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!

Agape's Darts

Agape’s Dart

(An allegory of the church)

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 problems,” the young soldier at his side asked

“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 to the Computer-Gadget and we will see if will understand what they are saying.”

            “Sir?”

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

“I recorded the conversation as a video. It’s rather faint because of static, but let me know what you think of it.”

The watchman adjusted the earphones and turned up the volume; this is what he made out:

“Look, everyone, I see 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 Agape’s darts,” he cried, “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 hit the mark: Fiona’s breast. The watching soldiers exuberantly clapped each other on the back while Daniel snatched up the ear phones 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. Erik let’s try to find it. Maybe it is a true haven. It looks so beautiful as if the light diffuses from within.”

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

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

            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 will not be eager to change. ”

            The other young recruits leaned over the balustrade surrounding the tower and watched through their binoculars as he marched 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 group who now 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.

While Daniel is valiantly making his way across rugged territory to find the wanderers, we will take a peek in on some unhappy campers who chose a basement suite in the glorious Castle of Light.

Ezekiel: 34: 11, 12, 16

Luke 15

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.

Three 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 DaveJuniorur wouldn’t be released from school for another hour or so.  She reached for her Bible on the nearby night stand and took the latest letter from Marita out from just inside the back cover and clutched it in her hands while bowing her head in prayer.  The much read letter was already a year old so Margaret carefully unfolded 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 but 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. 

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 comfort me so I tried to tell her 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 have to hide it 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.  (Sorry if I sound selfish.)

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, Emily spilled the milk on the floor!”

It was obvious that Sally would have gotten the milk out of the refrigerator because Emily was too young to handle the door.  Emily was on her hands and knees scrubbing at 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.”

 “Emily, 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, but she hardly heard him.

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. 

Are You Intimidated?

Are You Intimidated?

Do you ever feel like kids are brats, and that’s not in the old-fashioned way when brat simply meant child?

Helen Keller was a classic example of a brat, but the most grudging among us would have to admit she had reason to be. She wasn’t born deaf and blind, but got that way from some sort of disease at the age of two.

At first Helen managed quite well. She had a little playmate, the cook’s daughter, who was two or three years older than her. This little girl was quite keen in catching the signals that indicated what Helen wanted to do.

Once when the girls were weary of cutting out paper dolls from a catalogue, Helen got the idea of snipping off Martha Washington’s tight little curls which were tied with string. Well, Martha wanted to return the ‘favor’ but after one long, gold strand was severed, Mama came to the rescue and put a stop to the beauty salon business.

As Helen grew older, her horizons widened, or rather she sensed they should be, but her handicaps were limiting her, and that made her increasingly frustrated. Her temper tantrums were getting so fierce and frequent that her parents were desperate to find help.

That’s when Anne Sullivan came on the scene. She was a young, trained teacher who took on the challenge of teaching an unloving, practically unlovable youngster.

Long before Helen would properly respond to love, Anne traced the letters I L O V E Y O U on her hand.

Is there a child in your life who is a challenge? Jesus can give you a deep, deep compassion for him or her, and more than that the inspiration and courage to make a difference that can last forever.

Please, whether you are a teacher, preacher, parent or some other relative or friend, look at that child through new eyes.  They need you to lead them out of their own maze of ‘deafness and blindness’ so they, too,  can become the treasure God created them to be. 

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!

How Worthwhile Are We?

I heard a statement that had a profound impact on me. A man from Burkina Faso made it.  

    “If a senior dies it is like a whole library has been destroyed.”

 Many of us are seniors, but are we wise? Are we compassionate and understanding?  How are we filling in the dash between our cradles and the grave? Perhaps you know I am referring to how a gravestone has the date of someone’s birth, a dash, and then the date they passed from this world.

The Bible teaches us that the older women should teach the younger, (Titus 2.4) surely we must have accumulated something worthwhile in our life experiences. Do we have the humility and kindness to help those behind us who are floundering? We all have different ways we can do it.

Are we writing books’ of value with our lives? ‘Only one life will soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.’

Let us pray for each other. 

Silly White Stuff

“Isn’t it ridiculous picking up this silly white stuff day after day?”

“Shh, you had better be careful what you say. God sent it. Would you rather be eating… eating, well who knows what and dying of thirst like our forefathers practically did before Moses struck the Rock?”

“Yes,” a younger voice piped up, “And he sure got in trouble for doing that. Now he won’t be able to go into the Promised Land.”

“Promised Land,” the first one scoffed. “We’ve been wandering in this desert for nearly twenty years already. Why, you and I and everyone else our age was born after they were shut out of that so called Promised Land.” Dinah huffed as she swung a big basket over her arm. “I’m getting a weeks’ supply of that manna. I’m sick and tired of gathering it every single day just because Mama is so sickly all the time.”

“Go ahead,” her friend Lilka scoffed, “You know what Moses warned us would happen. I’ve heard rumors it has already  in some other areas of ‘tent city’.

Twenty four hours passed. Same time same station as it were, the only difference was facial expressions, mostly, and of course the conversation had changed.

Dinah looked so sullen, or was it subdued, that Lilka and Josiah didn’t dare say a word to her.  They had observed her, from a distance mind you, trying to dispose of a whole week’s supply of moldy wormy manna and trying unsuccessfully not to throw up over the whole repulsive mess.

Dinah learned her lesson, have we to? God simply does not want us to gather too many worries for example. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Some might wonder if I sit down at the beginning of every month and map out the topics I will be writing about for the next thirty days.

“ Nope, not a chance.”

“ Well, for the next week then?”

“ Uh uh.  Why bother, I want my manna (which comes from Heaven) fresh and new.” Give us our day our daily bread.  

Where Have I Been??!!

 Help! Where have I been?? I've been feeling like my tires were

spinning in a mud hole while  the tools I needed were in my trunk all along.  So what tools you ask? 

Veronica 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

He said, "I Don't Believe in God,anymore."

My dear friend,

You declared recently that you don’t believe in God, anymore.

SO THIS IS ME...

I live and breathe writing, but not just any kind. Penetrating the darkness seems to be a pet theme, or phrase with me. This world is so full of shadows that come in many different shapes and forms. You know what the chains that want to tighten you are, whether they are poverty, fear, pain, heartache in its many kinds, or something else. I have given my life to bringing a ray of light into this dark and hurting world.

Another thought I like is this description of a glowing candle.  It is warm and beckoning with just enough of a glow to be deeply appreciated, but not so much that you feel unhappy with the glare or the heat.

Come in and help yourself to a candle.

Lovingly, Marilyn

P.S. I’m not a very conspicuous person: auburn haired, round faced, smiley with gentle eyes and what you might call an old fashioned grandmotherly look.  Because we like people so much we have a bed and breakfast. If you want to visit us you can find it under the listings for air bnb (bed and breakfast) Alberta.