Thursday 7 June 2018

Surely Ye Didn't Object Out Loud

Jason is supposed to play the drum while his friend is being executed, and is none too happy about it. Part two.-------------------------------------------------Oh, Jason, surely you didn’t object!”“I knew better than to object vehemently, but I'm sure they know how I feel."He got up and reached for a bottle of homemade brew in a cupboard by the door. Maybe if I let myself get just a little bit intoxicated it won’t bother me so much.

Monday 4 June 2018

Death Pentalty


A true story)

“ One of the strangest experiences in my life is connected with war, says Nordenberg, an eminent engineer in Finland.

“I offered my services to the government and was appointed as an officer in General Mannerheim’s army. It was a terrible time. We besieged the town. It had been taken by the Red Army and we retook it. A number of the Red soldiers were under my guard. Seven of them were to be shot at dawn on Monday. I shall never forget the preceding Sunday. The seven doomed men were kept in the basement of the town hall. In the passageway, my men stood at attention with their rifles.

“The atmosphere was filled with hatred. My soldiers were drunk with victory and taunted their prisoners. Some swore as much as they could and beat the walls with their bleeding fists. Others called for their wives and children who were far away. At dawn, they were all to die.

“We had the victory, that was true enough, but the value of this seemed to diminish as the night advanced. I began to wonder if there did not rest a curse on arms whichever side used them.

“Then something happened. One of the men doomed to death began to sing. “He is mad” was everybody’s first thought. But I had noticed this man, Koskinen, had not raved and curved like the others. Quietly he had sat on the bench, a picture of utter despair.  Nobody said anything to him—each was carrying his burden in his own way and Koskinen sang, rather waveringly at first, but then his voice grew stronger, and filled out, and became natural and free. All the prisoners turned to look at the singer who now seemed to be in his element.

Safe in the arms of Jesus

Safe on His gentle breast

There by His love o’er shadowed

Sweetly my soul shall rest

Hark tis the voice of angels

Born in a song to me

Over the fields of glory,

Over the jasper sea.



“Over and over again Koskinen sang that verse and when he was finished everyone was quiet for a few minutes until a wild-looking individual broke out with “Where did you get that, you fool? Are you trying to make us religious?”  Koskinen looked at his comrades and his eyes filled with tears. Then he asked quietly, “Comrades, will you listen to me for a few minutes? You asked me where I got that song. It was from the Salvation Army.  I heard it there three weeks ago. At first, I also laughed but it got to me. It is cowardly to hide your beliefs; the God my mother believed in has now become my God also. I cannot tell how it happened, but I know it has happened.  I lay awake last night and suddenly felt I had to find the Savior and hide in Him. Then I prayed-like the thief on the cross-that Christ would forgive me and cleanse my sinful soul, and make me ready to stand before Him whom I should meet soon.”

“It was a strange night, “continued Koskinen. “There were times when everything seemed to shine around me. Verses from the Bible and from the Song Book came to mind. They brought a message of the crucified Savior and the blood that cleanses from sin and of the Home He has prepared for us. I thanked Him, accepted it, and since then this verse has been sounding inside me. It was God’s answer to my prayer. I could no longer keep it to myself. Within a few hours, I shall be with the Lord, saved by His grace.

“Koskinen’s face shone as by an inward light. His comrades sat there quietly. He himself stood there transfixed. My soldiers were listening to what this Red revolutionary had to say.

““You are right, Koskinen,” one of his comrades said at last. “If only I knew there was mercy for me too! But these hands of mine have shed blood and I have reviled God and trampled on all that is holy.  Now I realize that there is a Hell and that it is the proper place for me.”

“He sank to the ground with despair depicted on his face.  “Pray for me Koskinen,” he groaned, “Tomorrow I will die and my soul will be in the hands of the devil!”

