Behind a Boarded Up Window

Some people you never forget, no matter how much muddy or swift flowing water runs under the bridge. YOU are one of those people. It's been months now since our contact was broken but I still think about you and pray for you from time to time. My heart is heavy. You or someone like you from that sex slave commune reached out to me, I tried to help, in weakness, I tried to do my little part but the contact was broken. I grieve for you knowing how desperately evil your 'masters' are. But what can we do when even the local police are in cahoots with the perpetrators? Thank you for being brave enough to open your hearts and share with me. I know several of you did after I gained your trust, but now I am left in the dark yet I can still pray. Have any of you been able to escape? What wouldn't I give to reconnect and have you call me Mommy, again?
Here's the article that got me thinking about you once more. XOXOX!!

Behind a Boarded Up Window

Good morning, dear one. Did you think I had forgotten you completely? At first, I was picturing you standing lonesomely by a small window and looking up at the stars, but then I remembered, you don’t even have that option.

Behind a boarded up window: never to see the cheery sunshine dappling the leaves and making the flowers to glow, never to feel the soft breeze against your skin or enjoy the scent of fresh new growth…

Did you think I have forgotten you? No, never. I am sorrowful that our connection was lost, and pray earnestly that it can be restored once again. I pray that you can feel Jesus’ Presence surrounding you and comforting you. I hope and pray that somehow you will be able to see this message. That would be so delightful!

And by posting this I am praying that others will become aware of the slavery that is going on behind closed doors. It is my longing and heartfelt desire that through united, fervent prayers girls like you will be set free both spiritually and physically.

Have I forgotten you and your companions that I think of as my beloved children? No never, not for a moment. You are in my heart and prayers. Someday, somehow Jesus will set you free.

Keep praying, and I will too. Oh, I do hope this message will get to you. Remember; always remember that I love you and that Jesus’ love is strong and eternal. Keep trusting in Him. ‘They’ can’t take that away.

XOXOX

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

No Time to Call the Vet

We just had a terrifying moment with our adorable, little puppy. I use an old pitcher little this with a more curved neck to water houseplants with than the one in the picture, and Cuddles got her head stuck in it. I tried to pull or twist it off, but that was impossible! Next, I grabbed a stone to break out an air hole for her. She had been calm til now but was beginning to panic, like me! I raced into the storage room and grabbed the vice grip but it seemed to take forever to chip pieces off that in-my-mind-too-durable vessel. But we did it, we did it, and Cuddles definitely wanted a reassuring moment of cuddling after that. What if our daughter hadn't noticed the puppy's predicament so quickly? What if she hadn't been there to hold her for me? God cares even about the little things.

Fog-Bog

The fog was thick like walls around
Impen'tratable and deep
And there was I so sick and sore
And too inclined to weep.

But move I must so slowly walked
With weary feet and mind,
The trail was slanting lower still
But I was feeling blind.

How long I plod this downward trek
I cannot think or say,
I longed to feel a hand in mine ,
A Guide to lead the way.

I dimly knew that God was kind
And won't forsake His own
But demons taunted in that mist
Which made me sigh and groan.

Yet when I felt all hope was gone
And I had lost the road
I weakly said "I'll not give up"
I'll trust in Christ my Lord. 

POST SCRIPT:
I'm standing now on Blessings' Peak
(An angel brought me there.)
Rainbows of hope swirl all around
The Lord God answers prayer.
Marilyn Friesen

One Wrong Decision

Dear Diary, Cara stared at the words with growing frustration, then anger. Why do I have to resort to pouring out my feelings out on a mere scrap of paper? Isn’t there anyone, anyone at all who cares and understands? She clutched at her hair. I sure blew it way back when I was a kid, but I didn’t know any better, did I? Or did I? She leaped up and paced back and forth in front of the darkened window of the cheap apartment building.

Dear Diary, She sat down and stared at the words once again, then picked up her pen. Memories came flooding back. From her viewpoint the most precious recollection of them all seemed to be enshrined in gold. I was so happy that summer when I was nine. Les and Bonny cared for me like a daughter. I know they cared even though I stressed them out many a time with my wild ways. But I blew it. I blew it! I chose not to stay, and every home since then has been worse in one way or another. I never knew it would be such a rocky road if I took my own way, but how can I ever get back to that peace and serenity I knew as a kid on the farm?

She pressed her fingers against her lips to keep them from trembling, but the tears pooling in her eyes couldn’t be so easily stooped. I even stooped to asking Les’ if they would take me in; let me find a job in their community, but no, of course not. It was too late. They had their own children to think about. They didn’t say so, but I knew they thought I might be a bad influence on them. And it’s true. I might.

