Settling in to Stay?

Three days later Margaret pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. Is this the day they would finally, finally, find a place that was suitable to live in? Even kindhearted Madena was getting flustered with the children tearing in and out of the tiny quarters all day long and Margaret knew that Teo and David escaped outside as much as possible. The first place was too far up the mountain since they could only use 'Shank's pony' as David called walking; the next one too shabby and so on. Just then David poked his head in the door letting in a refreshing glimpse of blue sky and cheery sunshine. He had returned from the General Store with Teo. “I heard about a place you might like. Wanna come look?” Margaret dried her hands on her apron. “Okay.” She didn't very much enjoy clambering down the mountain but climbing up was much harder. Margaret's eyes widened in delighted surprise when she took in the small but roomy chalet on a tree-lined side street. Yes! This could work, it really could. It felt like home already. When they took the train to the city to finish the deal, they had other important shopping to do. Like going to a second-hand furniture store. “Mother,” Sally wailed. “Not these chairs! Why one of them has paint splatters!” “Nothing that a little paint couldn't cover,” Margaret responded comfortably. “Then they can be the colour we want, not what someone else chose.” However, it was Margaret who felt consternation about the next purchase. The wringer washing machine David was paying for leaked: “Just a little, just a little” according to the salesman but Margaret was worried. Does David know how to fix appliances? Will he have time? It was Alice who voiced her opinion about the only armchair they could find. “This chair is too hard!” she squeaked in a Goldilocks-style of voice. “Not hard,” Sally groused. “Lumpy.” “I've always wanted to try my hand at reupholstering a chair,” Margaret said. The first time Margaret filled the washing machine, she was counting her blessings that the scrub board could be put away; until she turned it on. “David!” She called, “David, come quickly!” David had been hanging up the clothesline, but when he hurried in, he landed on his backside. The whole kitchen was flooded with water!

Although Margaret commiserated with him, she was secretly glad it happened when he was at home. Otherwise, repairs mightn't have seemed so urgent. Yes, David's mechanical skills came in handy and by nightfall, she was able to put the first load of soggy laundry through the wringer. Using the line would have to wait until morning which reminded her of another day years before when she was hanging nappies and tiny garments on a line strung across an apartment roof. My, the babies have grown. Margaret liked to reach the little cabin on the mountain by ten-thirty in the morning whenever possible, Now that the children were in school it was easier to get her own housekeeping done and off sooner than formerly. She was finding that the stiff climb in the fresh air was doing her much good. Today Teo met her at the door without his usual friendly smile and motioned her to follow him towards the large oak tree. “My wife, she is not doing so well, She fell during the night and I think caring for Rich-ard is getting too much for her.” Margaret nodded. Why hadn't they seen it coming? He looked down and Margaret sensed it was hard for him to continue. She wanted to place her hand on his shoulder but couldn't get herself to. “She is getting so forgetful, yes? Today she was going to spoon coffee into, into the lad instead of broth.” “We will try to move him as soon as possible.” Alice would have to move in with Sally. Sally would not like that. She was so glad for a room of her own. Or should he move in with Davy? We'll have to discuss it later. She followed Teo back in to help where ever she could. Teo and Madena had quickly become like dearly beloved grandparents, so the Seifert’ frequently stopped in to help them. Margaret would often bring a pot of savoury soup, fresh buns, gingerbread or just check to see how they were doing. It wasn't long before David started training as a mountain guide ‘to keep himself busy’ he claimed, until they knew if Richard could be moved or not. Margaret had never seen David so energized; so full of life, as he became after his tour book began to fill up. Margaret didn't talk too much about it, but it looked like the Seifert were settling in for a long stay in Switzerland which dimmed the chances of the girls ever getting together.

