Soap for Jesus

And again, while cleaning my boss's house... :P I noticed a fridge magnet that not three months ago I would have found hysterically amusing. (I promise I didn't look at it for more than a few moments! I thought while I worked.) And still, even now in a bitter mood or out shopping with Mom, I would still have an outward amusement and find some satirical agreeing comment. You see, that fridge magnet read, "Never let your man's mind wander. It's too little to be out on its own." Suddenly, the whole idea behind it struck me as wrong. Sure, in the environment I live in it's funny; as a non-Christian I would've bought about ten and sent them around to all my other girl friends who are involved with boys. I was a feminist. Unwittingly so. My friends called me feminist. I denied it. I believed all the right things with my head, but I held all men with contempt in my heart. And I believed very strongly that any woman was equal to a man, could toughen herself up

Okay. So I'm trying to write three blogs at once, advise Mom on family problems, look for a Parliamentary soldier for Joseph, watch Ayanna and be ready to run if she starts crying, help Sam where needed, listen to two songs at once, help Mom with some necklaces, run four chats, manage Twitter, think about other stuff I'm doing, deal with Joseph's behaviour, console my dog cause no one's kicking his ball...and now Mom's asking me about the washing....and Sam wants me to open a can and my family ends up in a quarrel because it's a sharp edged can...and my chat contacts are thinking I'm ignoring them... Am I going insane? My voice is definitely containing traces of irritation... Oh Lord, teach me patience! And I post this after attempting to rock Ayanna to sleep moments before rushing out to cadets in an unironed uniform. God is good. Grow closer in the hard times!

Due to the unfortunate change in our family circumstances, I have a rather sad announcement to make. Today, we go to look at a new house in Bloxwich. If it is acceptable and we are able to rent, within the next few months we will be moving. Some...other changes also means we lose the internet. Right now, I am working off the BT Openzone hotspot privilege we have, as members of BT Broadband, but when we move, I'll lose it. I will probably be able to get a dongle for £10 (approx $17), but this will severely restrict my internet hours to one or two a night, if that's not one or two every few days. My chatting will be limited to the minimum, as I have emails, blogs, Twitter, Facebook and other things to sort out. You will be as free to chat to me as always, but please do not instantly presume I do not want to talk to you and am ignoring you. I'm simply working feverishly in the short time I have. If the dongle option does not work out, you will see me once a week, probably on F

No, these aren't radicals. This is the heart and soul of Islam, in the fullness of its evil in the centre of the UK. God save us all.

Sections from Chapters One, Two, Four, Ten and Eleven. :) 1: “Break when you’re ready, Sergeant.” I repeated the same call in Room 2 and the Parade Hall. Cadets began queuing up in line for the canteen. In a few moments, the Parade Hall had cadets milling everywhere in one blue mass. I headed towards the office, stopping short as Plt. Off. Detter stepped through the door ahead of me. Blowing an exasperated breath, I started to turn away, but glanced back as I noticed one of the new cadets start after him. That wasn’t so unusual; many of the new cadets asked advice off Detter. The expression on this girl’s face looked strange, though. Pale and scared-looking, she glided across the room, but a fierce determination shone from her eyes. I studied her, remembering our impression when she first came. Dressed like something out of the old-fashioned films, with that long skirt and loose blouse. My interest sparked, I waited until she returned before heading into the office. I wonder what she w

Due to high demand on the reading of the first chapter of my sequel to this, Emerging From Death, to read this first book, I thought I would tantalise my readers by posting a small synopsis of the book. It is the year 2012. Britain has been under the control of Europe for 3 years. Religions everywhere are joining together, believing that they are worshipping the same god in different ways. Only "fundamental" Christians who believe that Jesus is the only Way to Heaven, and fundamental Muslims who believe that Allah is the only god and that he has no Son - therefore every other religion should be exterminated - are against this, and they are imprisoned for "hatecrime". In the midst of this turmoil, good and evil come face to face in two ex-members of the Air Training Corps; ex-cadet Abbie Thomas, a Christian, and ex-sergeant Peter Westcott, an atheist. Battles that were left unresolved since Squadron days due to political correctness are now re-engaged with violence

