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

 http://www.amazon.com/dp/1511783966
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 http://www.amazon.fr/dp/1511783966
 http://www.amazon.it/dp/1511783966

https://www.createspace.com/4837922

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. 

I'm Sorry

I feel like I have a confession to make. Yesterday, I posted a poem* I wrote thirty some years ago and it resonated in peoples'  hearts. There had been seventeen comments from one community alone in such a short time. And now, the question I ask myself is: why can't I touch folks hearts with my recent posts like I did with those simple rhymes? It makes me wonder if I have climbed up into an Ivory Tower somewhere and am doling out tidbits of wisdom without really feeling for you.

And yet my prayer for 'ages' has been "let my heart be broken by the things that break your heart oh God. Let me make a difference, let me bear the pain, give me Lord a caring heart."

Oh well, I'll just keep praying that God can use me, because I really do care about you. 

Love, Marilyn

* An Imaginary Visit with God

Poor, Sweet Little Claudine

I suppose some of you might be wondering what happened to Claudine and her baby. I guess I shouldn't have put off finishing this story for so long, but it has been a bit hard to cope with. Claudine was faithful until the end. Amazingly, joyously faithful, something we can't comprehend because we have never been asked to suffer in that way. I believe her heart was broken that she was never able to see her infant again, but even I, with my limited understanding of agony know and have the assurance, that Jesus was there for her. I suppose she often wondered how little Jans was doing but perhaps he died at an early age which was so common in those days. I'm sure yearnings and prayers for her husband and children lingered in her heart at all times, but there was something more. God was giving her strength, she loved Jesus so much, and sensed her Saviour's love in return that she would have gone singing to her death if they wouldn't have gagged her. Well, she's gone to her reward now, and that is no idle platitude and perhaps I will someday get to know her on the Other Side.