tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12060010849217882082024-03-05T10:40:51.713-08:00 A Mennonite Muses Thoughts from a grandma, pet lover and gardener.Oh yes, and a writer, also!Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.comBlogger459125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-34466852825794456322019-01-31T18:28:00.002-08:002019-01-31T18:28:16.430-08:00When Dreams Come True<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">Oh, my the things that happen when I'm not watching. I posted this a while ago and forgot about it. Now, this evening, I was scrolling through old blog posts and came across it. What amazed me is how <b>pop</b>ular it was. I'll let you read through it but be informed this is <b>old</b> news. The books are already out, and there's ebooks available also. <br>
Note: Emily and Alice are twins that were separated as newborns.<br>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BHGC8PkLiYE/XFOlv0SP7ZI/AAAAAAAAqrg/zi0CC_JlkcczHXv2m9hJoQfMKzM-hWaDACLcBGAs/s1600/Identical%2BTwins%2BEmily%2Band%2BAlice%2BHaynes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BHGC8PkLiYE/XFOlv0SP7ZI/AAAAAAAAqrg/zi0CC_JlkcczHXv2m9hJoQfMKzM-hWaDACLcBGAs/s320/Identical%2BTwins%2BEmily%2Band%2BAlice%2BHaynes.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 24px;"><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I dreamed I had a twin, Mommy.</span></strong><br>
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<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Alice was just a little girl but she had always wished to have a sister</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"just her size." Sometimes she even dreamed about it. Once her</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">dream was so vivid that Alice told her Mommy.</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I dreamed I had a twinnie, Mommy."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Alice didn't notice the uneasy look on her mother's face when she responded.</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Oh, was it a nice dream?"</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I'm not sure. In someways I liked it."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Why wouldn't you like to dream that, honey?"</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Alice's blue eyes filled with tears.</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I wish I had a twin, Mommy. I REALLY do."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Margaret's face grew pale but she kept her voice even. "Why don't you tell me about your dream,sweetheart."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></strong><br>
</td></tr></tbody></table></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/when-dreams-come-true_31.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-89939273847114137662019-01-31T17:53:00.001-08:002019-01-31T17:53:56.052-08:00When Dreams Come True<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">Oh, my the things that happen when I'm not watching. I posted this a while ago and forgot about it. Now, this evening, I was scrolling through old blog posts and came across it. What amazed me is how <b>pop</b>ular it was. I'll let you read through it but be informed this is <b>old</b> news. The books are already out, and there's ebooks available also. <br>
Note: Emily and Alice are twins that were separated as newborns.<br>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BHGC8PkLiYE/XFOlv0SP7ZI/AAAAAAAAqrg/zi0CC_JlkcczHXv2m9hJoQfMKzM-hWaDACLcBGAs/s1600/Identical%2BTwins%2BEmily%2Band%2BAlice%2BHaynes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="1600" height="224" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BHGC8PkLiYE/XFOlv0SP7ZI/AAAAAAAAqrg/zi0CC_JlkcczHXv2m9hJoQfMKzM-hWaDACLcBGAs/s640/Identical%2BTwins%2BEmily%2Band%2BAlice%2BHaynes.jpg" width="640"></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 24px;"><strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I dreamed I had a twin, Mommy.</span></strong><br>
<br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Alice was just a little girl but she had always wished to have a sister</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"just her size." Sometimes she even dreamed about it. Once her</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">dream was so vivid that Alice told her Mommy.</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I dreamed I had a twinnie, Mommy."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Alice didn't notice the uneasy look on her mother's face when she responded.</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Oh, was it a nice dream?"</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I'm not sure. In someways I liked it."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"Why wouldn't you like to dream that, honey?"</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Alice's blue eyes filled with tears.</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">"I wish I had a twin, Mommy. I REALLY do."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";">Margaret's face grew pale but she kept her voice even. "Why don't you tell me about your dream,sweetheart."</span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></strong><br>
<strong><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"></span></strong><br>
</td></tr></tbody></table></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/when-dreams-come-true.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-3928775352880760412019-01-29T15:31:00.000-08:002019-01-29T15:39:01.769-08:00The Day I Felt Like Winnie the Pooh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-YJMrYgMGE/T4mP0iBy6fI/AAAAAAAAAGI/BVFoKREka7c/s1600/Buff_Chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o-YJMrYgMGE/T4mP0iBy6fI/AAAAAAAAAGI/BVFoKREka7c/s640/Buff_Chickens.jpg" width="640"></a></td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a></h2>
