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

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

Why Did He Weep?

On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross: have you ever heard that song? Do you know what it is referring to? I picture a dark scene with three raw-hewn crosses and a crowd, some mocking others weeping below. It’s not a very pretty scene and it is sad, very sad. 

Crucifixion was the cruelest form of death known to man, so painful in fact that the word excruciating is related to it. On the center cross was an innocent man. Not only was He guiltless but He didn’t curse and swear and say all kinds of blasphemous words against the people that put Him there.

Why was He like that? Would you have been that forgiving?

One Way Solution

https://www.createspace.com/6618341 

Is the Head Covering Optional?

I grew up going to a church where no one wore a head covering and never thought twice about it. Probably you did too, or maybe you belonged to a conservative group where it was the custom to wear some sort of veil at least in public religious services. Is it really necessary:  or is it a tradition that has more or less fallen by the wayside? What do you think? I’d love to hear your opinions.

Why did women wear it for so many years, no change that to centuries if it was just, well, fashion? 

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! : )

Two Miracles

Anxiety Disorder (An open letter)

timbrenda@live.ca;

Dear Friend,

This isn’t exactly what you were looking for when you asked for information on how people were dealing with anxiety disorders but I would like to share my experience.

When and how this problem developed I can’t exactly say although I do know that it worsened over the years.

I came from an unhappy and later broken home where the silent treatment was a common method of punishment and was unable to openly share, and find healing for the sexual abuse that was part of my childhood.

In my middle teens I diligently searched and found a welcome haven among the people of God but that didn’t automatically cure the wounds afflicted in the past.

As time when on God provided me with a loving husband and we raised a family together. The stresses of life increased and I developed various symptoms such as severe dizziness to the point of not being able to attend public meetings. Panic attacks in crowded buildings especially if there were fluorescent lights and lots of activity such as children running around was severely debilitating by this time.

However, my first and foremost desires were to live completely surrendered to God and have Him burn out the dross in my life. By then some of our children had become prodigals, an indirect result of having a mother with a troubled past.

 I told God I would be willing for anything, absolutely anything—even cancer- if my children could be saved.

A couple different people suggested to my husband that we should have a prayer of healing and since our Ministerial Staff was supportive a date was picked.

The day we gathered in the board room at the church is engraved indelibly in my mind. As the meeting proceeded I sensed the warm fellowship and peaceful atmosphere.

By then I was so unwell I could barely even sit up for so long and they wondered if I’d be able to kneel. I wanted to however and with support, managed.

As the prayer proceeded and the oil was poured on my head I felt a burning, but not an uncomfortable sensation in the center of my forehead.

When I stood up the dizziness was gone and within a few weeks the accompanying headaches.  I felt like I was treading on holy ground like I had just partaken of a deeply meaningful Communion. This feeling of awe and holy wonder lingered with me for weeks.

About a month later I was asked to drive a vehicle back from a different province. Although I would be following my husband the whole way it seemed impossible. I never drove anywhere by myself except for short distances and such a long trip was totally unthinkable.

Naturally, my husband was concerned and as we proceeded down the highway he stopped frequently for the first hour or so to ask how I was doing but I was fine.

As the evening came on I was more than fine: there was a glorious sunset and I felt so in tune with God that I sang and prayed with the tears running down my face because I couldn’t praise Him adequately enough. There was no doubt in my mind that I had been healed by the hand of our Almighty God.

As the weeks following unfolded, I saw many little and not so little changes in my life. For example, instead of being so exhausted I’d have to have two or three naps a day, I could get plenty done and even go for a brisk over two-mile walk without any problems.

It was a pleasant surprise to me, and possibly to others to see my personality unfurl. Instead of being caged in by physical and emotional disorders I found myself unselfconsciously joining in conversations and becoming the self that I was always meant to be.

P.S. This is several months later and I still can’t praise Him enough.

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 Juniour 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 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 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. 

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. 

Imitate Hezekiah

Have you ever been reluctant to do something good because you were indulging in something even better? The most sacred time of the day by far is in the early morning and late at night when everyone else is possibly sleeping. Sweet communion with the Heavenly Father is...matchless.

