www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Thursday, October 20, 2016

2 Dumped

www.prairieviewpress.com
Mother dies on the train, kids left at an overcrowded orphanage, how will they ever find a true Home at Last? But they did! Find out how with the included link for A Home at Last by Marilyn Friesen

Thursday, July 21, 2016

The Number One Reason I Wrote It

So what’s really important to you? For me it is, was, and always will be to be a good mother. I think a lot of you can identify with that: being a worthwhile parent is a goal that we long to reach but at times seems unattainable.

So what do we do? We get help. By far my best assistant is the greatest parent of them all, the Heavenly Father. Have you found it so?

But, we still stumble and fall and search for more direction, right? Maybe we even find heroes that we admire. One of my favorites was Mary, the mother of Jesus. I think we all, Protestants, Catholics, Mennonite and Amish, or whatever, agree that she must have been a wonderful mother.

But what made her so special?  I think it was her humility, but had a consuming desire to learn more about her and possibly learn from her example.

So I wrote a book. Perhaps you have heard about it already: Mary’s Diary, Jesus through His Mother’s Eyes. I chose to write it in diary format because it seemed more personal, intimate.

And I prayed about it a lot, too. I really wanted to know how it might have felt to raise the most remarkable Son in the world. I’m telling you it was a real blessing delving into this topic.

Okay, enough for now. I’ll send you a few links so you can check out this book for yourself. I’m praying that, if you are a Mom, Dad, a teenage girl or anyone else looking for inspiration and direction, maybe this book will bless you just like it did me.

Take care!
Marilyn Friesen



https://www.createspace.com/4837922

Monday, March 14, 2016

From Hard Benches to Heavenly Visions


I know this is very unprofessional and would never get a reward for the best-developed plot in the world, not that I wanted one, but here goes, I’m back-tracking again!

Okay, here we are all those little kids and their councillors sitting in a vast auditorium with a wooden floor. I was positioned near the front. This is significant because chances are pretty good that the rest of the story would have turned out differently if ‘we cabin girls‘ had been parked way at the back somewhere.

Those speakers must have really liked children, ‘cuz they certainly knew how to catch our attention! A whole table full of assorted tinkling bells and a ventriloquist are the ways I remember most.

But this exact evening they weren’t using exotic methods, in fact, I don’t remember anything special other about the approach other than the fact that the speaker was drawing our attention to the Son of God, the Saviour of the world.

There was an altar call given and I clearly saw a picture in my mind of Jesus hanging on the cross—for me! Dying so I might be saved, surrendering his life so that I could be free.

Those that accepted the invitation were directed into one of the tiny rooms at the front of the auditorium and a leader told them about the A B C’s of being saved.  Do any of you remember that? Was it Accept that Jesus died for you, Believe that you are a sinner, Confess what He has done for you to others? I don’t remember the exact wording but I do know I went away a changed child, happy, and at peace.  What a beautiful way to go through life, hand in hand with God.

P.S. I just hunted around for an appropriate picture to go with this post. I’m telling you, it gives quite a sensation to see a full-color image of something that closely resembles memories from my past.



Okay, here goes. I’ll pretty soon hit ‘send’! https://www.createspace.com/4837922

Friday, December 11, 2015

It's Coming Nearer!

Are you ready for Christmas? Are you sure? What about that story of Jesus' birth that you wanted to get for your children or grandchildren but in the hustle and bustle of the season it just didn't seem quite so important after all. Here's a little reminder of what the Christmas Season is all about. Sure it's called a Winter Holiday, or whatever now, but remember JOY to the world the LORD is come!! Imagine how sad this world would be if Jesus had NOT
 come!




20th  Chisleu
December 4th


Dear    Diary,
I am not feeling very brave today even though the stars are twinkling brightly in the otherwise black, early morning sky. Yosef is
loading Balaam, our donkey.

Somewhere, far, far away, in a place called Beth Lechem, the stars are also shining, I suppose, but the track is so rough and dark between here and there.

There are treacherous mountains just  few furlongs from the road we must take, who know what kinds of animals might come prowling around at night.

It will take us many days to get there, this is happening so close to when the baby is expected to arrive! I have never been far from home, except for the time I went to see Aunt Elisheva I dread this journey.

At least this time I will have Yosef with me. What a consolation. My deepest fear is for the Baby, because I am so near the end. Oh, if only it would have worked out to have left earlier. Will He be alright?