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CHICKEN CHATTER</h2>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">OK, I LIKE CHICKENS, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I WANT TO LIVE WITH THEM! </span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Have you ever heard that old saying, "The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get?" Well, one day "behinder" wasn't enough. I was stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was I stopped short, but I was locked up behind a closed door. In a small chicken house to be exact. </span><br>
</td></tr></tbody></table></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-day-i-elt-like-winnie-pooh.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-78294740523102802632019-01-28T11:23:00.001-08:002019-01-28T11:43:28.942-08:00Not So Dusty Discoveries!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I didn't know saying a simple "yes" could lead to such huge challenges and such a dramatic change in my life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> You would think that being swept back into the dirty thirties would be dry, distressing and dreadful, but I'm finding it fascinating! When your second cousins gang up on you to write the story of their fathers who were orphaned at an early age, what do you do? Do you say "Nah, that's not my type of writing?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Well, I tried that, but "repented" a couple years later, and you know what, their story is not a dusty manuel in spite of the setting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Would <i>you</i> let your child have a badger for a pet? What if the badger leaps out of a loft and kills a sixty pound pig? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Did <i>you</i> know that one-room-schoolhouse kids used to race down to the creek at recess time to go swimming then rush back more sweaty than ever when the first bell rings?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> I'm sure having a lot of fun writing this book and learning some amazing stuff.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">But really, don't you wish I was working on it rather than rambling away on a blog page?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">While you patiently wait to learn more about these seven orphan children, why not meander over to my website. There's more of my work there. </span><br />
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-22396623247172201072019-01-27T17:53:00.002-08:002019-01-27T17:56:21.344-08:00Do You Make a Difference?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-87028332790260656132019-01-26T22:03:00.001-08:002019-01-26T22:03:31.367-08:00How's Yours?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a><br /></div>
Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-45631912521179682602019-01-26T13:37:00.000-08:002019-01-26T14:26:17.867-08:00The Walls Will Come Down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Another installment in the story Terror and Tranquility </h3>
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We are going to be swept back in time to the banks of the swollen Jordan. The immense multitude of Israelite's have marched solemnly across although I am sure more than one boy may have picked up a stone to fling at the mighty wall of water. Fearful, tearful faces have lined the walls of the proud city of Jericho wondering, and worrying whatever is going on. Now let us get back to Rehab's viewpoint. If you are confused as to what this is all about, go back a page or two and that will help.</div>
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Rehab returned to the rooftop and visited long with the stalwart, young men. Her cheeks burned however, when she thought of how shamelessly she had flirted with the soldiers downstairs.It hadn't bothered in her the least at other times, but now followers of the <i>true God</i> had come to her for assistance.<i>I would never want them to see me acting like that!</i><br>
After the spies safely returned to their own people, Rehab had made haste to tell all her relatives that they would be protected when the enemy attacked if they would find shelter in her apartment. They took her at her word.<br>
</div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-walls-will-come-down.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-27832028187146140442019-01-21T11:32:00.002-08:002019-01-21T11:39:28.579-08:00Increasing Terror and Tranquility<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>This is a continuation of the true story I have been posting recently. </i></span><br>
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Even Rahab watched in terror as all the Israelities folded their tents, loaded their belongings and yougest chidren on to carts, and merged into one long and solemn line that seemed to reach to the end of the earth.<br>
</div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/increasing-terror-and-tranquility.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-51966482197031808512019-01-20T16:39:00.002-08:002019-01-21T09:11:46.309-08:00Who Hid the Spies?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
O.K. Here we go... Did you read the first parts? This is <u>More of the Terror and Tranquility Series</u><br>
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<i> All the armed forces I have ever heard of come unencumbered by family.but these men have their women and offspring along as through they would never consider the possibility of failure in their mission.</i><br>
Rehab found herself with much time on her hands. <i>I will occupy myself with my spinning, although we possibly have very few days left to live.</i> <i>If I am to die, I hope they kill me quickly so I need not suffer over much. I wonder what it is like in the Hereafter.</i><br>