Falling Rocks

When you drop a stone into the water, it disappears, right? No matter if it was a grain of sand or a diamond it sinks and sinks never to be seen again. Kind of discouraging, I'd say. Especially with the diamond. Maybe it seems the same way when we try to reach out in kindness to others. We want to be a Christian witness, we want others to know the joy our salvation brings so we smile at strangers, listen to their stories and go on our way. Did it do any good? The deed sank like a rock. But wait, look at those ripples, they are spreading out so far. What does that mean? The one poem says 'down a long eternity'. Can our random acts of kindness make a difference in someone's life forever? I sure hope so, and let's keep praying that someone will be drawn to Christ and reach Heaven because of our simple, easily forgotten (by us) gestures.

I Can't Die! I Won't Die!

I hope you have the time or will take the time to read this to the very end because it has a surprise ending.  I do not know the name of the main character in this true story, so for simplicity sake will call her Melissa. Melissa was like many of us in that she went to church and enjoyed the social and spiritual aspects of it, but she didn't think the Bible needed to be taken literally when it spoke of being separate from the world in word and action.  1John 2: 15-17,  Romans 12:2. https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/She would occasionally make fun of more conservative Christians and went on her merry way. Although she endured a slow and lingering death, cancer perhaps, she rejoiced in the assurance of being swept up to Heaven immediately after departing this life.

Now I will quote directly from this ancient book Dying Testimonies of Saved and Unsaved: https://www.amazon.com/Dying-Testimonies-Saved-Unsaved-Shaw/dp/1933304324
"respiration grew shorter and shorter and at last ceased and they deemed the spirit already in the embrace of blissful messengers who were winging it to paradise. A fearful shriek! and in a moment they beheld her that they had looked upon as the departed sitting upright before them with every feature distorted.
"Horror and disappointment had transformed that placid countenance so that it exhibited an expression indescribable fiendish. "I can't die," she shrieked, "I won't die!"

Her pastor walked in just then and she screamed, "Out of the door, thou deceiver of men!"
Then died.
Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven. Matthew 7:21https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/

A Disturbing Story Becomes a Favourite

 You've got to picture the background to understand what this woman was up against.  The Jews were God's Chosen People and they knew it. Most likely the neighbouring 'gentiles' were quite aware of this opinion also. But mother-love surpasses even racial barriers if the mother is desperate enough. This mom sure was. This Canaanite Woman knew Jesus was a teacher and a healer, she probably assumed He was in their country to preach to the Jews living among them but she didn't care. Her daughter was sick, really sick because of a demon that was causing terrific suffering. Jesus could deliver her, she knew it, so she pleads with Him to do so. www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com
Now here comes the puzzling part, not only did Jesus not do it, but He ignored her and later implied that she was a dog. (Probably a common racial slur at the time.)

Why did she persist? Because she saw something the disciples didn't. She saw the love in His eyes, and He saw her faith. He saw a tremendous opportunity to teach those hoity-toity Jews that God loved everyone. So why did she run off to beg the disciples to do something? Maybe she figured Jesus thought it would jeopardize His position if He healed her daughter so out of respect tried to give Him a break. But they weren't helpful so Jesus honoured her request--and her faith. I love it!

Mother

Do the Twins Miss Each Other?

