Wednesday, 5 December 2018

Mary's Missive

(Dear Diary);
I will always be grateful to my elderly Uncle Zachariah for teaching me to read and write that long ago summer when I was ten. There are some thoughts that are too personal; too profound to give voice to but they must be shared, and writing is the best way.
In all sincerity, Mary’am (That’s my Aramaic name)

Saturday, 1 December 2018

The Cops Are After Us!

  Is this Mary???
The Mary we know?


   Now, where did I leave my cell phone? Did I put it back in my purse? I’ve got to call
Mom. The pains are starting and we are still several miles away from Bethlehem.  Surely 
she will know what we should do. I am sure it is just false labour but it would be nice to 
get some advice from a--woman! 
        Joseph is exceeding the limit as it is, and is swerving in and out of traffic. Eeek! I
 see red and blue lights flashing!
       “Joseph slow down! Slow down! It’s the cops!”

Monday, 26 November 2018

The Secret Will Get Out!

     Mary'am crept quietly out of her room to write. The dew was cool and damp against her bare feet as she plodded softly through the grass to the stone bench near the almond trees.
    She carefully unrolled the parchment, then left it resting on the small, flat rock at her side while watching the sun slowly rise above the horizon. It was such a serenely, beautiful day, and all around tiny birds were chirping merrily.
   Now I will step out of the picture and let you quietly read over Mary'am's shoulder.

Dear Diary;
        I am getting a little rounder every day. Only I can tell but soon the secret will be out.
     While I write this Hana is sleepily getting dressed, and when she is ready we need to fill the water jugs at the well.
     While mothers are waiting to fill their vessels, I often gather the restless little ones around me for a story. It is so enjoyable! Will the mothers who used to be so friendly, snatch their children away from me after I show? Will they treat me as if I am unclean, and have leprosy?  Will I ever again hear Hadassah or Damaris lisp in their trilling voices,   “Mary’am, Mary’am, tell us a story! Tell us a story! You are the bestest story teller!”     Isaiah and Titus used to run up also, an' we would sit in the shade of the old sycamore tree. Even the clusters of aant’at, hushed their banter sometimes, although I can tell that some pretend not to listen!
     I really love telling the story of Ruth, but of course, it does not appeal to the boys. I am so glad she is part of my lineage!
   I wonder how Ruth would have felt if she was carrying the secret I am carrying. My, I would love to talk with her; I think she would so understanding.  

 Can you think of a story to share of when a friend in need was truly a friend indeed? Maybe your own sister did something really cool.   I'd love to hear about it in the comments section. 

Monday, 5 November 2018

A Real Live Angel!

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.comLook out May'am!
 What we know, but our innocent, young friend doesn't, is that she is about to plunge into a series of events that will drastically alter her future, and create waves of change throughout the centuries even to this day.
   Okay, I will duck out of the way, and let you observe for yourself how it is affecting her.

11 Nissan April 3rd

Dear Diary;
 My thoughts have been soaring heavenward with a yearning to be one with HaShem especially today because the sky shone like shining molten gold. The whole atmosphere seemed to be hushed as if it is standing on tiptoe in the Shekinah of Adonai, the glorious presence of the Lord of Lords. Many furlongs away the Sea of Galilee is rippling under this same glorious sunset. If it reminds me so much of Paradise here, what must it look like over the waves? I was lingering near our almond tree, which is shrouded with a thousand pink flowers, merged with white flowers. Over my arm hung a basket filled with eggs, since I had just finished collecting them from our sprightly laying hens. Then a dazzling dove swept by. It caught my attention. She was such a bright contrast to the beautiful horizon. As I gazed upon her, I wondered if perchance this would be the time I would see where her little fledglings were hidden. I have been intently watching her for some time now. I was also enjoying the fresh, invigorating breeze against my cheeks. It was sweetly scented with the fragrance of a million early flowers. Then a Voice seemed to float towards me. I don’t know how else to describe it. I looked around but saw no one. There was such a quietness, and calmness in the twilight stillness that I was not afraid; just mildly curious. While my eyes swept the glowing sky and dewy green landscape a marvelous Being appeared. He seemed to materialize out of thin air, but for some reason,
I was pleasantly intrigued rather than terrified. Then in angelic tones, this glorious creature, who was arrayed in raiment that dazzled like snow, spoke to me. “Hail, you are highly favored, the Lord is with you: you are blessed among woman.”