I know we will not be traveling alone but that is not much of a consolation.

Cousin Abigail, once my dearest friend, will be in the company, but she has been cool and aloof since my condition was revealed. It might be easier to handle than the scathing remarks Shoshoni made to Tamara at the marketplace. I think she knew  I might have overheard her.

My sister, Hanalei, claims Shoshoni has always been jealous of me, but why, I am not that special. Some have called me sweet and pretty but she is beautiful and sophisticated. Besides, her father is a prosperous  merchant and we are so poor.

It has been such a trial since the villagers shunned me  While whispering behind their hands.



I am so lonely for the merry prattle we aant’ats used to share when we met at the well each morning. Now everyone just falls silent or walks slowly away while
my eyes dolefully follow them. Oh well, it could be so much worse.

For some reason, and I am not sure why, it has not made that great of a difference that Yosef married me. Is it because of Yaakov? I probably shouldn’t have written that, yet I do know that someone is spreading rumors that Yosef is not the father of my child. Obviously, I am too far along for it to have happened since we were betrothed…

They have been saying that I was overtaken by a Roman soldier. They do ravage careless maidens at will, especially while in a drunken stupor. Of course, that is so impossible! My parents would never let their daughters be alone if they had to be out at night.

My aleichem(neighbors), could be making cutting remarks to my face but most of them don’t.

I mentioned Shoshoni, but really, most of them don’t say anything much . . . in my presence, at least. Sometimes I fear that the Little One I care about so deeply may have to suffer much worse persecution than I. Oh, how I yearn to protect Him!

Why do such thoughts come to me? Most people are confident  that the Mashiach will be a glorious King and will rule with a scepter of gold. If that is the whole
truth, why would a poor talitha like me be asked to be His mother? It is confusing. I am so inadequate for such a privilege, and it is such an awesome responsibility.

I wish Imma could come along to Beth Lechem. It would be such a comfort. But, on the other hand, maybe it is better that she is not able. She tends to worry so, saying things like,

“Be sure to keep warm, do not let yourself get too tired.”


She has told me that countless times, or so it seems. How can I keep from getting tired? I am worn out already, and we have not even begun. Imma is scurrying towards me with a nicely wrapped parcel of food for the journey. I really must go assist her.


Maybe you want this Christmas to be really refreshing. Maybe you are longing to have a real classical book to remind you of the true story of how Jesus came to earth and changed the world. Don't wait any longer. Here's a treasure that will be a precious reminder for years to come of how wonderful Jesus is. You might want to set it close to your Bible and use it as a Devotional, even.

Monday, December 7, 2015

The Flood From a Child's Viewpoint (continued)



                Noah was begging them to find safety in the Ark because a flood was coming to drown all the bad people. Shaba didn’t need anyone to tell him what a flood was. He would never forget how some older boys had thrown him over a small waterfall and he had thrashed and screamed his way to shore. How he had survived he would never, ever know.
                “Shaba!” The barked command made Shaba’s knees buckle. Was it Mobid? No, but it was just as bad.  The crowd quickly parted as his dad shoved his way through and flung Shaba on the ground. A woman tittered nervously as Jakal thrashed him.
                A sharp cry came from the Ark’s doorway. Jakal rose and shook his black hair out of his eyes, glared at Noah then continued beating the lad.

                Another stern command came from above, and Raibo said later he thought for sure Noah and his sons were going to plunge into the crowd and break up the fight, but just then Jakal yanked Shabo to his feet and dragged him away. Raibo didn’t dare follow, he was sure Shaba would be killed anyway. 

Sunday, December 6, 2015

The Flood From a Child's Viewpoint



Shaba’s eyes rounded in horror and he clasped his hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting, or worse yet screaming. He couldn’t keep from staring at the charred bones in the pit of ashes. At first he was totally frozen to the spot then completely involuntarily his foot nudged at the bones.
 Yes, it was a skull, a tiny human skull. He knew it was, had known it would be. A shadow felt across the pit, a huge black shape holding a machete. Before he had a chance to flee or even scream he was yanked by his hair and dangling a foot above the ground.
                “Ha! I knew your curiosity would get the better of you sooner or later! Yup, that’s your kid sister alright. Made a mighty good sacrifice, she did, but not as good a one as you would have.”
                Shaba wanted to wriggle free but was too terrified. The monster-like man whipped the machete within a hairbreadth of his neck then slowly pressed it closer, drawing blood.
                A small crowd was gathering around, some cheering him on.
                “What do you think guys? Should we take this one?”
                “Nah,” one of his companions drawled. “He’s too skinny. One brute a night is plenty or it will get too common.”