Excerpt from the Upcoming book Emily and Alice Margaret lifted anxious eyes to the sky. Lord, what am I supposed to do, she cried inwardly. The sky looked innocent enough, a few cottony clouds floating by; they weren’t the cause of her turmoil. She wrung her hands in anguish then realized they were still stuck into her slightly shabby gardening gloves. With a sigh, Margaret dropped to her knees in the handkerchief-sized garden behind the tall Victorian style apartment and dug out a thistle. Her mind wasn’t on what she was doing. Soon the children would be home from school and she must be composed before then. But how could she be? She had been having a peaceful morning with her -turned-six year old but all changed. Alice had been chattering away about what they would do when David and Sally came home from school ‘for good’ and the holidays began in a few days. Margaret knew most of it was fanciful thinking but she liked listening to the lively little girl’s chatter, who wasn’t really her daughter but fostered. The happy mood continued over the noon hour. Alice didn’t protest being told to rest for a little while since they had walked earlier to the shops in downtown Halifax. It was after her nap the trouble started. “Mommy,” she called, “I had a dream.” A dream? a dream? Not one was funny or interesting or scary? Margaret went into the storage area, turned bedroom and pulled the shade up. The sunlight streamed across the rumpled bunk, single at the top and twinned at the bottom. Alice’s beautiful blue eyes drifted shut then she opened them again. “I dreamed I had a twin,” She stifled a yawn then sat up. Margaret’s heart clenched and she sat down beside the precious girl, reaching for her hand. “Care to tell me about it?” Alice leaned her head against her shoulder. “She was small, like me, and had red hair like me, but it wasn’t in curls like mine. She had two long braids. They f’opped over her shoulders an’ she got no bangs.” “You mean she didn’t get hurt?” Alice shook her head and touched her forehead. “No bangs like me,” she explained. Margaret felt the colour drain from her face. “Anything else?” “I was looking in a store window and she looked back at me.” Margaret was about to say it was her reflection but Alice wasn’t done. “She looked like me. She looked sad, we both did.” “ Why do you think you were sad?” Alice shrugged. “ I guess ‘cuz we didn’t know we were so close. Even our dresses were the same, “ Alice continued. “They were like my first day of school dress.” She bit her lip. “I think you called it a gingham. The green one.” Margaret swallowed but made herself respond. “’That’s interesting. Did you like dream?” Alice shrugged her shoulders. “Kinda. But kinda not.” “Why not?” Alice gazed into her mother’s warm brown eyes. “When I waked up I felt like crying. ” She flung her arms around her mother. “Mummy, I wish I had a twin!” Margaret stroked her daughters’ long, curly hair. “I think a lot of little girls dream of having a twin. I wanted a sister, badly, when I was a little tyke.” “But dream Mummy,” she looked up at her Mother again, “Like in sleep-time dream?” “That is strange, “ Margaret murmured, “Very strange.” As she twisted one of Alice’s shiny curls around her finger, there was a faraway look in her eyes, her cheeks were pale. Alice lay her head back on the pillow murmuring “I’m still sleepy, Mommy,” so Margaret tucked a light throw over her and said she would be in the garden. That was fifteen minutes ago and Margaret still wasn’t in control of her emotions. Deep down she knew why. With every passing month, no, week even, she felt condemned for not encouraging Marita to break the wall of silence between herself and Randall. Many times she had taken out paper and pen to write 'you must tell your husband Emily is a twin, you must get your daughter back,' but it was too hard, she couldn’t bear to let Alice go, and she knew the rest of the family would be devastated also. Davy had been tossing the ball up in the air on the way home from school and catching it with his gloved hand until he caught sight of Margaret with a watering can. She was sprinkling their elderly landlady’s petunia-lined walk. “Hi,

Mom.” “Hi Davy, how’s my boy?” “Fine.” I guess.” Oh, no, Mom’s been crying. I wonder what happened. “Can I have a peanut butter sandwich?” “Of course, son. “I meant to make some peanut butter cookies since I know you love them so much but it didn’t get done.” “’That's okay,” Davy muffled so low he doubted Margaret heard him. He kicked at a pebble on the cement sidewalk then glanced once more at his mother before turning the corner of the house and pounding up the stairs. “Davy, you scared me!” Alice’s giggle floated through the open kitchen window as Margaret put the trowel and watering can away. She was about to join her children in their hot, stuffy apartment but old Mrs Bentley poked her head out the back door and invited her in for a cup of tea, she couldn’t say no.

Sharing the Good News

Are you the kind that enjoys handing out tracts? Some don’t. I suppose there are various reasons for objecting, and I’m not inclined to hand them out indiscriminately. That’s just not me. I far prefer the personal touch. Like tonight, for instance, we were sitting in a restaurant when my husband got to chatting with the waitress about the cross on her necklace. Good enough place to start, right? Fleetingly a troubled looked crossed her face when Stephen asked if she was a Christian. From what she told us it sounded like she had tried to be one, once, but her family wasn’t at all ‘into that sort of thing’.