Rehab went to the rooftop to access her winter's supply of flax and saw that there was more than enough to keep her busy spinning and weaving for many days to come.<br>
Just then a gentle knock sounded at the door. Rehab would have missed it had her ears not been keenly tuned to sounds in her entryway. She was used to all sorts of raucous noises in the street below.<br>
She ran lightly down the stairs and peered through a crack in the door.<br>
"Thou art here!" she cried.<br>
</div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/frantically-searching-for-spies.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-1430457503859253012019-01-19T07:15:00.003-08:002019-01-19T07:15:41.175-08:00The Strangely Quiet Enemy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
(Continued) That was last week. Every day since men had poured in, too distraught to enjoy her fine cooking or anything else. Every night, after they had fallen into a fitful sleep,she would creep up to the roof of her house, which was crouched on top of the city wall, Rehab would rest her elbows on the solid stone structure to peer out of her casement at the orderly multitude far below.<br />
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<i>Oh that I could be numbered with them, </i>she sighed. I <i>know that they will overtake Jericho and destroy it, and many other cities besides.It is not death I fear. Life hath little meaning for such as I.But if I had a choice, I would rather live if I could live as they. That would be blessed in deed.</i><br />
<i> </i> The customers dwindled to almost nothing in the coming weeks. No man was going around doing futile things with such a strange and dreadful enemy camping on their doorsteps.<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdiaUYMtP1Q/XEM7D6svHuI/AAAAAAAAqng/PUmSXuHTcmEc-zp7R7WR9NKpnDxptgJuwCLcBGAs/s1600/eastern%2Bwoman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="126" data-original-width="78" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SdiaUYMtP1Q/XEM7D6svHuI/AAAAAAAAqng/PUmSXuHTcmEc-zp7R7WR9NKpnDxptgJuwCLcBGAs/s400/eastern%2Bwoman.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
to be continued...<br />
For more writing by this author go to <a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a></div>
Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-75153255243738517542019-01-14T15:18:00.001-08:002019-01-14T15:34:58.756-08:00The Jobless Woman Gets a Reprieve<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #38761d;">Mary is desperate. No one will welcome her in their home or business, even to do the most menial tasks. How will she keep from starving or being molested if she keeps roaming the streets? </span></h2>
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I was so happy when Yeshua took me aside<br>
, and asked if I would take a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talitha</i> into my home.<br>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gV71H_jSZQ0/XD0YiY-DeYI/AAAAAAAAqnI/Ej2buQIyTfUVDfXlAnxEMg7PhFRAUgG-gCLcBGAs/s1600/Scared%2Byoung%2Bwoman%2Bcovering%2Bface%2Bwith%2Bafghan%2Bscarf-1.psd%2BTayletha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gV71H_jSZQ0/XD0YiY-DeYI/AAAAAAAAqnI/Ej2buQIyTfUVDfXlAnxEMg7PhFRAUgG-gCLcBGAs/s320/Scared%2Byoung%2Bwoman%2Bcovering%2Bface%2Bwith%2Bafghan%2Bscarf-1.psd%2BTayletha.jpg" width="247"></a></div>
</div></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-jobless-woman-gets-reprieve.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-16514064456817095042019-01-05T07:40:00.001-08:002019-01-05T07:46:00.980-08:00Golden Retriever Puppies Newborn to 12 weeks time-lapse video<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<br />
We've got the sweetest puppies at our place. (New year's babies born yesterday and today.)They aren't goldies but if they are as adorable as their mother, they will all be winners. The mother is extremely cute, smart and healthy. She looks very much like an Italian Sheep dog or Great Pyrenesee but not such a bulky coat.<a href="https://youtu.be/Yo2Vvy86wsc" target="_blank">https://youtu.be/Yo2Vvy86wsc</a></div>
Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-7115087753056343982019-01-04T09:34:00.000-08:002019-01-04T09:34:06.443-08:00The Young Woman Who Wasn't Allowed Any Job<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It must have been a dreadful time for many in religious communities that were low on compassion. Mary was one of those 'unfortunates' who was in an occupation openly frowned on by the religious authorities but secretly supported by the very same people. For reason unknown to us, this young harlot was exposed, and the Pharisees were determined that Jesus (Yeshua) would make sure she was stoned. Here is an excerpt from Jesus' life from His mother's viewpont.<br />
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When the Pharisees exposed Mary, hoping she would be<br />
stoned,Yeshua had rescued her from certain death, but since<br />
then she had had no work, no work at all.<br />
She had hunted all over town for a respectable job,<br />
but everyone looked down on someone</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -62.85pt; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
who had been a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zonah.</i><br />
It made no difference that she had not</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -62.85pt; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
wanted to be one. It made no difference that she had no<br />
choice;either that or beg,<br />
and who would toss coins to a<br />
beautiful young <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talitha</i>: one that was obviously in perfect<br />
health?</div>
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When she was not looking for work, Mary frequently</div>
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trudged behind the Rabboni, Yeshua,<br />