“And there these two Red soldiers went down on their knees and prayed for each other. It was no long prayer, but it opened Heaven for both, and we who listened to it forgot our hatred. It melted in the light from Heaven, for here two men who were soon to die, sought reconciliation with God. A door leading into the invisible stood ajar and we were entranced by the sight.

“Let me tell you shortly that by the time it was four o’clock all Koskinen’s comrades had followed his example and began to pray. The change in the atmosphere was indescribable. Some of them sat on the floor, others talked about spiritual things.

“The night had almost gone and the day was dawning. No one had a moment's sleep. “Sing the song once more for us, Koskinen,” said one of them. And you should of head them sing! Not only that song, but verses and choruses long forgotten came forth from their memories as buds (opening) in the sunshine. The soldiers on guard united their voices with them.

“The town clock struck six. How I wished I could have begged grace for these men, but knew this was impossible.

“Between two rows of soldiers, they marched out to execution. One of them asked to be allowed once more to sing Koskinen’s song. Permission was granted. Then they asked to die with uncovered faces and hands raised to Heaven. They sang with might and main.

‘Safe in the arms of Jesus

Safe on His gentle breast…’

“When the last lines had died out the lieutenant gave the word “Fire!” and the seven Red soldiers had fought their last fight.  We inclined our heads in silent prayer.

“What happened to the hearts of the others, I do not know, but as far as I was concerned, I was a new man from that hour. I had met Christ in one of His lowliest and youngest disciples and I had seen enough to realize that I too, could be His.  “The Lord looketh from Heaven: He beholdeth all the sons of men.” Psalms 33:13

“Jesus said: “I am the resurrection and the life:  he that believeth in me, though he were to die, yet shall he live. John 11:25 RV)




Translated for “All the World” by Major Clara Becker. The War Cry

Friday 25 May 2018

Marita's Misery---Twins Reunited


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

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

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

Marilyn Friesen
www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Thursday 17 May 2018

Does Your God Answer Prayer?

Y’know it doesn’t really help for a Mom to worry about their adult children ‘cuz she ain’t gonna know the half of what goes on in their life anyway.
Okay, okay, switch from that grubby English. You don’t talk like that, anyway! Nevertheless, this is a true story!!
Lashelle was motoring along; possibly not at merrily as usual, because after all, it was raining. Like seriously. Like the day I am sending this off. Work was quite a long ways away and a daily trek, but she was on the way there when it happened. Car trouble! Help! She probably thought I’m a female stranded in this kind of weather! Oh, well, I’m not all alone. I’ll ask my Heavenly Father for help. So she did. Lord, you know I need help. Could you send someone I can trust; a policeman, maybe, or someone from our church? Well, she didn’t tell me if she had time to say Amen, or not, but help sure arrived in a hurry.
“Hello, may I help you?” Lashelle was chatting with the off-duty policeman when someone else came to a stop and strolled over.
The two men probably introduced themselves to each other, while Lashelle grinned not so secretively. God sure must have a sense of humor to send, not just a cop, but one of the ministers from our church!
You get the point? God is looking out for us, and He sure does answer prayer!
Oh hey, I missed a really juicy morsel. That gentlemanly policeman was a friend of Lashelle’s boss and he told her:
If she gives you trouble for being late, you tell her to talk to me!”www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com



P.S. Yup, she is our daughter, although that isn't her in the picture. 

Friday 11 May 2018

Are You Drinking the Dregs of Sorrow

I noticed the moment I saw you that there was depth in your eyes. Not tears, but depth. I sensed that you had drunk deeply from the dregs of sorrow and I wondered how to help. You have known pain and suffering and I sympathize with you for being politely reserved. Our mutual friend later shared a little what you have gone through. I am not the type to push my way into someone else's' life by invading their privacy so this is just to let you know that I care. Long roads of suffering have made me keen to sense pain in others. You are being remembered in my prayers. Prayers for your spiritual and emotional healing. Please don't feel embarrassed, but do feel loved.

You may pass it on to anyone you are concerned about.