Well, what do you tell a young girl in the few minutes of time allotted to you? I told her that Jesus was not only a Saviour but a Friend who wants to guide her through life. But how much did she know? In the busyness of life that brief thought could be like a leaf caught in an eddy and soon lodged far away in the back of her mind. That’s when I looked into my purse and lo and behold I found one tract in there. Search For God, How Can I Find Him. Perfect! And the perfect opportunity to give it to her also came up. Did she turn up her nose and act insulted when I offered it to her? No way! She snatched it eagerly and carefully put it in a safe place. This isn’t a one- time type of experience for me—for us. We have often found that people are happy to receive one of those little messages from God if we chat with them first. We are so fortunate—so blessed, and long to share the wonderful gift of salvation. I’m sure you do too. Try handing out a tract next time you have a nice, little visit with a stranger. It is so heartwarming. But don’t forget to pray for them, also. P.S. Do YOU know what the Good News Is?

A New Kind of Puppy Love

Because we as adults are so prone

What's Wrong With Mommy?

Emily had no way of knowing what was making her mother so unhappy but she was worried. As the six-year-old

girl trotted along the empty tracks beside her Grandpa she wasn’t prattling in her usual happy way and Ben’s brow furrowed. How can I get her to not think about the tension in the home?

He had never seen Marita so close to hysteria before. Something was definitely on her mind and Randall, his son and Marita’s husband was determined to get it out of her. Ben’s frown deepened. Could any good come out of the confrontation?

Ben had whisked the little girl out of the house before the showdown occurred but not soon enough to avert his granddaughter’s puzzling questions.

“There’s nothing to worry about, “ he said taking her hand. “Look! There’s a little bird. What do you think it is?”

“A robin,” she responded, barely glancing at it. She picked up a lump of coal had fallen out of a train car and rolled it between her hands.

As they trudged along, Ben racked his brains for a way to cheer the youngster. He wondered how far they would have to go before daring to turn back.

Emily’s face lighted as she skipped over to the shining rail, and teetered on top of it.

“Hold my hand, Gran’pa. I want to walk on it.”

Ben inwardly groaned. That’s a job for her mother to do.

Evidently, she doesn’t think I’m doing a good enough job, he thought a moment later, as she hopped off to gather some black-eyed Susan’s and purple asters.

“Let’s give these to Mommy.  That’ll make her happy.” Soon an eagle high in the sky saw two small figures trudging down a long railway.

Nothing Could Go Wrong...Right?

Babysitting for a few hours, why that's a piece of cake, I've done it lots of times. Nothing could go wrong...unless you have a two-year-old who tries to (fortunately) ineffectively cut everything in sight. Or maybe the same little gal wants to use the seam ripper to pierce the clear table liner. No big deal, right? Or what if she and her brother get hold of the pepper grinder, pry the lid off and shake pepper on the floor and on their tongues. (Yes, that's why they were fanning their mouths and begging 'Grandma Lynn' for a drink.

Nothing too hysterical, yet, right, but what about the little guy who manages to burn his finger on the sewing machine light bulb while the babysitter, that's me! is preparing to fix his pants. He will not stop whimpering even with the tenderest of care. Little sister was patting the chair and begging him to sit down beside her, and 'Grandma' was trying her own doctoring skills but with the same success. So what was the problem? Why the tears over a tiny burn? He wanted me to 'kill' the blister

Yes, today was a piece of cake, and it didn't even crumble much.

Based on a True Story

“What do I care if they are hungry?” Comrade Snezhana scoffed.  “We’ve put up with them all day long, and are taking a well-deserved break.”
Lyosha could hear whimpering down the long halls in the orphanage and it made her feel uncomfortable. She knew how little the children had to eat today, and it wasn’t any better yesterday, or last week either.

