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?

What Are Your Favorite Words?

Home: what a beautiful word. I have been thinking about it a lot lately and it brings a smile to my lips, a warm glow in my heart.

Home Sweet Home, a place where family and friends gather and there is harmony, joy, and peace.

Or isn’t there?  Maybe that’s just a dream or wistful thinking for you? It has been for me too, far too often. 

I remember well the heartache that raising a family can bring: the stress, the turmoil, the fighting, and yes even disrespect.

Oh, why do people talk about home, sweet home? Is it even possible this side of Heaven for those of us who had less than perfect role models?

What do you think? Can you embrace the thought with no reserve?

I’ve found the answer: since Jesus has found a home in my heart there can be love, joy, and peace in spite of storms all around. It seems like such a little thing but it isn’t.  The Light of the world is Jesus and when that light is in our hearts it will automatically be in our homes and create a balm of joy to those around us.

Sound too idealistic? Maybe it’s time to find that secret place of prayer and surrender today’s problems to Him who is the perfect Homemaker. Too busy? Lock the bathroom door and throw your burden into your Savior’s arms. Hey, no strings attached. Let go of it completely, yes completely and march away.

You may or may not notice a difference right away, but if you give Jesus a chance to help you, peace, joy and love will be restored to your little haven and soon you to will be murmuring “Home, Sweet  Home.”

P.S. Don’t give up too soon. Keep or trying, praying, trusting, and remember our Father is the best role model and He loves homes!

P.S. What works for you when you're all stressed out? I told you what I like to do, so now it's your turn! : )

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

Healing Love

There is magic in the tenderness

Of a love that sweetly heals
Like a caressing touch it's beauty
O'er my trembling spirit steals.

When my soul lies bruised and crying
Torn by the lash of sin
Love's healing touch is like a balm
That soothes the pain within.

Like the sunlight bursting from the sky
Melting the cold, cold snow,
So healing love's pure magic
Dispels my pain and woe.

Marilyn Friesen

Do you know what I am talking about? Have you experienced it?

Do You Want to go to Heaven?

Have you ever asked someone if they wanted to go to Heaven and they replied, “Nope, I am not interested. “ If there is such a fellow, or gal, I’d like to have a little chat with them. I’m curious to know why they had formed such an opinion.

For the majority of us, though, I think we instinctively  are longing for a Better Place after this life is over.  Life has been difficult for most of us at one time or another, and for some it has been down right rotten.

Someone said “hope springs eternal in the human breast.” I can’t remember who to attribute those words to, but they are such a classic quote they will not soon be forgotten. I believe it is a God-given longing to hope for something better after this life.

And there is, something better that is. There are a few requirements of course. We have to admit that we are sinners and Jesus died to cleanse us from our sins.

It’s a high, narrow road, this climb to Heaven, so better make sure the right things are in our backpacks so that they don’t drag us down. Worse yet, if the load shifts, we might be knocked clear off the cliff.

Okay, what are some of the things that we oughtn’t to care along with us? Well there’s offendedness and unforgiveness to name a couple. God had taken them away when we first came to Him, but we do have a way of picking them up, again, you know.

Everyone has their own ‘sins that easily besets them’ as the Bible says, and they do vary from time to time. Sometimes they want to cling like barnacles to the inside of the knapsack, let Jesus help you clean them out, you don’t need them.

Some don’t want to go there if their pets won’t be waiting on “Yonder Shore’ for them.  Why make a decision based on that? You don’t know for sure whether they will or won’t be, so commit that to Christ, also.

Some of us are easily distracted by the attractions of this world, getting rich or famous, having fun, being fit, well you name it. All of that is great, well to a certain extent, but don’t let it cloud our vision.

I really truly believe that Heaven will be far, far better than the most imaginative of us can ever picture.  Let’s get there.

P.S. I almost forgot something really important. We don't have to go around with an empty backpack, Jesus gives us some lightweight stuff to carry along with us that's really wonderful,  Love, Joy and Peace to name a few. 

Enjoy your spiritual journey. 

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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!

I'm Sorry

I feel like I have a confession to make. Yesterday, I posted a poem* I wrote thirty some years ago and it resonated in peoples'  hearts. There had been seventeen comments from one community alone in such a short time. And now, the question I ask myself is: why can't I touch folks hearts with my recent posts like I did with those simple rhymes? It makes me wonder if I have climbed up into an Ivory Tower somewhere and am doling out tidbits of wisdom without really feeling for you.

And yet my prayer for 'ages' has been "let my heart be broken by the things that break your heart oh God. Let me make a difference, let me bear the pain, give me Lord a caring heart."

Oh well, I'll just keep praying that God can use me, because I really do care about you. 

Love, Marilyn

* An Imaginary Visit with God

No Divorce!

 The Christmas story from Mary's Viewpoint. She has just returned from visiting Elizabeth and Zachariah.

21^st Av

August 9^th

 Dear Diary
Amen Alleluia El’ Elohim! I am home again, and the best news of

all: Yosef is willing to take me as his wife! Yes, you read correctly! Yosef

is willing to take me as his wife!

I will not be put aside after all! I will not have to endure the shame, and awful humiliation of a divorce!

I clung to him like I would never let go while the tears rained down my

cheeks. He kept caressing my face, and wiping at the tears with his thumbs, saying

“There, there, it’s all alright.”

I wasn’t the only one that was crying though. He turned aside more than once,

and used his sleeve to dry off his wet cheeks. He confessed that he was

also relieved it had worked out this way. That told me a lot about how

devoted he is to me, and to HaShem.

