Showing posts with label separation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label separation. Show all posts

Friday, 19 May 2017


RECALL!! Did you order a copy of Two Mothers, Twin Daughters and find that some chapters had been duplicated? If this is your experience please send the copy to me and I will replace it free of charge. (Meet me on Hangouts for my address.)

Two mothers fleeing the British Isles during World War Two. Why does one worry about being a war bride, while the other one, who is married to a widower, seem more content? Why does Grace, the younger one, give one, but only one of her twin daughters away? Why was Grace's husband sent home from the war? What will it be like leaving a city in England while bombs are exploding and submarines lurking, to settle in a Canadian wilderness? What will happen to the identical twins? How will they cope if, or rather when, they find out they have been separated as newborns? 
Book One of the Grace's Dilemma Series.

Check back from time to time and you will find out when the revised version is ready. Yes, it will be better than ever.

Thursday, 10 March 2016

Better Than a Fairy Tale? It's Getting Closer

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 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 staying put.
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, 8 March 2016

Better Than a Fairy Tale? Well Not Yet

Okay, I promised to tell more of my life-story so here goes.
So here I was just a young teenager with my heart torn and bleeding. I didn’t know it at the time, but that impassive indifference between me and the pastor of the church we had always attended had started a rift.
Things didn’t get better, right away, they worsened. Soon I was facing the worse day of my life, and that is not a trite statement! I still think it probably was, and it became a pivotal point in my journey. Dad asked, no, rather expected me to go along with him on one of his numerous electrical trips to far flung communities. I had gone along before with a certain amount of trepidation because of what he had attempted to do to me in the past. (Ya, and had done when I was younger.)
So here I was in some little farmhouse in the middle of Who-Knows-Where and I walked into the pale, nondescript kitchen, and stopped. They are talking about me. I froze. Dad was talking about giving me away, abandoning me like an unwanted kitten or puppy. Oh, sure, it was called fostering, but I didn’t think of it that way. I just knew he wanted to tear me away from the only family I knew and loved.

I don’t remember how I arrived there, but suddenly found myself in the woods across the graveled road with tall, very tall fir trees surrounding me. To say I bawled my eyes out isn’t trite, either. Don’t know how long I stayed there, but common sense told me I had to go back eventually, so I did. No one had missed me.
I wandered around, looking into the spare bedroom, etc. and wondered if this would be my new home.
Time was moving along so I looked in on ‘them’ in the kitchen. They were still talking, but I got the drift of it, the farm wife didn’t think it would be a good idea to take me in. I didn’t linger to hear more.
The news was too little, and too late. The damage was done. I went to the car and sooner or later Dad joined me. We drove off leaving my innocent childhood behind.

 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, 

Monday, 7 March 2016

Better Than A Fairy Tale

Do you want to hear a story that is so marvelous that you’ll think I made it up? I know for a fact that it is true ‘cuz it happened to me over forty years ago and the results ripple right down to the present.

Okay, where shall I start? Guess what, I have something in common with a lot of you. I come from a broken home. I know the anguish of seeing a marriage torn apart right in front of my eyes and feeling the effects in my own soul because it was my Mom and Dad.

Ours was one of those old-fashioned homes where you didn’t tell others what was going on behind closed doors: gotta put on a good front, y’know. So what was the result? Pain and heartache and groping in despair.

But I did reach out: I was not as reserved as some of my siblings so talked to our pastor, or at least tried too. He listened impassively, or so it seemed. I got more desperate: our home was falling apart right in front of my eyes, Mom and Dad didn’t love one another anymore, and I and my hapless brothers and sisters were caught in the vortex.

So I did what only a writer would do, I put my heartache in words, in poem form actually, and gave it to him when I had the opportunity. What did he do? He gave it back and said: “that’s very nice.” Did it help? Nope. (Wish I still had that poem.)

I see that this is going to end up being a whole lot longer than I had expected, but I promise you it does have a happy ending. What a trite word. Come on give me a better one, joyous, blessed, comforting,-- gratifying? No one word seems to describe what I went, and am going through.

But I know you have places to go, and things to do, so stay tuned until tomorrow, and yes, I’ll keep writing while you face your day.

 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,

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

After Grandma is Buried, We'll Go

The Christmas Story from Mary's Viewpoint
19th  Chisleu
December 15th

Because of one delay after another we were not able to go to the city of David to be taxed as soon as we had planned to. The most tragic is that my Mimi , grandma, went to be with her fathers.

She was so dear to me. I couldn’t bear to leave her when she was so low, but she passed away, so we will sadly depart after the funeral.

This will be all for now, for I want to take one last look at her calm, still face before we follow the bier to the grave site.

20th  Chisleu
December 16th

I am not feeling very brave today even though the stars are
twinkling brightly in the otherwise black, early morning sky. Yosef is
loading Balaam, our donkey.

Somewhere, far, far away in a place called Bethlehem the stars are also shining, I suppose, but the track is so rough and dark between here and there.

There are treacherous mountains just furlongs from the road we must take, and who know what kinds of animals might come prowling around at night.

It will take us many days to get there, and this is happening so close to when the baby is expected to arrive! I have never been far from home except for the
time I went to see Aunt Elisheva, and I dread this journey!

At least this time I will have Yosef with me! What a consolation! My deepest fear is for the Baby because I am so near the end. Oh, if only it would have
worked out to leave earlier! Will He be all right?

I know we will not be traveling alone but that is not much of a

Cousin Abigail, who used to be my dearest friend, will be
in the company, but she has been cool and aloof since my condition
was revealed. I will add, however that that is—maybe? easier to handle than the
scathing remarks Shoshoni made to Tamara at the marketplace. I think
she knew I could have heard her!
My sister Hanalei claims Shoshoni has always been jealous of me,
but why? I am not that special! Some have called me sweet and pretty
but she is beautiful and sophisticated! Besides her father is a prosperous
 merchant and we are so poor.

It has been such a trial how the villagers have shunned me the last
while, and whispered behind their hands.

I am so lonely for the merry prattle we aant’ats used to share when we met at the well each morning, but now everyone just falls silent or walks slowly away while
my eyes dolefully follow them. Oh well, it could be so much worse.

For some reason, and I am not sure why, it has not made that great of a difference that Yosef married me. Is it because of Yaakov? I probably shouldn’t have written that, yet I do know that someone is spreading rumors that Yosef is not the father. Obviously I am too far along for it to have happened since we were betrothed…

“They” have been saying that I was overtaken by a Roman soldier. They do ravage careless maidens at will especially while in a drunken stupor.

Of course that is so impossible! My parents would never let their daughters be alone if they had to be out at night!

My aleichem(neighbors), could be making cutting remarks to my face but most of them don’t.

 I mentioned Shoshoni, but really most of them don’t say so very much . . . in my presence, at least. Sometimes I fear that the Little One I care about so deeply may have to suffer much worse persecution than I, and oh how I yearn to protect Him!

Why do such thoughts come to me? Most people are confident  that the Mashiach will be a glorious King and will rule with a scepter of gold. If that is the whole
truth, why would a poor talitha like me be asked to be His mother?
It is confusing. I am so inadequate for such a privilege, and awesome

I wish Imma could come along to Bethlehem. It would be such a
comfort. But, on the other hand, maybe it is better that she is not able.
She tends to worry so.

“Be sure to keep warm, and do not let yourself get too tired.”
She has told me that countless times, or so it seems. How can I
keep from getting tired? I am worn out already, and we have not even
begun! Imma is scurrying towards me with a nicely wrapped parcel of
food for the journey. I really must go assist her.