A half-hour later Comrade Roksana handed her a glass of wine to go with the expensive white chocolates that were topping off the meal but she felt too full or was it sick, to take another bite.
A toddler’s fretful whimpers were turning into lusty wails. Lyosha knew she should go comfort Klava before Comrade Snezhana strode over there and started slapping her around. But Lyosha didn’t dare. She knew she had the reputation of spoiling the ‘brats’ and didn’t have the nerve to make a scene in front of the other comrades including hardened officers who were partying with them.

I suppose you are horrified that something like this really did happen in Russia during the war. Why is it that we can sympathize with physical needs and want to do something, yet hardly hear the hidden cry of our or their hearts?
How many children, young people, and others are starving spiritually while those of us that should be helping are feasting on what the world has to offer and barely take enough spiritual manna to keep our own souls alive?
When’s the last time we have had a truly satisfying hour of studying the Bible? When is the last time we fasted, not to be seen of men, but because we had such a deep longing to pray, that food or earthly pleasures just didn’t seem important? I fall so far short but pray that I can do better!

What Do the You Have to Offer?

Don’t be ashamed of your past, don’t be ashamed because your skin is darker than mine—I’m not white either, but peaches and cream!

               The white race should collectively hang their heads if they think they are superior. We are historically known for being assertive and materialist, for getting things done, but is that really what counts?

               You have traditions, gentler customs than we are known for, and it brings tears to my eyes and I’m not the weepy type. Some of you come from cultures that deeply respect your elders, may God bless you.  When so many from the same area are sweet and mannerly, I know it’s more than just a coincidence.

               Okay, it’s time to get more specific. I was reading Chicken Soup for the Mother’s Soul Book 2 just now and these Native American’s girls had the custom of spending one day alone, each month, during their menstrual cycle to contemplate on what kind of person they wanted to become. Was that part of your lineage? Just imagine the quality of character that could develop from taking the time to prayerfully meditate beginning in your formative years and continuing throughout life.

               Now, let’s go way across the ocean, to the other side of the world, and learn about a different group of women. These wonderful African ladies obviously valued children highly: well before the child was born, even before conception had taken place, they would go off alone to listen to the song of the infant they hoped to carry.  All throughout the pregnancy, they will sing this song, and teaches it to the old women and midwives in the village. At birth, the child is greeted by ‘their’ song and soon all the village learns it so that at every high point, or time of distress, it is being sung to the growing child and later adult.

Doesn’t that sound so peaceful and loving? Doesn’t it seem like a beautiful way to knit family members, a village, together? I only wish I knew more details about these wonderful people, where they came from, what their names were, and so on.

               Lift up your heads, you ‘colored’ people, you have so much to offer! (And don’t forget we are actually more colored than you. We blush with embarrassment; turn green with envy, blue with cold, pale with shock, you name it!)

If you like this author how about checking her website: www.marilynshistoricalbooks.com

If The Missions Impossible, What Can I Do?

Andy looked towards the top of the mountain but couldn’t see it. You see he was only an ant, but he had a job to do, he hoisted his backpack and started crawling… and crawling. It was impossible to see the path through the maze of grass, gravel, fallen leaves and other obstacles but he must get to the top. Every day for as long as he could remember he had been traveling upward, and much of the time the trip was exceedingly difficult. He was lost, Andy knew it; he hadn’t been able to find the trail for days, but knew it must be there somewhere. Surely, if he kept climbing in the right general direction he would get there; after all, he was climbing upwards.

Andy was exhausted. The sun was beating mercilessly on his head, had been for hours now, and the load was getting heavier by the minute. Could things get any worse? They could. Other ants were making their way back, tired and discouraged.

“It’s not enough,” they lamented, “You’ll have to hurry, our little anthills of good deeds are not enough to appease the Creator.

“What about those who have been martyrs: their piles are made up the pain they have suffered, are their offerings more acceptable?”