at a respectful distance. </div>
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She esteemed Him very highly, but did not</div>
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feel worthy to be seen in His <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shekinah</i>.<br />
But then one evening that had all changed. She got out</div>
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her alabaster box of rich ointment<br />
and cradled it between her hands.<br />
It had taken her a year of careful saving<br />
to purchase the rare perfume.<br />
She knew she could sell it for a good price,</div>
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and survive a little longer, but that is not<br />
what she wanted to</div>
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do with it.<br />
“Yeshua,” she whispered, as the tears slid down her</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -62.85pt; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
cheeks,” Will you understand what I am trying to do?”<br />
As she plodded along the empty street,<br />
she had the alabaster ointment carefully concealed<br />
within the folds of her garment.<br />
Far in the distance she saw a group of men<br />
strolling towards their supper appointment.<br />
She had overheard one of the Hibernim inviting</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -62.85pt; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
Yeshua and His disciples for a meal,<br />
and was determined to offer this rebbe,<br />
this healer, this most wonderful friend,<br />
her supreme gift in gratitude<br />
for what He had done for her.</div>
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Her heart squeezed with fear even while her feet took</div>
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her closer to the gleaming mansion and she saw the men</div>
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disappear one by one through the enormous doors.<br />
What if ‘her’ Hibernim was within those portals?<br />
She knew it was most probable.</div>
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The porter had left the door slightly ajar to let in the</div>
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evening breezes. Mary slipped in, and followed the sounds of</div>
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deep, muted voices. They led her to where men were dining</div>
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on couches in a massive dining room.<br />
Suddenly she saw Him, and she had eyes for Yeshua only.</div>
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With a cry on her lips, she hurried over and sank to her knees.</div>
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Yeshua,” she whispered. “Yeshua, Yeshua!” Oh that He will</div>
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know how grateful I am for all He has done for me!</div>
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As she opened the alabaster box for the first time, a sweet</div>
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Perfume permeated the air. Someone sniffed deprecatingly and</div>
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she heard a critical comment or two but they barely registered.</div>
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The tears of adoration and gratitude that flowed down her</div>
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cheeks washed away the dust from His feet. With reverential</div>
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tenderness Mary lifted each one, and dabbed at them with her</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -62.85pt; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
flowing locks until no dust smudges remained.</div>
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There was a lull in the conversation, and Mary looked up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -62.85pt; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
Yeshua rested His hand lightly on her ankle-length hair, and</div>
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then tilted her chin with one finger so that she would look</div>
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directly at Him.</div>
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“Thy sins are forgiven.” His voice was so rich, and kindly.</div>
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She gazed rapturously into His eyes until He spoke again.</div>
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“Thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace.”</div>
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Somehow Mary found her way to the door,<br />
clutching the broken alabaster box to her bosom.<br />
She walked back to her house as one in a dream,<br />
and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she<br />
would follow Him where ever He went, and</div>
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serve Him with her whole heart.</div>
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Does this sound like a time in history you would like to know more about? If so,<br />
you may order the book Mary's Diary<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a> on line from my website.</div>
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-76039622314701865432019-01-01T12:37:00.000-08:002019-01-01T12:37:28.419-08:00Through Roman Streets at Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Preview of the future book Around Smoldering Coals</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Now that the new year is upon us wander over to my website and see what I have to offer. <a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Fhtlckfbqw/T4cvxnk63rI/AAAAAAAAAFI/DAE6O-nVW_I/s1600/stone-foot-thumb5283217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Fhtlckfbqw/T4cvxnk63rI/AAAAAAAAAFI/DAE6O-nVW_I/s320/stone-foot-thumb5283217.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.49in;">Talitha slunk down until she was barely eye-level with the top row of bricks, and saw the boys conceal themselves in the deeper shadows. She wondered briefly how children could survive as beggars, but her own concerns snuffed out the thought.</span></div>