After we got somewhat over our joyous reunion we sat down on a stone bench in a shady nook, and he told me what caused him to change his mind. It was a dream!

How thrilling! The Lord God, Yahweh, sent an angel to visit Yosef one night in order to convince him to marry me after all.

Don’t tell anyone, but it makes me nervous to think HaShem is so closely involved in our lives.

And, oh by the way, Hilde is being more considerate towards me now that Yosef

made his decision, and told her about the dream. Perhaps she cannot quite

believe it, but if her precious Yosef is happy with me, that is good

enough for her. Whatever he does seems to be about perfect in Hilde’s

eyes. I wonder if I will ever act that way towards my sons.

Yaakov, on the other hand . . . (Sigh . . .) Why is he so critical of

me? Maybe it would be better not to talk about him. It makes me too

distressed.  It is enough that Hilde is more approachable, and Yosef, my

Chavivi, Yosef, is just wonderful! In fact I wonder if having that dream

has made him even more tender-hearted and kind than before. (If that were possible!)

11^th Elul

September 10^th

 Dear Diary

I suppose it is shameful, but I shed some tears tonight because we

will not be having a traditional, Jewish wedding. Such a ceremony would be

inappropriate in my condition.

I had dreamed for years of what my challah would look like and was hoping for a tall graceful canopy of fine white linen such as my parent’s friends from Bethashbea, make and sell. Perhaps they would have even given us a good cut in price.

I was dreaming of having the most fragrant pink roses that we could

find, tucked in here and there on the canopy. I’m sure Rizpah, who is

another dear friend of my mother’s, would have gladly given us some

for the occasion. She grows the loveliest damask roses of anyone I know. (Well, other than my mother’s Imma.)

Ever since I first noticed Yosef as a wee talitha of seven spring times, I

have often daydreamt of him, and me standing beneath it!

 Imma has some vines clinging to the front of our white brick house. I was hoping

to plant some into pots well ahead of time, and have them bordering the

archway on either side of the canopy and interlaced throughout the

roses. Would that not have been ever so lovely?

My dearest friends and I have often chattered about how delightful

it would be to help each other prepare for our mitzvahs.

I can almost feel the nervous excitement I would have felt as they

helped me into my wedding garments.

 They would have taken turns brushing out my hip length hair, and we would chatter happily as they busied themselves preparing all the rest.

I love to imagine the look of awe on Yosef’s face, when he sees

my hair uncovered for the first time!

It is fortunate that you cannot see my woebegone expression. I

must, I will refrain from repining over the loss of a beautiful wedding

when I have the more glorious honor of nurturing the son of Adonai.

To think I am the one woman in the whole wide world to have been given this

responsibility, this honor!

P.S. What a joy it is to be accepted into Yosef’s favour once again. I

could collapse with relief.

Unexpected Advice

Sometimes God gives us unexpected advice. Like this morning hubby said something that I did not appreciate. It was true enough, sure, but not what I wanted to hear. I was so irked that I knew it was important to flee to the 'closet of prayer' before I let something slip that shouldn't be said.

Then do you know what? God also gave me unexpected advice! He said "Enter His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise." Do you think I was in the mood to do that? No sir!  But I started by thanking Him for all the times He had helped us in the past, and so on.

So did that 'bugged' feeling vanish like a balloon in the sunset sky? Well, no, not quite, but it sure wasn't bad enough to make me snap at the one I love most on earth. And you know what? I even felt kind of happy.

So that's my sermon for today!

Woman Dearly Loved

I found a poem today that shares what kind of person I am almost better than anything I could say, so I am going to share it.           

To see and watch her is to know

That she is deeply loved. Her face

Reflects this love. Love has left its trace

In her serenity, the glow

Of deep contentment in her eyes.

Her joyous laugh, the cheerful way

She goes about her work each day.

Love halos women, beautifies

The plainest face, for more than bread

To every woman is the knowing

She is cherished: keeps her glowing

With confidence, affection-fed:

Her happiness, so much a part

Of love, enshrined within her heart.

Velma West Sykes

If you know how I can get hold of this lovely poet to give her credit, please let me know.

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.

Mothers

MOTHER'S

A message to the young

In her cupped hand

She holds your heart;

Holding it gently

From the start.

She sees such beauty in the clay

And tenderly fashions it

Day by day.

No artist could

More careful be

Than the mother who cares

Most lovingly.

And if perchance

You make mistakes

And your poor vessel

Cracks and breaks

She'll gather the pieces

Though scattered and sharp

And mend them with prayers

That come from the heart.

But mothers, as potters,

Are clumsy and weak;

Their touch, though imperfect

Is of love strong and deep.

Her hands are enfolded 

In God's Hands kind and strong

That will temper her efforts
All your life long.

Healing Love

As I "surf through the net" I'm discovering that so many of you have very deep wounds and are suffering more than I have ever had to suffer, and I used to think my life was extremely painful.
My heart goes out to you, and since I wish I could do more, I'm going to share a poem I wrote years ago. May it comfort you. I have found that true healing love comes from Jesus alone, but I hope and pray you can also find people that will help you. May God bless you.


Healing Love 
There is magic in the tenderness

Of a love that sweetly heals

Like a caressing touch its beauty

O’er my trembling spirit steals

When my soul lies bruised and crying

Torn by the lash of sin

Loves healing touch is like a balm

That soothes the pain within.

 

Like the sunlight bursting from the sky

Melting the cold, cold snow

So healing loves pure magic

Eases my pain and woe.

Marilyn Friesen