The only one not too weary to respond shook his head. “All of our offerings look pitiful; I don’t know why we try.”  At that, the other insects hissed angrily and there was such a clamor of protests that Andy crawled away to find shelter under a leaf.

He wondered for a long time what he should do if they toiled all day and long into the night yet their efforts weren’t satisfactory.  At length, he fell asleep.

“Andrew! Andrew!”

Andy stirred and opened his eyes but saw no one. There was a soft glow off to one side so focused on it.

“You are not an ant, but a man,” the melodious voice continued. “The one you call your master has convinced you that you are worthless, of no more significance that a lowly insect, but that is not so.

“Come let me take your burden, and as you share your worries with me, you will find the weight shrinking and you, yourself, will grow into the person you were meant to be.”

Andy turned over and went back to sleep, but in the morning the vision had not left him.

“I don’t know who you are, Sir,” he whispered into the air, but could you come and help me carry my weight?”

Immediately he felt his chest expand as if he could breathe easier and he was able to walk faster.

As the days went by, he found himself sharing more of the load with the unseen Comforter. Other ants looked up at him, puzzled, he was changing, growing, but not in a fearsome way. His face took on more human characteristics, such as kindliness and joy. Every time he helped someone with their troubles, he grew.

One day he shed the mold that was cramping him and was able to gaze into the eyes of his new Master.

Thank you for loving me enough to set me free,” he whispered.

The other ants still clamored around him, belittling him, accusing and distracting him, but he had a new Master.

That made such a difference.

If you want to choose a meaningful book you can keep and reach for time and time again, check out this website:

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

What Really Matters

I made myself a new friend. Ah me, what a dream, I haven’t even met her! Let’s start again; I wish I could have her for a dear friend. Everyone applauds her for her sewing ability and no doubt, it was wonderful, but I don’t think that is the reason people cried when she died suddenly. Would you weep just because someone who made you a garment passed away? I think not. Would you if you were desperately poor, and it was the only decent thing you had to wear? I doubt it, after all, a brand new, possibly heavy, homespun garment would last quite a while, and even if it didn’t, that isn’t what you would remember her by.

               Really? So what was? Dorcas was one special woman. Her heart was overflowing with love. These were poverty-stricken widows and others to whom she ministered. Widows, get that? Wives’ and mothers whose husbands’, the father to their children, had died, possibly drowned at sea because Joppa was a seacoast town. They were heartbroken, lonesome and she cared.

Sure, they showed anyone interested the tangible evidence of how kind she was to them, but that wasn’t the most important part.

Here was someone that loved them, shared their suffering and when she died they couldn’t bear to let her go.

               I guess Peter couldn’t either, because when he was summoned from a nearby town, he dropped everything he was doing, and came.

               It was a tremendous miracle when Dorcas rose from the dead and many became Christians because of it, but let’s not remember her for doing acts of mercy, but for showing compassion.

               Hey, Dorcas, may I get to know you in Heaven and be your friend, there?

Give It Back!

RECALL!! Did you order a copy of Two Mothers, Twin Daughters and find that some chapters had been duplicated? If this is your experience please send the copy to me and I will replace it free of charge. (Meet me on Hangouts for my address.)

Two mothers fleeing the British Isles during World War Two. Why does one worry about being a war bride, while the other one, who is married to a widower, seem more content? Why does Grace, the younger one, give one, but only one of her twin daughters away? Why was Grace's husband sent home from the war? What will it be like leaving a city in England while bombs are exploding and submarines lurking, to settle in a Canadian wilderness? What will happen to the identical twins? How will they cope if, or rather when, they find out they have been separated as newborns? 

Book One of the Grace's Dilemma Series.

Check back from time to time and you will find out when the revised version is ready. Yes, it will be better than ever.