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Just then, the sentries’ flame flashed high against the black night sky</div>
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and she shrank back. Talitha hardly dared to breathe as she listened to the receding footfalls until they were indecipherable then leaned over to get the attention of the beggars.</div>
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“Yeled,” She beckoned then watched them stiffen and look around then up before spotting her. The whites of their eyes looked strange in the shadowy darkness.</div>
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“Come here!” she called in a piercing whisper. They shrank back and appeared to be talking to each other.</div>
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“Come here!” she pleaded.</div>
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“What did you call us?” the taller boy, who looked to be about eleven, demanded.</div>
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Talitha’s cheeks reddened.</div>
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“Yeled,” she confessed. That was the Jewish word for 'boy'. <i>I need to be more careful to speak Latin. Can't give anyone any reason to suspect we’re followers of the Messiah.</i></div>
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“Well, what ya want?”</div>
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“Show us a secret way through the city.” <i>I’m sure they know their way around everywhere.</i></div>
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“Why should we?” The young lad never relaxed his stance for an instant. He was ever on the alert, his eyes darting this way and that and in every direction.</div>
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Talitha took the loaf of bread from Stephanos and showed it to them. “We'll pay you!”</div>
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The younger vagrant leapt to his feet, lithe as one of the scrawny alley cats and gazed up at them. Talitha wondered if his mouth was drooling at the sight of so much food. She watched intently as he turned his head to say something into his brother’s ear.</div>
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Out of the corner of her eye, Talitha saw an orange glow in the distance. The torchbearer had turned and was coming back! The older boy caught the movement of her head, and in an instant, both vanished. Talitha and her small brother once again flattened themselves against the roof of the two-story building.</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“I'm cold,” Stephanos’ words were barely more audible than a sigh, but then his teeth started clattering. Talitha pulled him close against her body for warmth and tucked her knitted palla around them both. They listened, breathing as shallowly as possible as the heavy footfalls below them became more distinct.</div>
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“Where are those thieving rascals?” the guard growled. “They’re usually right around this here court-yard making a nuisance of themselves.” Talitha felt herself tighten up. The harsh sound of his sword striking against stone made her cringe. Finally, the light disappeared and the sound of marching feet pounding along the cobblestone street diminished.</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Talitha slid into a sitting position and then froze. <i>What is that scratching sound? Was it a nasty old rat?</i> She hoped it was the boys.</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Talitha looked carefully around. In the pallid moonlight, the head and shoulders of two shaggy-haired boys were silhouetted with <i>nothing</i> <i>below them. </i>She gasped before realizing they were peering through some sort of trapdoor to the roof.</div>
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“Come with me,” the older boy beckoned. “We’ll git you outta this court-yard, an' where ya wanna be.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Talitha bit her lip. <i>As much as I want to trust them, how can I be sure they’ll take us where we want to go?</i> They had disappeared into the denser darkness of the ‘hole’ but the older one poked his head back up once more.</div>
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“Well?” He demanded. “Ain’t ya coming? If you are, we must skedaddle. We have a long ways to go before first light.”</div>
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“How do you know where to take us,” Talitha whispered as she followed her younger brother down the fraying rope ladder.</div>
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“Ain’t you one of them <i>Christianus</i>?” he asked.</div>
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Talitha's grip weakened. “What makes you ask that?”</div>
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“I knowed yer voice and that wine-colored palla you wear. We seen you before. Yer one of those pale-skins from the catacombs, aren'tcha? We seen you buyin' bread from that thar baker.”</div>
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In the dim light, Talitha saw how he reached back to steady Stephanos. “We know there is a fish symbol on the baker’s doorpost where we spotted you but the big roses haven't seen it. They don’t know that he's a <i>Christianus</i>: not yet! Course others buy from him also.”</div>
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Talitha carefully climbed down after the disembodied voice somewhere ahead of her. “You-you won’t tell on that baker will you?”</div>