                Faintly over the breeze they hear someone with a strong voice speaking.  Shaba saw the crowds’ attention shift from him to the distance preacher. Mobid’s grip slackened and Shaba fought desperately to get away.
                “Hey, I didn’t say you could go!” But Shaba had vanished, a ripped piece of his tunic dangling from Mobid's hand. Mobid lunged after him but he didn’t have a chance.  Shaba was fleeing for his life.
               
                “You okay, Shaba?” The small boy shrank back in terror into the dark recesses of his thatched roof hut. He was pretty sure who was looking in on him but wasn’t about to let his presence be known. Not yet.
                “C’mon Shaba, you’ve been hiding here most of yesterday and all night. Mobid and his gang are picking on other prey. Let’s go find out what Preacher Noah is talking about. It’s pretty safe if we get up close to the ramp.”
                Shaba knew that was true. People hurled insults or even rocks from a distance at the old man but they seemed afraid to do it within twenty feet of him. Did they think he would strike them dead or something? It took a long time for Raibo to convince him to come out, and when he did it was only because Raibo had slashed open a pineapple and coaxed him to come out and help him eat it.
                The boys slipped stealthily through the lush, over-grown jungle, ever keeping a wary eye open for vicious animals and even worse humans.
                Raibo pushed his way through the restless, scoffing multitude hanging around the ark that was being built, with Shaba at his heels.
                Shaba felt his tension slowly ease away when he gazed into Noah’s kind, gentle eyes.
                Most of his sermon was hard to understand but he knew that Noah was pleading with the people to repent of their wicked ways. Shaba knew what wicked meant. He saw it every day. Every day someone was being abused. He didn’t know the words to describe what was happening mainly to little kids like himself and Raibo, but he knew it was evil, very evil, and terror haunted him wherever he went. He looked longingly at Noah and his wife, his three sons and their spouses and knew with a certainty that they never ever had treated each other in the way that every kid and women in his village were molested.
                Noah was begging them to find safety in the Ark because a flood was coming to drown all the bad people. Shaba didn’t need anyone to tell him what a flood was. He would never forget how some older boys had thrown him over a small waterfall and he had thrashed and screamed his way to shore. How he had survived he would never, ever know.
                “Shaba!” The barked command made Shaba’s knees buckle. Was it Mobid? No, but it was just as bad.  
to be continued...

Thursday, April 16, 2015

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 being too soft on the ‘brats’ and didn't have the nerve to make a scene in front of all the other comrades including hardened officers who were partying with them.www.prairieviewpress.com *
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 the heart?

How many children, young people, and churches are starving spiritually while those of us that should be helping them 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 you or I 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 oh I pray that I can do better!


* I poured out my heart concerning the needs and pathos of orphan children in the book A Home At Last. It is a true story that is supposed to incite people to want to adopt, foster or just care and pray for the needy children around the world. 

Friday, December 26, 2014

Get Me There On Time

George Mueller had an appointment on Friday at one o'clock, in Montreal. Problem was he was still stuck at sea, and he had been for days. The ship was locked in heavy fog and the captain wouldn't dream of trying to venture closer to land under the circumstances. He hadn't reckoned with George Mueller who claimed he had never been late for an appointment and didn't intend to start now. Well the captain tried to reason with him, all the while wondering what kind of insane person he had on board.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

God Knows MY Size

How many years is it since Darwin presented the evolution theory to the world?  It must be well over one hundred by now, am I right? So how many students in that time have been taught that humans evolved from monkeys, or even lesser beings? It would take a more mathematical mind than mine to even make a rough guess. Anyone want to chance it? 

The point I’m getting at, is, if evolution has a solid base of truth and there wasn’t so many gaps in the theory, wouldn’t we all be convinced by now that everything just happened?  Why are there so many, even those that proclaim themselves as atheists, plagued with doubts from time to time?

Back in Russia where teaching about God were mocked and scorned and stomped on possibly more viciously than almost anywhere else in the world there was a young student who also had questions about the existence of God. Sure, her parents and a few others were ‘devout believers’ but she was feeling unsure so started to talk to the ‘God’ her parents seemed so well acquainted with.