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

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

Disembodied Voice

I woke up abruptly at 4:28 this morning. Someone said “Mom, hey, Mom “clear enough to get me up and look out our bedroom door. We have a daughter who had moved back home so I thought it might be her, but no, no one was at the door. I even checked where she sleeps, but all was quiet and dark in her bedroom, and she later told me it wasn’t her.
Was it you? Did you call out last night? Did you need something or someone? Was/ is your heart aching, or sadder yet, breaking, perhaps because of some terrible turn of events in your life?
Something nudged me awake. Someone called out in anguish, perhaps unknowingly, but God let me hear the message. I just want to let you know you have been in my heart and prayers ever since.
Call if you need someone to talk to.
echoingheartbeats@gmail.com
Or hangouts.

P.S. There is a remarkable, but sad ending to this story. After I posted it someone from half a world away read it and messaged me on hangouts. Yes, it was she who had called out to me. She was in the throes of childbirth, and I walked her through the process. After a bit, she said there was a huge pool of blood on the floor, and she was all alone.When she said "I see God's light and you are in it" I figured she would soon die.Later she said she had a boy, the next two texts were gibberish, then nothing.  I was later informed by someone that she had died and I hope the baby did too because the males are used for sacrifices or trained to become 'masters' themselves.
 P.S. She was eleven years old and in a sex slave commune that I had been in contact with only through Google.  These girls are often in my prayers, but how can we help them? I found out the HARD way that the local police are in cahoots with the 'slave masters'.  This postscript was added months later and I still feel deeply, and pray for 'my' girls. Unfortunately, the contact has been broken.

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Angelic A, B, C's.

Don't Come Into My Heart, Lord Jesus

Faced a difficult situation last night. You know what that's like.Someone we love dearly had gotten offended at us and I felt helpless to heal the breach. What, oh what could be done to remedy the situation? With tears and a breaking heart I told my husband it felt like love just wasn't enough when you're raising children. Then they asked us over. It was a tentative step forward on their part, and oh I hated the thought of messing things up by saying or doing the wrong thing. That's when it came to me that I didn't want Jesus in my heart because it was so scrawny and mean and narrow but I wanted to be in His heart so that His love could flow uninhibited right through me.

Please pray for me, for us. 

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Surely Not!

“He’s such a no-it-all!”

“He’s always thought he was better than us.”

As Jesus walked towards His childhood home he had been hungry, enthused to lay aside his tools for the day and enjoy a good supper. The aromas had assailed him as he strode towards the house. Now his appetite left Him. Jesus instinctively knew they were talking about him again.

Jesus thought briefly of turning back and not eating, but no, that would be cowardly, and His mother would get upset.

With a barely suppressed sigh, he entered the cottage.

James glowered at Him. “Well, you took long enough. The lentils are getting cold, why do we always have to wait for you?”

               “Ya,” Simon chimed in, “You think you are so important that we all can wait.”

               Jesus could have told them that wizened, old Aaron ben Yosef, who was getting forgetful, had wandered away from his home and was frightened. Jesus had taken him back to his son’s place even though it was across town.  It had taken much longer than expected because Aaron was distracted so easily.

Why tell them? They weren’t interested anyway.

               Even Mary looked unhappy as she thumped His bowl of lentil soup on the table in front of Him.

It was his duty as the eldest Son to lead n prayer now that their father had passed on.

He paused, trying to corral his troubled thoughts.

               Simon's head jerked up. “Well?”

               Jesus smiled gently at his brothers then turned to the next in age.

               “James, why don’t you pray today?”

               James’ eyes widened then he quickly mumbled a, a something, they assumed it was a prayer before reaching across the table for the bread.

               Only his little sister, Lydia, looked at him with loving concern. Jesus knew she still adored him, but when the meal was over, he didn’t have the heart to play with her when the others were so unhappy with him.

               Instead of sitting in the house after the meal and reading the Torah as Jesus had originally planned, Jesus took a long walk through the arid countryside and poured out his heart to His Heavenly Father.

biblehub.com/john/7-5.htm

biblehub.com/hebrews/4-15.htm

www.ebooks.com    (Marilyn Friesen)

George Beverly Shea - Ivory Palaces ( 1962 )