Ex Muslim Woman Calls on God & Jesus Christ Appears to Her In A Dream & ...

Can You Do It?

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I Hit Send

The Glass Castle has been a long time in coming, yeah, I'm sure it felt a lot longer to me than any of your readers. It's supposed to be available as an ebook immediately and on Amazon in a few days.Could you let me know what your think of the images? It's supposed to imitate an old-fashioned manuscript sort of because of the topic but do the pictures add or subtract from the overall impression?
Feedback is always welcome, either here, on Goodreads or as a review on Amazon. Thanks and have a good day. http://www.amazon.com/dp/1511783966

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The Afghan and the Mouse

I watched it being made: it was a creation of incredible beauty. There were squares for each of our children and nothing was more precious, more valuable than that afghan:

Our children’s lives.

I loved watching it develop slowly before my wondering eyes. Woven together with prayers and lots of love it would be cherished forever.

But it was marred.

The Master Weaver had me helping. His part was perfect, flawless and beautiful, and when He guided my hands my awkwardness was minimized, His talent shone through.

Although lacking, I still love it.

It is mine, ours; something to be cherished forever. We tried our best but over time damage was revealed: a mouse had chewed holes into the fabric.

I’ll not give up.

It’s still beautiful to me, so precious. I lift it up to show the Master Weaver: Mend it please, could you, please. It took years to create; will it take years to repair?

I’ll wait. And pray.

Lord, use my hands, more patient now from years of grief and experience to help mend. Make us into a soft, comfortable afghan that will bring joy to all.

Marilyn Friesen

The Reluctant Drummer

Oh, I know, I know it's taking me an awful long time to get this book out. Here's another tidbit to tantalize your taste buds, and maybe, jut maybe I'll hit send today, yet.  

This is based on a true story that happened in 1549. The wife's name was Hadewijk, but I don't know what the drummer's name was. It happened in Leeuwarden. Do you have any idea where that was?  It is supposed that the martyr was a man by the name of Sikke Sneijder.

“Fabian, please, just do as you’re told,” Hadewijk pleaded worriedly. “You cannot let them know that you are an Anabaptist supporter. Please, for my sake and the children’s don’t make a fuss about it.”

Fabian slammed his fist against the thick wooden table, making the dishes rattle. Anna and Daniel looked up from where they were playing beside the fireplace to see what all the noise was about.

  “Lower your voice,” Hadewijk whispered as she cleared the table.

Fabian scraped back his chair and stretched his legs. Then he tucked them in again and folded his arms across his brawny chest. He scowled.

 Hadewijk carefully stepped around the contented children to retrieve the cauldron of hot water hanging from a hook over the fireplace and prepared her dishwater.

“I’ve known Sikke all my life,” Fabian said when his wife’s long dress brushed against his leg. “Ever since he’s gone and got rebaptized he’s been more likable than ever.”

 He sunk lower into the chair.

 “Shh,” his wife cautioned, “The children are listening.”

He sighed, ignoring her comment. “Now that we are working in the same shop, it gives us plenty of opportunities to discuss what it truly means to be a Christian.

 “Fabian! That’s not safe!”

 “Will you quit worrying all the time? There are more important things than being ‘safe’! There’s a deep hunger in my soul that longs to be satisfied. I want to be sure me, you, and the children make it to Heaven, you know!”

Hadewijk didn’t answer.

“Well, he’s been found out. Someone tattled on him, and he was apprehended.”

Hadewijk groaned, “So he’s in prison now?”

 “Worse than that”—this time he did lower his voice—“he will be executed.”

 “Oh, no! What about Mary... and the little ones? Aren’t they expecting their second baby in a few months?”

Fabian nodded glumly. Daniel leaped up and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Are you talking about ‘Uncle’ Sikke, Papa? Is he going to be killed?”

Fabian turned and hoisted the boy onto his lap. He brushed a lock of white blond hair off his forehead. Anna also stood watching them.

