www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Showing posts with label bread. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bread. Show all posts

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Don't Forget the Bread

The Light Around Us

I’m going to tell you about this man; I'll call him Cham and the touch he felt from God. It's pretty remarkable, AND it's true. O.K, it started out this way; his wife needed to get to work and she asked him to pick up a loaf of bread and some other

things. Pretty basic, eh?
 


Only problem is he got distracted, and ended up in the beer parlor and the money ended up in the wrong cash register. Needless to say, the wife was pretty disappointed, but a week later the same thing happened again, or rather was about to happen. He was pretty busy having a good time with his friends, same time, same location, sort of thing, when he needed to visit the restroom. Now things got pretty interesting: when he walked out he looked out and lo and behold a light was shining all around him. I don't think he paid too much attention to it at first but went to join his companions, and they were gone! He asked the waitress about them, and all she could say was that they had upped and left. Well, he decided to go searching, but couldn't find them, but he did notice that the light was still surrounding him so decided to let it lead him. Cham followed the light in that otherwise dark night, and it lead him up to a narrow river which he decided to cross although it came up to his waist, then later across another river until it eventually lead him back home.

I believe this experience left a deep impression on Cham. He didn't always follow the Light, (God's light) as closely as He should, but he tried and God was able to bring him out of his ignorance and darkness to a closer walk with Him. He can do the same for you. Just follow the little light you have, pray and He will lead you, us one step at a time. When we look back, we will often recognise how He lead us better than we can at the moment.


Monday, September 7, 2015

What Happened to the Living Bread

This is based on a true story from what we call the Dark Ages. Thank you Google Images for the suitable picture.

Margit looked anxiously as her husband Jacob.

“Are you sure the children will be safe whilst we are gone?”

“They are in the Father’s care, wife. He will watch over them just as He will be with us.”

Margit nodded and picked up her satchel. If it were not for the urgent need to see her dying mother in another valley and another town, they would not have considered leaving their children overnight.

“Fear not, mother,” seventeen year old Eloise comforted, “We will be fine. Obed will care for the goats and other outdoor chores and I what pertaineth to the house.”

Margit nodded, and then whispered in Eloise’s ear. “Beware of the soldiers.”

Eloise was fearful, but pretended not to be, as she let her handkerchief flutter gaily in the breeze while watching their parents make their way through the empty streets.

Soon the early morning mist hid them from view.

                Well, we might as well start with our chores,” she began. “It will make the time go faster.”

Obed nodded and picked up the milk bucket, “Beware of the soldiers,” he also warned.

Once again they were on a rampage against the Christians. She shook her head woefully before picking up the straw broom to sweep into all the corners of their three room abode.

After that was done, she cleared the breakfast dishes off the table, and washed them in a pottery bowl, searched for the eggs from their tiny flock of chickens clucking in the yard, and laid out the ingredients for making the daily bread.

A few minutes later her fifteen year old brother handed her the milk from the goats then caressed the Bible resting on the corner of the wooden plank table.

“Henrik and Maria were taken in for questioning, “He informed her.

Although Eloise’s hands were busy adding the starter mixture to the ingredients in her dough trough, she stole a glance at the word of God.

“Aye, but it is so precious,” she murmured. “Our lives have been much changed since Papa and Mama have been taught by the Word. Papa no longer comes home drunk and brutal, and---“

“Shh, I know. But be careful. I must needs bring the goats out to pasture.  But ye be careful, ya hear?”

Eloise nodded and had a strange impulse to hug him, but that was not done in those days, so she dismissed it.

The silence hung heavily about the house after the last family member departed. Eloise wiped her hands on her apron and strained the milk.

I will put it to cool in the stream once the bread is rising.

Eloise found herself gazing frequently out the one small window at the street winding past their house. Then she heard it: the tromp of soldiers’ feet. They were across the street now, pounding on Neighbour Saul’s door but within minutes they would arrive at their own, ready to confiscate the Bible once they laid eyes on it, and possibly throw her in prison for breaking the law.

Eloise’s heart pounded as she snatched up the life changing word and pressed it against her bosom. Where oh where can I hide it?

The rough, angry voices grew louder, they were nearer.

“Forgive me Lord,” she whispered as she plunged the Bible into the dough that she had begun to knead  and carefully folded another portion on top.

“Open up! We command ye!”


“My hands are in the dough,” she responded with a slight tremor, “But the latch string is on the outside.”

The three burly men seemed to fill the space as they crowded in. Eloise noticed their eyes were blood shot.

“Hand over the heretic’s Bible,” the spokesman demanded. “We have heard that your parents purchased one from that wicked bookseller who came into the valley.”

“How we can hide anything in this small abode, “Eloise asked gently, “If ye insist on searching, look for yourselves for my hands are sticky.”

It didn’t take long before everything was upturned and even their straw pallets were slashed open.

“Where are your parents?” Simon demanded.

“They went to visit a dying relative. “She sprinkled some more flour into the mix and continued pressing it with the heels of her hands.  It is a good thing that Mama asked me to make a large batch so we would have some to give to the poor and needy, she thought, but one corner of the Bible did want to protrude.

“Did they take it with them?”


“Take what with them?   

“The Bible, you imbecile!”

“I trow not. They would not prate around town with such a dangerous item.”

“Simon, we are wasting your time here,” Thomas grabbed him roughly by the shirt. “It’s obvious there are no books of any kind in this humble cottage. We must be going.”

Simon cast one last suspicious glance at Eloise’s pale face before stomping out.

Many hours later Obed returned, his eyes wide with concern. “Where is the Word,” he asked? “I heard they made a search."

“Be careful when you cut the bread,” she answered simply.


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Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Be Awful Careful What You Say


Whoops! Looks like I got carried away a bit. This isn't from Mary's Diary nor yet from the life of this middle-aged marm from way back in the North Country. Maybe you want to take a break from other things and see what's going on in the next book I am writing. (Well, one of them.)These are the introductory paragraphs



   
                  "You have to be awful careful about what you
                   say, Stephen,” Tayletha cautioned. “The sentry walks by
        every half hour or so, and if he even suspects that we might be out after                       dark because we are …”she glanced
 furtively about and her voice lowered, “or because our parents are 
-you –know-what- we will be in deep trouble.”
      Her five-year-old brother nodded soberly. He knew very well 
how the “enemy” raged against the Christianus and would use any 
excuse to throw them to the lions. Stephen shivered a little at the thought,
 and clutched the loaf of bread closer to his thin chest.
Tayletha crouched even lower than she had been and inched her way
over to the balustrade bordering the flat roof. Every so often, she flattened herself against the rough surface and listened.
Far in the distance, the clomp-clomp-clomp of hobnailed Roman 
sandals on cobblestone streets sounded loud in the stillness. Soon the eerie flickering of the patrollers’ smoldering torch briefly revealed some ragged beggar boys darting back into the shadows. Tayletha sensed that the boys knew they were in danger of being clouted with a brawny fist if they were caught slinking around. Scavenging in the garbage strewn in the corners could most definitely wait for a safer time.