She viciously tore the tear stained paper out of the notebook, ripped it in half, crumbled it, and tossed it on the floor. I’m not the same girl I was then. In some ways I am even worse. And, yeah, their children would be curious to know what I have gone through, and in a weak moment, I would tell them…and relish it.

Oh God what do I do about this longing in my breast, so dull and yet so real? I want a different life. I want to find that light at the end of the tunnel but there are so many boulders in the way. How will I ever find it? She lay her head down on the desk and wept.

Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew11:28

If this sounds like you, remember there is HOPE. Reach out to God and He will reach out to you. 

The Flood From a Child's Viewpoint (continued)

                Noah was begging them to find safety in the Ark because a flood was coming to drown all the bad people. Shaba didn’t need anyone to tell him what a flood was. He would never forget how some older boys had thrown him over a small waterfall and he had thrashed and screamed his way to shore. How he had survived he would never, ever know.

                “Shaba!” The barked command made Shaba’s knees buckle. Was it Mobid? No, but it was just as bad.  The crowd quickly parted as his dad shoved his way through and flung Shaba on the ground. A woman tittered nervously as Jakal thrashed him.

                A sharp cry came from the Ark’s doorway. Jakal rose and shook his black hair out of his eyes, glared at Noah then continued beating the lad.

                Another stern command came from above, and Raibo said later he thought for sure Noah and his sons were going to plunge into the crowd and break up the fight, but just then Jakal yanked Shabo to his feet and dragged him away. Raibo didn’t dare follow, he was sure Shaba would be killed anyway.

Nightmare World

We live in a nightmare world. I’m sure there are people right at this moment who are surfing the net while trying to block out terrible memories. Maybe they are hiding behind the shame of having been brutally beaten. Maybe they have been verbally abused so many times they half believe the lies that are told them. I know a little girl who is constantly being bullied. I try to help but what will be the long range results of such cruelty? I also know a woman who was physically abused as a child and it carried over into her first marriage. She managed to escape when he threatened to shoot her and the children, but the second marriage was just as bad in different ways. Are you caught in the same sort of trap and no one seems to care and understand?

What are you being called? Do you believe the lies? How have you been treated today, this last week or month? Are you the victim of an alcoholic or someone who is mentally ill? Are you too fearful or ashamed to admit it? Do you have anyone to go to that you feel safe with?

I’m not sitting in an ivory tower somewhere and tossing down bits of advice to you. I’ve been in the gutter also. I have felt the anger, the hatred and depression that comes from being molested. But I have also learned how to forgive and the healing that eventually comes with it. It wasn’t easy. I suffered emotionally for many years because of what happened, but now I am free. Now I want to reach out a helping hand to you and let you know there is a way of escape. There is hope and a light at the end of the tunnel.

To start with I’d like you to repeat these words at least ten times a day.

I am precious in the eyes of the Lord. I do not deserve to be abused. God does not want me to be abused. I am a worthwhile person.

We can’t see the future so from one day to the next it might not seem like anything is changing, but if you trust God to lead you, someday you will be able to look back and see that things have gotten better. And remember I am praying for you.

marilynfriesen.blogspot.com

Will We Be Lost? F-Forever?

Oh, I know I know, I really should write something brand new but hey, I really want to get this book finished, so creep yourself out for a moment by creeping down the dark, narrow hallways with Tayletha and her Mom.
 Tayletha took two, then three candles from a stash near the door. After such a harrowing experience she wanted the comfort of light surrounding her. The fosser saw them studying the map Cedric had made for them and looked over their shoulder.
      “I can draw you a quicker route,” he suggested.
         Lydda and Tayletha looked at each other. Should they agree?

Afraid in the Catacombs

Time for another quick peek into my upcoming novel. Around Smoldering Coals.  Two children and their mother are trying to find their way back to their home in the catacombs. This is part of what I added today, so I haven't had the time to do a whole lot of editing on it.

Tayletha took two, then three candles from a stash near the door. After such a harrowing experience she wanted the comfort of light surrounding her. The fosser saw them studying the map Cedric had made for them and looked over their shoulder.

“I can draw you a quicker route,” 

Lydda and Tayletha looked at each other. Then Lydda saw the exhaustion in her son's eyes.

“Where is it?”

He took the wax tablet and started to erase it. Tayletha snatched it back. “We don't know you! Our pateras made this map and it's good enough for us.”

When Is Daddy Coming Home

Part three of the story of Jason and Heidi which is based on a true happening from the 1500’s.

The curtain falls on Jason fleeing the city. I imagine him making his getaway after dark but his wife wasn’t too keen on the idea, let alone hiking along with him. After all she did have the children to care for, and who wants to be on the road going to who-knows-where?

               “Mama, when’s Papa coming home?” Heidi looked down at the little girl tugging at her skirt.