If the Mission's Impossible, What Shall I Do?

Andy looked towards the top of the mountain but couldn’t see it. You see he was only an ant, but he had a job to do, he hoisted his backpack and started crawling… and crawling. It was impossible to see the path through the maze of grass, gravel, fallen leaves and other obstacles but he must get to the top. Every day for as long as he could remember he had been traveling upward, and much of the time the trip was exceedingly difficult. He was lost, Andy knew it; he hadn’t been able to find the trail for days, but knew it must be there somewhere. Surely, if he kept climbing in the right general direction he would get there; after all, he was climbing upwards.

Andy was exhausted. The sun was beating mercilessly on his head, had been for hours now, and the load was getting heavier by the minute. Could things get any worse? They could. Other ants were making their way back, tired and discouraged.

“It’s not enough,” they lamented, “You’ll have to hurry, our little anthills of good deeds are not enough to appease the Creator.

“What about those who have been martyrs: their piles are made up the pain they have endured, are their offerings more acceptable?”

The only one not too weary to respond shook his head. “All of our offerings look pitiful; I don’t know why we try.”  At that, the other insects hissed angrily and there was such a clamour of protests that Andy crawled away to find shelter under a leaf.

He wondered for a long time what he should do if they toiled all day and long into the night yet their efforts weren’t satisfactory.  At length, he fell asleep.

“Andrew! Andrew!”

Andy stirred and opened his eyes but saw no one. There was a soft glow off to one side so focused on it.

“You are not an ant, but a man,” the melodious voice continued. “The one you call your master has convinced you that you are worthless, of no more significance that a lowly insect, but that is not so.

“Come let me take your burden, and as you share your worries with me, you will find the weight shrinking and you, yourself, will grow into the person you were meant to be.”

Andy turned over and went back to sleep, but in the morning the vision had not left him.

“I don’t know who you are, Sir,” he whispered into the air, but could you come and help me carry my weight?”

Immediately he felt his chest expand as if he could breathe easier and he was able to walk faster.

As the days went by, he found himself sharing more of the load with the unseen Comforter. Other ants looked up at him, puzzled, he was changing, growing, but not in a fearsome way. His face took on more human characteristics, such as kindliness and joy. Every time he helped someone with their troubles, he grew.

One day he shed the mold that was cramping him and was able to gaze into the eyes of his new Master.

Thank you for loving me enough to set me free,” he whispered.

The other ants still clamoured around him, belittling him, accusing and distracting him, but he had a new Master.

That made such a difference.

If you want a meaningful book you can keep and reach for time and time again, check out this website:

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Hope for the Hopeless

Tired, always tired, and gaunt, you wouldn’t look in the mirror if it was thrust in your face because you knew what you’d see and it isn’t a pretty sight.

Faded, unwashed hair straggling around your face is the least of your concerns, but the eyes…Oh those eyes, the dark look of hopelessness looming there is what makes others look away, it is so, so…what it is? Only you can say for sure: lonely? Despairing? Filled with a lifetime of pain, heartache, and grief?

You are plodding down a crowded street, shoved or avoided by the hurrying throng that you hardly notice, but you need a fix: that is your consuming desire, a fix, a fix, but that is exactly what you wanted to avoid at all costs.

 For ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty years or more your life has been a mess of addiction, prostitution and other details known only know to you but where oh where can you get your next very fleeting thrill from a pill, a bottle or a needle?

Natalie, yes, that’s a real person, was facing the same desperate situation once.  After serving time in jail, you can imagine what for, she had nowhere to turn, no place to live but, maybe with her sister.

She had been wandering, drifting for so many years that she absolutely loathed it. After reaching the empty apartment Natalie wandered out to the balcony and thought of ending her life by jumping down, but it wasn’t far enough. Across the normally teeming street was a new building going up with scaffolding high in the air. That’s where she was headed: that would be a good place to leap from.

 For some reason there was no one around which was very unusual, as she crossed the street, however, a small black man came out of the shadows and handed her a handwritten letter while saying: ‘Jesus loves you’. She paused to read it and one thing lead to another until she found out about Heart Seasons.

If you live in New York City maybe you have heard about them.

Natalie found a group of people with as bad a history as hers. She found other ‘sisters’ who had tried to recover countless times from addictions, but here at Heart Seasons there was hope. Yes, there really was.

This center was different than many; it focused on Jesus as the only answer. The program was strict, really strict for they were expected to take part in several hours of Bible study every single day, and were not allowed to ever leave without an escort.

After a year and a half or way longer if they wanted, if a person stuck with the program they could graduate, if they were ready. Being ready meant being able to rent an apartment and have a job for at least three months. Most were terrified of leaving, but of course,

they weren’t abandoned, they had their support group, and best of all they had Jesus.

