedule. Writing this is encroaching on my ‘sweet hour of prayer’. I want to quickly send this off so I can worship at the feet of our holy Adonai. Meet me there!

Predators

Now why did I have to dream about him?  In spite of things that happened in my childhood and teen years I haven’t been plagued by those kinds of dreams. Why now?

                There was a large glossy topped table between us but it was obvious that he was after me. I would rapidly walk a few steps then stop. So would he. He would cross his arms and give me a slightly sneering grin. I glanced around at the wood paneled walls. No windows and doors in sight, no escape route. I started moving again and so did he. This kept on for a while. I knew he was just wearing me down in his tormentingly leisurely way.

                I dropped to my knees, putting my head on my arms, and cried out to God. Then my alarm rang.  He vanished, but I was still troubled. Why did I dream about him?

                My husband had an explanation that echoed my own.

                “It was a good dream,” he said. “Because you knew where to turn, you cried out to God.” (Something like that.) “Your Dad represents evil to you.”

                But why did I dream it? Why, why? And then I knew. There are those of you that are facing situations like that. You and ‘him’ seem to be going round and round the table.  He ‘knows’ he will wear you down eventually and is gloating. But will he? Does he have to? No. Sure you have an adversary, but you also have an Advocate. Jesus is our protector and guide out of difficult situations.

                But do you have an advocate? Have you found Jesus to be a haven of rest ‘in the trying scenes of life’ as one song put it?  He doesn’t wave a magic wand and make all your troubles disappear but He will be there for you making you stronger, giving you comfort. Admit that you can’t ‘escape’ on your own. Admit that you are poor and needy in need of a Savior and commit everything to the lovingly Heavenly Father’s care. 

Take Down That Wall

Sometimes we encounter relationships that are challenging at the best of times. The world would say walk away from them but that is not God’s way. Those people whom we find difficult may very well think the problem lies with us. We must do our level best to show compassion and try to work through our differences. If we preserve in prayer God can help us take that wall down one brick at a time.

Marilyn Friesen

Get Me There On Time

George Mueller had an appointment on Friday at one o'clock, in Montreal. Problem was he was still stuck at sea, and he had been for days. The ship was locked in heavy fog and the captain wouldn't dream of trying to venture closer to land under the circumstances. He hadn't reckoned with George Mueller who claimed he had never been late for an appointment and didn't intend to start now. Well the captain tried to reason with him, all the while wondering what kind of insane person he had on board.

Are You Carrying Too Much?

Hey, did it ever occur to you that you might be doing it all wrong? Okay, I’ll correct that, maybe it’s only me that is mistaken.

Poor, Sweet Claudine

I suppose some of you might be wondering what happened to Claudine and her baby. I guess I shouldn't have put off finishing this story for so long, but it has been a bit hard to cope with. Claudine was faithful until the end. Amazingly, joyously faithful, something we can't comprehend because we have never been asked to suffer in that way. I believe her heart was broken that she was never able to see her infant again, but even I, with my limited understanding of agony know and have the assurance, that Jesus was there for her. I suppose she often wondered how little Jans was doing but perhaps he died at an early age which was so common in those days. I'm sure yearnings and prayers for her husband and children lingered in her heart at all times, but there was something more. God was giving her strength, she loved Jesus so much, and sensed her Saviour's love in return that she would have gone singing to her death if they wouldn't have gagged her. Well, she's gone to her reward now, and that is no idle platitude and perhaps I will someday get to know her on the Other Side.

www.maryamsdiary.webs.com

The Glass Castle Series

The Glass Castle Series

In this series the church is represented as a castle somewhat reminiscent of Medieval times. For more of the story check the accompanying pages.

In the lookout tower on the Castle of Love, one of the watchmen held the high powered binoculars to his eyes and slowly scanned the desert waste that spread out before him right to the distant horizon.

“Do you see any activity?” The young soldier at his side asked.

The watchman handed the binoculars over to him and pointed. “See that little group at just slightly less than one-oh-five? They seem to be wearying of the way.”
                “Shall I send a dart? One of Agape's darts?”

The watchman shook his head. “No, not yet; hook up the sound waves and we will see if we can catch what they are saying.”

                “Sir?”

                The watchman was intently scanning the desert once again. He looked over the glasses. “Yes?”

                “I recorded the conversation. It is rather faint and staticy in places, but see what you think of it.”

                The watchman adjusted the earphones and turned up the volume, and this is what he made out.

                “Look, everyone, I think there is a castle over yonder.”

                “Sorry, Fiona. That’s just a mirage. There are no castles in these parts.”

                “But what if it was. Just what if! Then we could find rest and shelter.”

                The watchman whipped off the earphones, eyes shining; “Shoot a dart, shoot one of Cupid’s darts,” He cried, “But aim true!”

                Daniel’s hand trembled as he shot not once, not twice but three times! Others crowded around and watched in breathless suspense as the darts glistened and soared in the dry summer’s heat.

                One dart had hit its mark; Fiona’s breast. They exuberantly clapped each other on the back while Daniel snatched up the earphones and someone else the binoculars.

                Fiona’s hand pressed against her chest. “I felt such a warmth come over me when I spoke of that castle, just now. Kelsey, let’s try to find it. Maybe it is a true haven. It looks so beautiful as if the light diffuses from within.”

                Kelsey picked up another dart; it still had a slight glow and was warm to the touch.

                “You maybe are right. I also am weary of this desert land.” But he hesitated, and then threw the dart down. The others had already started to walk on ahead.

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                Daniel whirled to face his Captain. “May I go? May I rush over there and lead them to safety?”

   The Captain was pleased with the youthful enthusiasm. “Go, lad, but remember to use much tact and discretion. They are used to their old ways and may not be eager to change. ”

                The other young recruits leaned over the balustrade surrounding the tower and watched him march swiftly through the gathering darkness, his trusty lamp held high as he traveled.

                 “It’s dangerous out there,” Simon observed.

                “Yes, but he is following instructions, and not going out on his own,” James reminded him.

                Simon nodded as they watched the tiny prick of light grow smaller then leap high when Daniel reached the small group who were sitting on boulders and eating their lunch.

                “May the King bless his efforts,” The watchman murmured with moist eyes, while the others nodded in agreement.