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“No way,” The younger boy piped up for the first time. “He gived us his leftover bread jist before dark. That is if we don't come around too often.”</div>
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“I think he says that because he don't want all the other beggars buggin’ him,” the older one remarked.</div>
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“Or maybe he feeds some of the others on the days you're not supposed to come,” Talitha suggested.</div>
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“Quiet. We will have to cut through the courtyard. No one’s awake this late at night but you gotta be careful.”</div>
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“’Cept the night watchman,” Little Brother reminded him.</div>
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“Shh! But that’s not ‘til later. He is a bumbling old fool who drinks too much and won’t give us a lick o' trouble.”</div>
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Talitha’s heart pounded as she raced lightly after the vagabonds. How do I know these beggars can be trusted? Maybe they intend to lead us on a wild pig chase until we are exhausted then steal the bread and run. I’m weary already. I wonder how Stephanos is doing. I have not heard a peep from him for a long time. She clutched her small brother’s hand when they slid along with their backs against a wall. She almost stumbled over a sleeping body or two huddled in doorways and after that watched her steps more carefully.</div>
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As they crept around the edge of the court-yard, Talitha could soon make out the crouching form of the watchman. “Who goes there?” He muttered sleepily.</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“You hush up, ole Barrah,” the elder brother scolded. “It is only Broken Nose and his kid brother, so go back to sleep. You seen us lotza times.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“But who’s with yah?” he slurred while hunching himself up and peered bleary-eyed at the foursome.</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“Just some kids that got lost. I’m showing them this here shortcut to their home.”</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.25in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.49in;">
“Yous be gone with you before you wake someone an’ I git blamed.”</div>
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Broken Nose twisted the wooden bar on a heavy plank door and cautiously peered out. He saw no one save for some beggars that he knew huddled in the archway. They appeared to be fast asleep. He beckoned to the others to follow him. They trailed silently behind him for a while before he spoke again. “We will soon be going down three crooked alleyways, and then will dart across the main intersection. It is not safe, of course, but there ain’t no other way. If you follow closely, we should make it. Do what I do. I'll show you a hedge to hide under ‘til the next leg o' the journey.”</div>
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-40488647046343917422018-12-30T19:11:00.001-08:002018-12-30T19:19:34.438-08:00Have You Ever Lost a Penny?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This is an excerpt from the book I was telling you about last week. </div>
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The picture isn't accurate of course because this wdding took place centuries ago and it was a disaster for the bride to lose one penny! This isn't the only book available at <a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a> either. I hope you find one you like.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Poor Michal! She was frantic with worry today. Raddai</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">return by nightfall. For the first time in their short married life</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Michal was dreading his return.</span><br>
</div></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2018/12/have-you-ever-lost-penny.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-89687004695889025162018-12-22T02:42:00.000-08:002018-12-22T03:01:28.362-08:00Mary is Afraid<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Hurry, hurry, hurry! </span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">You are running out of time! Only a few more days and the deal is off!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Buy one book and get <i>any other one free </i>from now until Christmas Boxing Day. Got it? Here's your chance for a <b>free </b>book but the offer is off at midnight on the 26th.</span><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Run over to my website and see what grabs your attention.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">The following is an excerpt from my "Christmas book.'</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nt8B8mo31UE/UGobsSVkFVI/AAAAAAAAA1s/aJeme8zfouk/s1600/1131210151A2H48H.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nt8B8mo31UE/UGobsSVkFVI/AAAAAAAAA1s/aJeme8zfouk/s320/1131210151A2H48H.jpg" width="240"></a> <a href="http://www.marilynhistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynhistoricalnovels.com</a></h4>
Mary has gone to visit her Aunt Elisabeth, but in spite of all the enjoyable times, she worried much about how the man she was engaged to was going to treat her now that she was pregnant. The worst he could do was have her stoned. Sometimes Mary's throat would ache with anxiety.<br>