Are you like Natalie, desperate, despairing and certain you have tried every ‘solution’ out there?

There is hope. There truly is. Jesus can be your anchor from drifting back into sin. There are friends of Jesus who would love to reach out to you, also.

 Contact me, if you want and I’ll see what I can do to help. Look up Heart Seasons in the telephone book, or elsewhere. I’m trying to find an address for you.

Whatever you do, never, never, never give up; there is hope. 

No Time to Call the Vet!

We just had a terrifying moment with our adorable, little puppy. I use an old pitcher little this with a more curved neck to water houseplants with than the one in the picture, and Cuddles got her head stuck in it. I tried to pull or twist it off, but that was impossible! Next, I grabbed a stone to break out an air hole for her. She had been calm til now but was beginning to panic, like me! I raced into the storage room and grabbed the vice grip but it seemed to take forever to chip pieces off that in-my-mind-too-durable vessel. But we did it, we did it, and Cuddles definitely wanted a reassuring moment of cuddling after that. What if our daughter hadn't noticed the puppy's predicament so quickly? What if she hadn't been there to hold her for me? God cares even about the little things.

Fog-Bog

The fog was thick like walls around
Impen'tratable and deep
And there was I so sick and sore
And too inclined to weep.

But move I must so slowly walked
With weary feet and mind,
The trail was slanting lower still
But I was feeling blind.

How long I plod this downward trek
I cannot think or say,
I longed to feel a hand in mine ,
A Guide to lead the way.

I dimly knew that God was kind
And won't forsake His own
But demons taunted in that mist
Which made me sigh and groan.

Yet when I felt all hope was gone
And I had lost the road
I weakly said "I'll not give up"
I'll trust in Christ my Lord. 

POST SCRIPT:
I'm standing now on Blessings' Peak
(An angel brought me there.)
Rainbows of hope swirl all around
The Lord God answers prayer.

Marilyn Friesen

To read an inspiring book by this author click on the following link.

https://www.createspace.com/4837922

One Wrong Decision

One Wrong Decision

Dear Diary, Cara stared at the words with growing frustration, then anger. Why do I have to resort to pouring out my feelings out on a mere scrap of paper? Isn’t there anyone, anyone at all who cares and understands? She clutched at her hair. I sure blew it way back when I was a kid, but I didn’t know any better, did I? Or did I? She leaped up and paced back and forth in front of the darkened window of the cheap apartment building.

Dear Diary, She sat down and stared at the words once again, then picked up her pen. Memories came flooding back. From her viewpoint the most precious recollection of them all seemed to be enshrined in gold. I was so happy that summer when I was nine. Les and Bonny cared for me like a daughter. I know they cared even though I stressed them out many a time with my wild ways. But I blew it. I blew it! I chose not to stay, and every home since then has been worse in one way or another. I never knew it would be such a rocky road if I took my own way, but how can I ever get back to that peace and serenity I knew as a kid on the farm?

She pressed her fingers against her lips to keep them from trembling, but the tears pooling in her eyes couldn’t be so easily stooped. I even stooped to asking Les’ if they would take me in; let me find a job in their community, but no, of course not. It was too late. They had their own children to think about. They didn’t say so, but I knew they thought I might be a bad influence on them. And it’s true. I might.

She viciously tore the tear stained paper out of the notebook, ripped it in half, crumbled it, and tossed it on the floor. I’m not the same girl I was then. In some ways I am even worse. And, yeah, their children would be curious to know what I have gone through, and in a weak moment, I would tell them…and relish it.

Oh God what do I do about this longing in my breast, so dull and yet so real? I want a different life. I want to find that light at the end of the tunnel but there are so many boulders in the way. How will I ever find it? She lay her head down on the desk and wept.

Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew11:28

If this sounds like you, remember there is HOPE. Reach out to God and he will reach out to you. 

Tumbling Into a Valley

Now where shall I start this article? I have spent three glorious weeks travelling and it has been truly a mountaintop experience, but now I have tumbled down into the valley. See that little old lady with a cane? Well that

feels like me. All that driving in a car really crippled me up and I still can’t walk—change that to limp—without discomfort. I told my hubby last night that I felt imprisoned in my own body. Okay, that’s the down side of my experience, but there is a definite UP side. We stopped to see relatives in various places as far flung from each other as Edmonton, Alberta and way down to Oklahoma. We did go further than that though: Mississippi was our goal.

 Do you know what people have in common? A caring attitude.

When we reached Stephen’s sister is Kansas, I pretended to walk normally but didn’t deceive anyone. It wasn’t long before they were hovering over me like I was a beautiful bird with a broken wing.  Did that compassion soon stop? Nope. Because of generous, concerned loved ones, I ended up seeing chiropractors not once but four times before we arrived back home, and once since.