Tuesday, 2 October 2018

TWINS Re&United

NEWSFLASH: The website is updated!
A fascination with identical twins has been the story of my life. Don’t ask me why because I couldn’t tell you. Even though I had more than a half-dozen babies of my own, almost every single time I was hoping, even praying that I would be carrying twins. No luck. When I read about the remarkable, yea, even amazing traits and experiences separated twins share a spark kindled and I was on my way to exploring an area of pathos, heartache, joy and intrigue when a teenage mother has to give up her babies, or at least thinks she must relinquish one of them during the time a war is going on and her husband, who she hadn’t known very well has questionable ethics.
                Throw in the fact that she has to leave to a foreign country without her parents'

support and approval and has no idea why her soldier-husband isn’t getting in contact with her. Although she allows her best friend to care for one of the babies until “it’s safe to have them together again,” it is an agonizing decision.

    Here's my bio: 😼 How do you get a shy, dreamy-eyed girl's gift for writing to burst into flames? Just ask my sixth-grade teacher. She told me I had a 'flare for writing' and after that, there was no stopping me. To say I enjoy writing would be the understatement of the year. I get lost in it. Once while in my teens I was so involved in the book I was working on that the characters became more real than the people around me who seemed like cardboard creations. No, I haven't changed much.
    But I do have other loves including my precious husband of forty-plus years, our ten grandchildren, their parents, the dogs, especially Cuddles, and I thrive on gardening as well as running our bed and breakfast.  Having guests over and sharing food and conversation is the spice of life. But get me back to writing as soon as possible. 
    Oh, in case you haven't noticed: I love life!

Marilyn Friesen

Friday, 21 September 2018

A Walk Back in Time

Pleasant Memories are hovering near! We spent the most beautiful mini vacation in a medieval style village of Rye. But the delightful charms didn't begin when we disembarked from the train. Oh, no. The journey through bucolic landscapes was so intriguing. I had never dreamed there were so many 'meadows' with fluffy white sheep in what I had assumed was the crowded British Isles!  There were high embankments on either side of the railway tracks which didn't give for the greatest view all the time, but I did note how massive some of the trees were. (They don't grow deciduous trees like that here in northern Alberta.)
Rye here we come! Ever since I researched for my book Two Mothers, Twin Daughters, I fell in love with the coastal villages of England so you can be sure I was thrilled when the opportunity to explore one actually came my way!

If you ever plan to visit England, do stop in at Rye, It is most delightful. There is a towering---massive--which is the right word? stone gate over one of the roads. The pavements (sidewalks) are incredibly narrow in places, and the streets do not allow any room for passing! Don't forget you are in England, now, so do remember to drive on the left-hand side of the road.  What else can I say? Oh, yes, there are such lovely courtyards, and the roses were blooming most abundantly. The houses and many other buildings were very tall and antique looking, with moss covering them here and there.

Did I say this is a seacoast village?  Well, that is not quite accurate, 'cuz I never did see the sea from there. Way back before your time, or mine, either for that matter "Good Queen Bess" called it Royal Rye, but it did have a reputation. Ahem. Apparently, it was notorious for being a smugglers cove, although it sure seemed safe enough while we were there! Actually, in those days, it had been an island, but we couldn't tell.

I wanted to show you a picture of the Rye Lodge we stayed at but couldn't find one! Sorry!

If you are planning to put this on your bucket list, do take time to climb up to the steeple of that ancient church on the hill. You'll be so glad that you did! Be warned! It's quite a climb though! Starting off it looks innocent enough, but soon you'll be clambering up long ladders, and around narrow curves that are either banked with stone or wooden walls some so narrow you'll wonder if you'll be able to squeeze through all of them if they get any narrower!

Well, I was just informed that "Dad" wants to go, so better tie this up and HOPEFULLY find some compelling pictures to post with it.