“Not only that but the authorities are insisting that I play the drum to drown out whatever the ‘martyrs”—for that’s what they are!!—have to say.

“Oh, Fabian, surely you didn’t object!”

“I knew better than to object vehemently, but I sure they know how I feel.”

He got up and reached for a bottle of homemade brew in the rough-hewn cupboard by the door. Maybe if I let myself get just a little bit intoxicated it won’t bother me so much.

Hadewijk cast him a stony glare. She never did like it when he drank too much, but this time, he promised he wouldn’t. 

Hadewijk sent the children off to bed. Fabian got the chickens in for the night then went for a long walk beneath the starlit sky. It did little to soothe his agitated spirit.

 _________________________________

 “Keep the children off the streets,” Fabian warned the next day and was soon milling with the crowds in the filthy, congested marketplace.

He grimaced when he saw the crowd of soldiers forming a barricade around the prisoner, knowing  full well there were other sympathizers besides him that felt like an injustice was being done  that day. The leaders wanted to avoid a protest.  

He was feeling more than a little tipsy from that last mug of beer gulped down rather convulsively just before dragging himself out of the house. He dared not be late. 

“Ah, here comes the drummer! Now we can start.”

Sikke Sneijder met Fabian’s eye as they bound him, and Fabian dropped his gaze first. There was a light, nay a radiance resting on Sikke’s calm features. It seemed such a shame that a kindly, peace-loving gentleman’s life was to be cut short.

Fleeing Safety

It seems to be taking me forever to get my tiny new book, The Glass Castle  ready for publication. This is the  part I've been editing today. As usual, I promise: "Soon, soon!" and someday that will change to: "It's here, it's arrived! You can come and get your own copy now."

P.S. It's been so much fun having guests at our bed and breakfast and otherwise, that writing got put on the back burner (Not a good place for my laptop, eh) but I'm back again --for the moment.

Okay, here goes!

Fleeing Safety

 Not everyone in that lovely glass fortress was so enthused to be there. On a lower floor, in a back corner of the basement to be exact dwelt two naysayers who rarely mingled with the others. That their section of the glass wall had gotten smudged goes almost without saying. After all, they didn’t want to be there, so why bother polishing windows?

            Gilbert and Arthur were involved in something that looked similar to a game of Chess. They laid out their game pieces to plan their strategy.

“We will be cut off from friends and family if we leave,” Arthur pointed out, moving one of his men.

Gilbert shook his head. “They’ll get over it. They’ll be disappointed, of course, but we’ll keep in touch”—

 Arthur snorted, “If we get around to it.”

For a few minutes, all that could be heard was the shuffling of game pieces and the occasional squeak of a chair.

 “They say that the Outside World is flat and there is a tremendous drop off at the edge.”

Gilbert grimaced. “And that we will fall and fall and never stop falling even while being engulfed by flames.” 

                        “Sounds scary.”

`”Sure it does, but we’ll stay well away from the drop off point—if there is one.”

 “Granddaddy says one can be sucked in quite unexpectedly just about anywhere.”

 “How does he know?” 

  “He was there: escaped by the skin of his teeth as it were when a friend was sucked in.”

                   “We’re sitting here scaring each other. That desert looks so beautiful with the setting sun and there’s hardly any chance of sinkholes there.  We are much too confined in here—and bored: let’s just go. We can always come back.”

 Gilbert swept all the game pieces into a cloth bag and tossed it into a drawer.

   “OK, let’s go.” They let themselves into the hallway and looked both ways before continuing.

 “Where are you going?” a sister paused while scurrying down the hall with a tray for an invalid. “It’s almost suppertime.”

 “We’ll be back,” Gilbert answered evasively.

She leveled a thoughtful look at them but didn’t try to block their way. 

             “Let’s try to go out by the concealed trapdoor. That way we won’t be noticed by so many.”

             “Help,” Arthur yelped, “I didn’t know the descent was so steep!” They looked over the embankment, almost chickening out.