I admit being a little leery of having my bones manipulated, but hey, when you are desperate enough, you’ll do anything right?  To my surprise chiropractic methods have really soared over the last thirty years, and I was introduced to something called an Activator which really helped.  Believe it or not, anyone could have seen the improvement in my walk if there had been a before and after video taken.

No, it wasn’t a magic cure-all but hey, it took years to get into this condition which was caused mainly by an ancient injury, but at least I see light at the top of the valley I have tumbled into.

Oh, by the way, when I started rambling I didn’t really know which way this article was going, but there is one thing I must share with you.

Medical problems in the states aren’t something we Canadians look forward to having, but do you know what? Four of those treatments, plus ointment, plus pills and plus a couple of informative books were all provided anonymously free of charge. Any wonder why I’m feeling a bit teary-eyed?

Predator

Now why did I have to dream about him?  In spite of things that happened in my childhood and teen years I haven’t been plagued by those kinds of dreams. Why now?

                There was a large glossy topped table between us but it was obvious that he was after me. I would rapidly walk a few steps then stop. So would he. He would cross his arms and give me a slightly sneering grin. I glanced around at the wood paneled walls. No windows and doors in sight, no escape route. I started moving again and so did he. This kept on for a while. I knew he was just wearing me down in his tormentingly leisurely way.

                I dropped to my knees, putting my head on my arms, and cried out to God. Then my alarm rang.  He vanished, but I was still troubled. Why did I dream about him?

                My husband had an explanation that echoed my own.

                “It was a good dream,” he said. “Because you knew where to turn, you cried out to God.” (Something like that.) “Your Dad represents evil to you.”

                But why did I dream it? Why, why? And then I knew. There are those of you that are facing situations like that. You and ‘him’ seem to be going round and round the table.  He ‘knows’ he will wear you down eventually and is gloating. But will he? Does he have to? No. Sure you have an adversary, but you also have an Advocate. Jesus is our protector and guide out of difficult situations.

                But do you have an advocate? Have you found Jesus to be a haven of rest ‘in the trying scenes of life’ as one song put it?  He doesn’t wave a magic wand and make all your troubles disappear but He will be there for you making you stronger, giving you comfort. Admit that you can’t ‘escape’ on your own. Admit that you are poor and needy in need of a Savior and commit everything to the lovingly Heavenly Father’s care. 

African Border Crossing Adventure

Is any border simple--no big deal? Maaaybe...somewhere. But certainly not between Mozambique and Malawi. I'm not sure why it had to take so long, but being ignorant with the language and customs certainly didn't help.


Look around you. See all the traffic, even huge older trucks nosing it for a better spot? See all the pedestrians and all the different stops we have to make and all the papers we have to sign. Quite a deal, huh?  I reckon this is a favorite spot for both beggars and sellers! Ah, but they have such appealing eyes...the beggars, I mean, and the craftsmen sure did want us to come to their open air markets. Sometimes they would come right up to us with their goods. Did I actually say sometimes??!! They must spot a tourist a mile away and make a beeline towards us! But hey, we can't help everyone, not that we were even tempted, sorry to say!


There is one unforgettable border crossing though. We had a man and a boy in our truck. The boy had had a club foot that had been surgically repaired, earlier, and now infection had set in so Milton was bringing him in to the Be In CURE hospital. This memory isn't about them though, because they were so quiet, I hardly noticed them.


While we were milling around, mostly waiting, of course, I caught sight of a young mother with a sad face and a baby on her back. She was holding a little boy by the hand. For some reason she tugged at my heart so I said Bon Deah. (Good day) She responded without any light in her eyes, and a little while later I decided to try again, so pointed to her baby and said "Bonita." Surely that would make her smile. I think it means "Beautiful" in Portuguese and doesn't every mother like to have her child complimented? It brought a response alright, but I couldn't understand a single word she said, so Milton had to come to my rescue.


It came out that she wanted just a little money, but our son investigated further and found out that her little boy's arm had gone limp a month or two before, and he strongly suspected that he had Malarial Cerebral Palsy. (Groan) So we  brought her with us into Malawi and to the hospital. It was hard on me having her sit in the back of our covered truck while we sat in comfort in the front, so offered to join her there. I was told that it was okay,  she was probably sitting on our luggage so I went quiet.


An interesting cultural difference showed up at the hospital. She didn't mind if I helped carry her luggage, but when my husband picked something up, she quickly said, "Let it be, let it be."


She was overwhelmingly grateful for the room in the hostel and other assistance All I could do was haltingly try to point her to the Giver of All Good Gifts.


Please pray for her. I hope all is well with her and her family.

Do YOU Know Lana?

Yahoo! Yoo hoo, ‘Lana’! Are you out there somewhere? It’s been a few years, now, but I haven’t forgotten you. How can someone forget such a tragic existence!