She didn’t make it easy for Him to convince her that He was real either. They were living in a two room shelter at the time, and ‘they’ included eleven others in her family. That shouts poverty, right? Well, winter was coming on, and she wanted a new coat and a sweater. Could God provide that for her; her, just one little girl among the millions of other poor children throughout the world?  From a girlish viewpoint there was something else that she wanted almost as much if not more than that comfortable winter clothing. She wanted shoes, feminine shoes. It was no fun at all clomping off to school in her brother’s boots that she had to stuff with newspaper to keep from falling off.

Well, she prayed, and prayed, but no answer seemed to be forthcoming. I guess she must have started finding comfort in her nightly chats with God because she kept on for several weeks.

Then one day Daddy came home from work carrying a big package. You can be sure all those children were excited and curious to know what it was, and their parents couldn’t even guess.

Sit back and picture that girl’s thrill of awe when first one, then two, then three items were pulled out of the box and they were just what she had asked for. There was a beautiful burgundy coat, a gray sweater, and brown shoes with little heels and a design stamped on the tops. Were they new? Yes.  Did they fit her perfectly? Absolutely.

“I hadn't even remembered to tell Him my size,” she whispered with tears in her voice. 

Friday, February 14, 2014

Afraid in the Catacombs

Time for another quick peek into my upcoming novel. Around Smoldering Coals.  Two children and their mother are trying to find their way back to their home in the catacombs. This is part of what I added today, so I haven't had the time to do a whole lot of editing on it.


Tayletha took two, then three candles from a stash near the door. After such a harrowing experience she wanted the comfort of light surrounding her. The fosser saw them studying the map Cedric had made for them and looked over their shoulder.
“I can draw you a quicker route,” 
Lydda and Tayletha looked at each other. Then Lydda saw the exhaustion in her son's eyes.
“Where is it?”
He took the wax tablet and started to erase it. Tayletha snatched it back. “We don't know you! Our pateras made this map and it's good enough for us.”

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Thursday, August 9, 2012

A Certain Sister Fell Among Thieves

Fern cradled the cordless phone under her chin while deftly forming cookies for the Annual Charity Auction.
"Hi, Ruth! So what are you doing today?"
"Oh, sewing. Sewing for my grandchildren. You know how it is with children. They grow so fast."
"They sure do. Say, did you hear what Susan has been up to the last while? "
"Uh huh!"
Fern didn't seem to hear her as she plunged on with her story.
"I can't believe she would 'fall in' with that sort of companions! And did you hear what she was doing just the other day?"
"Who were her companions?"
"Oh, you know. The unusual. Doubt, Unbelief, Luvof-deeworld. I don't know their real names.She really fell hard."
"Yeah, I wanted to go talk to her, but didn't know what to say."
"She should have known better. After all she came from a good family."
"Did you hear who did go and talk to her?"
"No, who?"
"Diedrie."
"Diedrie?"
" You know, the one who started coming to church awhile back!"
"Oh, her! I haven't met her,yet! You'd think she would be ashamed to come around with her outlandish hair color and those awful tattoes!
I wish you wouldn't keep sewing while I am talking!"
"They say she has met the Lord." Ruth gazed longingly at the garment in her hands. Chatting with Fern always took soo much time.
"Really? Well, seeing is believing. I wish she would change her ways if she is going to persist in coming to church. Think of the influence she could be on the young!"
"Yeah!"
A faint dinging sound could be heard in the background.
"Oh, there goes my timer. I'm making my famous Orange Buttermilk Cookies for the sale. Iced and decorated, of course.I do hope we rake in lots of money towards building a new church in El Savador. It's a good cause."
" Maybe I should donate these dresses I'm making. Breanna and Kayleen have plenty."
" Sure, that's a good idea. I hope that, uh, What's Her Name doesn't put strange ideas into Susan's head. The poor girl. I bet her mother must be so embarrassed to have Her hanging around."
Ruth was silent. She had heard that Susan, and her mother had been deeply touched by the compassionate, non-judgmental attitude Diedrie had shown.
"I wish I could be more understanding...." She said softly.
"Oh, you do fine. Look, you offered to give those dresses, after all that work and money you put into them! Well, I got to run along. Ta de da! Have a good day." Click!
Ruth sat there lost in thought. Why is it so much easier for some to show compassion than others?

Books by Marilyn Friesen are available from:www.prairieviewpress.com    

http://www.authorsden.com/marilynffriesen