But-- and nay, I will not even sigh-- before dawn's early light God was inviting me to share this joy, this beauty with others like you. He had whispered the suggestion yesterday and I was prayerfully wondering how I could do justice to such a lovely topic as communion with the Father.

But do you know what? He introduced a new twist: the Bible opened to a verse about Hezekiah who was one of the good kings of Israel from the long ago Bible Times. Maybe that doesn't seem so significant but it is, it really, really is. Do you know why? It's because his Dad, King Ahaz was a nasty old man, pardon me for saying so. He sure found a lot of ways to do evil but the one that makes me cringe the most is that he 'burned his children in the fire, after the abominations of the heathen,"  (2nd Chronicles 28 part of verse three.) It's a good thing he spared Hezekiah, but we'll get to that later.  Because Ahaz was a man of power and great influence, many people suffered and even died as a result of his sins.

By now you must be convinced that I have Alzheimer's or something and wandered completely off the topic but I haven't. I wanted to lay this background so you would get a better idea why the verse I am coming to is so remarkable. It's referring to Hezekiah after he replaced his father as king.

OK, sit up straight, and listen: 'For he clave (clung,) to the Lord and departed not from following Him, but kept His commandments, which the Lord commanded Moses.' (2nd Kings 18:6)

 That's the son of an evil man that we are talking about, but fortunately, he had a mother who loved the Lord, and so I am pretty sure both of them had learned how precious it is to pray, commune, fellowship, with the Lord God. That daily contact is vital. They were surrounded by evil, and maybe you are too, but get in touch with the Heavenly Father and cling to Him like Hezekiah did. Oh my, it is so worth it!

Thanks to Dr. James Dobson for this wonderful image. 

Miraculous 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.

A 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.

He Came So That We Can Be Free

 Tears of despair trickled down her careworn cheeks as she gazed out the darkened window. Day and night the Evil One is demanding that I let him have the boys. But how can I? They are precious to me! Mentally she looked around her bleak surroundings, and groaned deeply .Now that my husband Lawe, has died, I have nothing to offer to keep them out of the creditors clutches. I have no talents, not charm, no money"—

                        “Nothing?” The barely audible voice stilled her troubled soul.

Who Told You God Was a Hard Task Master? Who Dared?

I like to spend time with God first thing in the morning. These days it`s the topic of choices that caught my attention, and what the Bible has to say about them. Did you know that  in Deuteronomy we are encouraged to bring our choicest offerings? Well, knowing me, that got me curious to know what was being referred to, so I hauled out the good old Matthew Henry`s commentary which is great source for inspiring observations.

I was surprised that way back in the Old Testament times already God wanted us to worship Him with holy joy. Our soul is nourished when we come before Him with a thankful heart. That`s when we are best able to commune with Him and He fills us with the desire to have our faith and spiritual understanding increased. He fills us with a longing to become more and more like Him in every deed and action.

So what is the choicest sacrifice? Holy joy, thankfulness.

An Imaginary Visit With Jesus

Today I want to share a poem with you that I wrote many years ago. Hopefully it will be an encouragement to young mothers all around the earth.

Sometimes I get to sighing

And wish that I could see

The Savior come a-knocking

To spend the day with me.

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.

Enemies All Around and the Children Are Not Back!

This is an excerpt from one of the books I am writing.

Lydda wrung her hands and peered out of the low doorway of the dark, underground home and into the endlessly long tunnel, then once again dropped to her knees beside the pile of furs shoved off to one side.

“Please, God,” she entreated, “Please keep our children safe. Oh Father they have been gone all night. Stephanos is so little, and Tayletha a defenseless female. The shadows are lengthening once more, and they are still lost! Oh loving Heavenly Father, where are my children? Please, God, I need you to watch over them! Blind the eyes of our enemies so they will not recognize them as children of the catacombs. Oh, Father if they have somehow lost their way, send someone with a kind heart to give them direction. Oh, Lord, how will they ever find their way back home if they are lost? There are so many hidden entrances to this underground city!”

Just Another Nameless Face??

Based on a true story.

Does Jesus care about that little child way out in the boondocks somewhere that hardly anyone knows? What about that little one dwelling in one of the thousands of high rise apartments throughout the country? Does He care about them? Or are they just another nameless face in the throng? Does He care about you?

               Lora was just little when this happened, but boy, she will never forget it.