</div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2018/12/mary-is-afraid.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-6973488611526162722018-12-21T07:50:00.000-08:002018-12-21T08:00:48.200-08:00What Will Happen to the Twins?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">With bombs destroying nearby streets, air raid sirens screaming, and blackout curtains compulsory, Birmingham, England is a fearful place to be, but for a pregnant teenage war bride fleeing to Canada to be with her husband is a frightening option. </span></span></h3>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Sailing on a ship with submarines lurking nearby makes her uneasy, but so do more personal fears. Does Randall still love her in spite of the fact she's already pregnant? Will her parents ever forgive her for marrying him? Will he be furious to find out she is expecting twins? Will it help if she gave one up for adoption since he doesn't know she is carrying two? </span></span></h3>
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<span style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">Later she discovers that he had been deported from the army for a reason no one is talking about and soon after arriving home ends up in jail also for a mystifying reason!</span><i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i></span></h3>
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Grace has big problems but there is hope.<br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial narrow" , "sans-serif"; font-size: large;"> Two Mothers, Twin Daughters is the first in a series called Marita's Misery. From now 'til the 24th of December, you may get two books for the price of one. If you send me a copy of your proof of purchase I will personally reimburse you<i>. (stevenme@hotmail.ca)</i> For more books by this author go to </span><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial narrow" , "sans-serif"; font-size: large;">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</span></h2>
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-6522201236853523532018-12-18T13:45:00.000-08:002018-12-18T13:45:11.417-08:00Oh, Mary, What Will Happen to You?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We have been neglecting our sweet, Mary's diary lately, and she has her own troubles. Let's see what they are.<br>
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29 Nissan</div>
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April 21</div>
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Dear Diary;</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With tears in my eyes, I must admit this has been a low time<br>
</div></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2018/12/oh-mary-what-will-happen-to-you.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-29585808701026307332018-12-11T19:59:00.001-08:002018-12-11T20:05:55.185-08:00Angelic Rescue! A True Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been intrigued with angels, and have often wondered how I would respond if I actually saw one.<br />
All through the night, the snow must have fallen softly, because this morning there was a luscious layer covering the gray, muted landscape. For some reason, the gentle beauty made me think of hoarfrost on a day when the sky is a bright, clear blue. Surely an angels wings would sparkle like hoar frosty diamonds!<br />
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www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</div>
No, I have never actually seen an angel in all its glory, but I have a precious memory of when one came to my aid. Our oldest daughter was just a wee tot when this happened. The stairs leading down to the basement of the house we were living in at the time were rotting, so needed to be replaced. They were removed in the evening and the brand new ones would be installed first thing in the morning. That gaping hole made me uneasy.<br />
During the night I woke up to the pitter patter of little feet. Our baby was looking for our room! I leapt up to go to her, but she had walked past our bedroom and over to the basement doorway. I hurried over and brought her to safety.<br />
But later that I realized I couldn't have possibly gotten to her on time. She had stepped into mid-air and was being held up by an angel until I could reach her. Oh, Audrey, I wish you could remember this, and tell me what it was like to be held in an angel's arms!<br />
Now it's your turn.<br />
If you want to share an angelic experience privately on Hang-Outs let me know. in the comments section/Let's rejoice in each other's experiences of heavenly encounters especially now when it is so close to Christmas..<br />
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-68043005811275711192018-12-05T16:33:00.003-08:002018-12-05T16:33:26.133-08:00Mary's Missive<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -2.85pt;">(Dear Diary);</span><br>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 19px;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 19px;">In all sincerity, <i>Mary’am </i>(That’s my Aramaic name)</span><br>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fg3iVN1i4o4/XAgERqfMgDI/AAAAAAAAqcQ/chsLvigxF_YER1lcbYPKuu1_AEYNlvEWgCLcBGAs/s1600/Gentle%2BElderly%2BMan%2B%25282014_02_24%2B14_58_20%2BUTC%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="80" data-original-width="120" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fg3iVN1i4o4/XAgERqfMgDI/AAAAAAAAqcQ/chsLvigxF_YER1lcbYPKuu1_AEYNlvEWgCLcBGAs/s400/Gentle%2BElderly%2BMan%2B%25282014_02_24%2B14_58_20%2BUTC%2529.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2018/12/marys-missive.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-55999150364416432082018-12-01T15:51:00.000-08:002018-12-01T15:51:35.398-08:00The Cops Are After Us!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "edwardian script itc"; font-size: 16pt;"> Is this Mary???</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "edwardian script itc"; font-size: 16pt;">The Mary we know?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;"> Now, where did I leave my cell phone? Did I put it back in my purse? I’ve got to call</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">Mom. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">The pains are </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">starting and we are still several miles away from </span><city><place><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">Bethlehem</span></place></city>. Surely </div>