The castle was built on top of a cliff with slick embankments on all sides. “I didn’t mean to descend so rapidly,” Arthur muttered, trying to keep his balance while slowing his pace.

                       

                                   Windows flew open here and there.

                                  

                                  “It’s Arthur: looks like he’s in trouble!”

                       “And Gilbert: throw out the lifeline!”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Gilbert muttered, grabbing on to a thick, twisted root that reminded him ominously of a huge snake. “We’ll make it.”

Prayers ascended up to the King while they picked their way carefully down the steep embankment but they didn’t listen.

“It’ll be better after we get on to the level ground,” Arthur said. He took the liberty to glance back. My, the castle had never looked so beautiful…so strong…and secure…before.

Now that they have faded from our view we will check back at the castle.

Fleeing Safety

It seems to be taking me forever to get my tiny new book, The Glass Castle  ready for publication. This is the  part I've been editing today. As usual, I promise: "Soon, soon!" and someday that will change to: "It's here, it's arrived! You can come and get your own copy now."

P.S. It's been so much fun having guests at our bed and breakfast and otherwise, that writing got put on the back burner (Not a good place for my laptop, eh) but I'm back again --for the moment.

Okay, here goes!

Fleeing Safety

 Not everyone in that lovely glass fortress was so enthused to be there. On a lower floor, in a back corner of the basement to be exact dwelt two naysayers who rarely mingled with the others. That their section of the glass wall had gotten smudged goes almost without saying. After all, they didn’t want to be there, so why bother polishing windows?

            Gilbert and Arthur were involved in something that looked similar to a game of Chess. They laid out their game pieces to plan their strategy.

“We will be cut off from friends and family if we leave,” Arthur pointed out, moving one of his men.

Gilbert shook his head. “They’ll get over it. They’ll be disappointed, of course, but we’ll keep in touch”—

 Arthur snorted, “If we get around to it.”

For a few minutes, all that could be heard was the shuffling of game pieces and the occasional squeak of a chair.

 “They say that the Outside World is flat and there is a tremendous drop off at the edge.”

Gilbert grimaced. “And that we will fall and fall and never stop falling even while being engulfed by flames.” 

                        “Sounds scary.”

`”Sure it does, but we’ll stay well away from the drop off point—if there is one.”

 “Granddaddy says one can be sucked in quite unexpectedly just about anywhere.”

 “How does he know?” 

  “He was there: escaped by the skin of his teeth as it were when a friend was sucked in.”

                   “We’re sitting here scaring each other. That desert looks so beautiful with the setting sun and there’s hardly any chance of sinkholes there.  We are much too confined in here—and bored: let’s just go. We can always come back.”

 Gilbert swept all the game pieces into a cloth bag and tossed it into a drawer.

   “OK, let’s go.” They let themselves into the hallway and looked both ways before continuing.

 “Where are you going?” a sister paused while scurrying down the hall with a tray for an invalid. “It’s almost suppertime.”

 “We’ll be back,” Gilbert answered evasively.

She leveled a thoughtful look at them but didn’t try to block their way. 

             “Let’s try to go out by the concealed trapdoor. That way we won’t be noticed by so many.”

             “Help,” Arthur yelped, “I didn’t know the descent was so steep!” They looked over the embankment, almost chickening out.

The castle was built on top of a cliff with slick embankments on all sides. “I didn’t mean to descend so rapidly,” Arthur muttered, trying to keep his balance while slowing his pace.

                       

                                   Windows flew open here and there.

                                  

                                  “It’s Arthur: looks like he’s in trouble!”

                       “And Gilbert: throw out the lifeline!”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Gilbert muttered, grabbing on to a thick, twisted root that reminded him ominously of a huge snake. “We’ll make it.”

Prayers ascended up to the King while they picked their way carefully down the steep embankment but they didn’t listen.

“It’ll be better after we get on to the level ground,” Arthur said. He took the liberty to glance back. My, the castle had never looked so beautiful…so strong…and secure…before.

Now that they have faded from our view we will check back at the castle.