Marilyn Friesen

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Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Lullabies and Memories Even Though the Twins are Still Separated

Are you interested in seeing an excerpt from my upcoming book? My computer has a serious attitude so I can't seem to edit this. I hope it will publish!!

“Away in a manger no crib for a bed,” Margaret sang not caring that it was still a long time until Christmas. Juniour and Sally waited patiently on the couch until it was their turn to be rocked. Finally with a little smile on her face, Alice closed her innocent young eyes and was fast asleep.
            Margaret didn’t put her down right away, though. She stroked the soft copper-colored tendrils off Alice’s forehead and wondered if her twin still looked so totally identical to her. She carried her carefully to the lower bunk that David had made: twin sized on the bottom and single on the top, so that each of the children could sleep in the former storage room. Her heart was filled with prayerful longings towards the Other Twin.

She opened her arms to Sally who jumped eagerly on to her lap.

“Jesus loves me this I know,” she crooned next smiling at Davey Juniour. Soon, all too soon he wouldn’t want to be rocked anymore, thinking he was a big boy now. Already he was worried that the Other Boys in grade two would Find Out but she assured him she and Daddy would never tell and since he wouldn’t either it was their special secret. After the customary three or four songs for Sally, she tucked a light cover over the  girls and planted a kiss on each smooth, untroubled forehead
Now it was Davey’s turn. My, he’s growing to look more and more like his Daddy. She hugged him close and started singing “Dare to Be a Daniel,” which he loved. Sally resembled her birth mother, Janet, who Margaret had never met. None of the three were bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh, but she loved them dearly as if they were
Her voice faltered while singing “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,” but Junior didn’t notice
 If little Ricky had lived he would be just a few months older than Emily and Alice, and he, too, would have had an opportunity to snuggle in her arms, something she achingly missed. She tried not to let her voice quaver as she thought about the baby she had lost on the ship, and that there had been no little brother or sister forthcoming since.
Soon the little darlings were fast asleep and as Margaret finished tidying up she wondered how much longer it would be before David came in. He often spent his evenings at the shop repairing a customer’s vehicle.

Sunday rolled around once again.

“Davey come stand by me as I brush the dust off your little suit.  My word, what were you doing, Little Man, that you got so dusty?”

“The ball rolled under your bed, Mummy.”

“And you when to fetch it, I see.   I had neglected to sweep under there for too long! Well, you sit on the couch and look at a book. Come Alice, I will comb your hair.”  

Oh my, how the time has flown. When I first came to Halifax Sally was even younger than Alice is now. When she was done she plopped the little girl on her David’s lap. He smiled at the little girl and tweaked her chin. When she snuggled up against his shoulder, Margaret’s brow puckered. How would we ever be able to give up Alice if Marita decides to want her back?  As she combed Sally’s shiny, blond hair into two almost waist-length braids and fastened them with ribbons, she thought of even deeper worries. Lord, what is going on in Marita’s life?  Are they destitute? Ill-treated? Has Randall gotten his drinking under control?

“Margaret we will have to hurry if we want to get to church on time.”

Margaret’s eyes swept over the kitchen and she sighed. The dishes were stacked neatly beside the sink but they weren’t washed. Oh well, at least the children got the table cleared and wiped.

She often dreaded Sunday’s because unexpectedly a wave of nostalgic memories would sweep over her and she had been known to weep right in the pew of that formal church.

 Daddy, her dear Daddy used to be a warm-hearted preacher far away in England, but he, and Mumsey, also, had died in such a tragic way.

Alice, who was sitting on her lap as they drove, was prattling away, and didn’t notice when she sniffed and discretely wiped away a tear. David did though, and his hand reached out to cover hers.  She smiled sadly at him.

The two in the back were making such a ruckus; they certainly wouldn’t be noticing the little exchange going on in front of them.

Later the sermon droned on and on. What wouldn’t Margaret give to be listening to her father preach just once more? How she missed his endearing way of weaving in stories in so that even the younger ones would be interested. How she missed seeing her brother Richard sitting close to the front on the far side with a batch of boys his age. She remembered more than once his mischievousness would threaten to boil over and father would quell it with a stern look. Oh, dear where is my hankie?

After church there was the usual gossip and idle chit-chat.

The neighbour girl, Janiece, strolled by arm in arm with a handsome man from the States. Her mint green drooping and flower adored hat was the envy of the younger set…or was it the man she was with?

She joined a cluster of women visiting in front of the building.

“Well Janiece sure got herself a fine catch. I wonder when the wedding will be.”

“”Oh, hadn’t you heard? It’s going to be a June wedding, next June, of course, and they will be honeymooning in France. Imagine! In our day France was a dreadful place to be.”

The first speaker grimaced, “I’m glad that war is over. My cousin was the only one from our family, who served, and he’s such a grouchy, old soul since returning. He used to be so much fun!”

Margaret turned to gather up the children, feeling empty and desolate. Sometimes she admitted being less satisfied after going to church than she had before the service.


Thursday, March 10, 2016

Better Than a Fairy Tale? We're Getting There

Do you want to hear more of my life story? Tell me if you have any questions or comments.
So what makes something a highlight in our life? How do we decide that this is worth writing about but not that? I, or rather we, started attending an entirely new school in a new part of the province but I missed a lot because, as mentioned earlier, I became ill.
Somehow word must have got out that we were living in unsavory circumstances and Mom persuaded her brother and brother-in-law to come and get us. When they arrived, they asked us if we would like to come along with them.  We were more than willing, but one of the uncles said he had always felt bad about not talking to my father first, but he hadn’t been home.
Without a doubt there would have been a huge row if they had, and we would have ended up not going along with them then.
While reminiscing years later, Mom’s brother commented that I would fearfully look back from time to time, but no, we weren’t being followed.
So now is it better than a fairy tale? Not yet, not, yet, but just hang on. I soon made some dear friends and felt secure in the love of relatives and in the church we were attending, but this ole girl was carrying a lot of baggage with her that caused her to stumble more than once. 

 P.S. Please check out my book. (Link below.) If you want to escape from a troubled past and hope for a better future, this may be the most comforting book you will ever read, 

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.