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she will know <span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">what we should do. </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">I am sure it is just false labour but it would be nice to </span><br>
<span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">get </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">some </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">advice from a--</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">woman! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;"> Joseph is exceeding the limit as it is, and is swerving in and out of traffic. Eeek! I</span><br>
<span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;"> see red and blue </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;">lights flashing!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic"; font-size: 10pt;"> “Joseph slow down! Slow down! It’s the cops!”</span><br>
</div></div><a href="http://mennonitemuses.blogspot.com/2018/12/the-cops-are-after-us.html#more">Read more »</a>Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-9910951616836351282018-11-26T18:33:00.000-08:002018-11-27T13:11:47.488-08:00The Secret Will Get Out!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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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.<br />
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.<br />
Now I will step out of the picture and let you quietly read over Mary'am's shoulder.<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";">Dear Diary;</span></b></div>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am getting a little rounder every day. Only I can tell but soon <b style="text-indent: 5.7pt;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";">the secret will be out.</span></b><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";"> While I write this Hana is sleepily getting dressed, and when she is ready we need to fill the water jugs at the well.</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";"> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aant’at</i>, hushed their banter sometimes, although I can tell that some pretend not to listen!</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";"> 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!</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";"> 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 </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus";">she would so understanding. </span></b><br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Can you</span> 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. </h3>
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<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a></div>
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-15829352160123834812018-11-05T12:09:00.003-08:002018-11-05T12:09:36.364-08:00A Real Live Angel!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><strong>Look out May'am!</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><strong> </strong>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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"> Okay, I will duck out of the way, and let you observe for yourself how it is affecting her.</span><br />
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11 Nissan April 3rd<br />
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Dear Diary;<br />
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,<br />
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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.”</div>
Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-18560155336535646342018-11-02T16:49:00.002-07:002018-11-02T16:49:13.075-07:00Did Mary Learn to Read??!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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hold? Shalom, Mary'am<br />
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206001084921788208.post-24027477766177045692018-10-02T09:28:00.002-07:002018-10-02T09:28:47.166-07:00TWINS Re&United<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
NEWSFLASH: The website is updated!<a href="http://www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com/" target="_blank">www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</a>:<br />
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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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Throw in the fact that she has to leave to a foreign country without her parents'<o:p></o:p></div>
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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.<br />
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<span style="text-transform: uppercase;">ALTHOUGH THIS BOOK USED TO BE CALLED TWO MOTHER’S TWIN DAUGHTERS. I IMPROVED AND EXPANDED IT SO MUCH THAT IT IS NOW DIVIDED INTO TWO BOOKS. THE SEQUEL IS MORE THE TWINS STORY; HOW THEY COPE WITH THE JOY AND TURMOIL OF GETTING REACQUAINTED AFTER BEING SEPARATED SO LONG AND THE FIRST BOOK IS MAINLY ABOUT THE MOTHERS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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Oh, in case you haven't noticed: I love life!</div>
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<b>Marilyn Friesen</b></div>
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<b>www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com</b></div>
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Marilyn Friesenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348873781764850809noreply@blogger.com0