What Really Matters?

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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 suddenly passed away. Would you weep just because someone who made you a garment died? 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 would it be then? 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 fathers 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?

You'll find this story in the last part of Acts 9.

Incidently if you are the 10th person to buy one of my books before Valentine's Day you can get a second book free. www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com Just send your proof of purchase to stevenme@yahoo.com

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 suddenly passed away. Would you weep just because someone who made you a garment died? 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 would it be then? 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 fathers 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?

You'll find this start in the last part of Acts 9.

So This Is Me

I live and breathe writing, but not just any kind. Penetrating the darkness seems to be a pet theme, or phrase with me. This world is so full of shadows that come in many different shapes and forms. You know what the chains that want to tighten you are, whether they are poverty, fear, pain, heartache in its many kinds, or something else. I have given my life to bringing a ray of light into this dark and hurting world.

Another thought I like is this description of a glowing candle.  It is warm and beckoning with just enough of a glow to be deeply appreciated, but not so much that you feel unhappy with the glare or the heat.

Come in and help yourself to a candle and together let us seek the Light of the World, who is Jesus.

Lovingly, Marilyn

P.S. I’m not a very conspicuous person: auburn haired, round faced, smiley with gentle eyes and what you might call an old fashioned grandmotherly look.  Because we like people so much we have a bed and breakfast. If you want to visit us you can find it under the listings for air bnb (bed and breakfast) Alberta.

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. 

Stunned in Africa

Come on grab a pair of sandals, there's plenty of those over there by the door. I can lend you an extra sunhat if you don't have one, and don't forget the sunscreen and mosquito repellent. Even though it's wintertime in Mozambique we don't want to take any chances of getting the nasty, and sometimes recurring malaria.  I want you to walk where I walked and see what I saw. It didn't take me long to feel bombarded by all the different impressions. Just between you and me and the baobab tree I experienced some serious culture shock while there. Don't tell anyone, but I broke down and cried uncontrollably for a couple hours. It was just too much. Too much poverty, too much ignorance, too hard a life, and I felt too helpless to do anything about it. 

I found it a bit uncomfortable bumping along these rocky, rutted roads in our big, four wheel drive truck, but all around us people were walking, always walking which would be far more exhausting. . We saw thousands of black faces, many so solemn looking, carrying heavy bundles, often on their heads and the women, it seemed like more often than not, had a baby or toddler wrapped on their backs. I guess seeing the numerous pedestrians with heavy loads and  knowing they would be  sleeping on bamboo mats, and the pitiful diets were among the things that hit me the hardest. Hey, they are people just like you and I! 

At first we babbled foolishly about what can we do to help, but eventually fell silent. What could we do? Their needs are so great, and our efforts so small. Even the education of many was a crying shame. Some children could hardly even write their name. 

We saw far too many places similar to this. How would you like to call this home? 

I was asked later if I would go back if I had a chance. I thought about it for a while and this is my answer. For an adventure, no, but as a missionary in order to help the people, yes, a resounding yes, IF I could learn the language sufficiently to share my love with them. Life for so many in Africa is a hard life, and it would be also, to a lesser extent for the missionary because it would be a huge adjustment. No an adventure seeking spirit couldn't drag me back, but love could.