I've considered posting this for a long while, but I haven't before, due somewhat to uncertainty of what to say. This is a chat between a best friend of mine and myself, just before the start of the return from my backsliding in November last year. I couldn't see what he was saying. I wanted to. But I couldn't. I've never known the frustration of knowing the truth and being unable to see it. But afterwards, I began to pray every day that God would show me how to love with His love. That was when things began to change. Taylor Weller: Are you alright? Sian Jones: *pounces and hugs * Taylor Weller: :) Sian Jones: No. I mean. I suppose so. Sian Jones: I will be. Sian Jones: I guess. Taylor Weller: :/ Taylor Weller: Tell me about it. Sian Jones: I've got such a headache. Sian Jones: I was okay. As you know. For the last two days. Taylor Weller: Yes. Sian Jones: And then today...I don't know. ... (Part removed due to personal nature) Sian Jones: And then Mom and

The song Ever Ever After , as sung by Carrie Underwood in the Disney film "Enchanted". Storybook endings, fairy tales coming true Deep down inside we want to believe they still do And a secret is taught, it's our favourite part of the story Let's just admit we all want to make it too... Ever ever after If we just don't get it our own way Ever ever after It may only be a wish away Start a new fashion, and wear your heart on your sleeve. Sometimes you reach what's real just by making believe. Unafraid, unashamed, There is joy to be claimed in this world; You even might wind up being glad to be you. Ever ever after Though the world will tell you it's not smart Ever ever after The world can be yours if you let your heart Believe in ever after. No wonder your heart feels it's flying. Your head feels it's spinning. Each happy ending's a brand new beginning! Let yourself be enchanted, you just might break through... To ever ever after Forever could ev

Some of you will remember Born From Death, my best novel I was "meant" to write. Centred on the characters of ex Air Training Corps cadets Peter Westcott and Abigail Thomas. Abbie is a Christian and atheist Pete is determined to crush her faith in a lifelong battle that culminates in a prison camp. Pete submits Abbie to a torture no woman should endure, and resulting in the birth of a baby girl. Not to spoil the end of my book... :P It finds its sequel in the book Emerging From Death, with main character Martha Thomas, abused teen in the State Displaced Children's Orphanage, searching desperately for an identity outside of the one she knows... The link with her past? One silver watch. Do the mysterious, mindless janitor, the silent midnight observer and the subversive anti-state group have anything in common? I present Chapter One of EfD. Critiques and comments both WELCOMED, BEGGED FOR AND APPRECIATED! :D Chapter One Child of Fiction “Abbie, did you ever forgive me for w

It is horrible...as a writer, never mind as a human. To find myself speechless, emotionally withdrawing from my friends once again, from my family. So tired of people in real life trying to pry beneath the surface to get my emotions out of me, because I cannot even recognise them myself. That's what I mean by it being awkward as a writer. The poetry is not given to write, and the words refuse to come to my fingers. I can't express myself in words, verbal or written; I can't let out the raw emotion of now; the only way I can let it out is by pelting my ears with rock. And it's being to develop into the non-Christian side. Mom was right...let your doors open to Christian rock and it's easy to slip into the world's music. With that barrier down, you have worldly mindsets and values being pumped in through the rhythm and insinuated in the words. I'm sitting here typing this with despair at my heart. The only peace is in knowing God uses all things for good in th

My good friend and sister Samii and I did a writing race earlier, for 20 minutes. We wrote randomly as neither of us could think of or, I think, could have stuck with a subject line. I'm not sure what Samii came out with, as she had to leave immediately afterwards, but I had this. Writing from the book I originally intended as my debut OYAN Adventure Novel, which was called "For Queen and Country", based on the life of a British slave girl, Andraste, who was in service to Queen Boudicea of the Iceni. She looked up sharply as the leaves rustled again. At first she’d thought it was the wind that was brushing the branches with tender spring breezes, but the sound was too distinct for that. Glancing back down at the disturbed dirt tracks of a wild boar, she pretended that she’d heard nothing and moved on. A few moments later, she felt a footfall vibrate through the soil into the sole of her foot. She was definitely being tracked now. Nervously, she began to edge around a tree

This is a snippet of a short story I wrote earlier. I am thinking of including it in Snapshots. They had argued last night and this morning, bitter, fierce, sniping. Then silence reigned, a heavy, sullen blanket. She came back in from cleaning out their chickens. He pointed to the microwave. "Put it on for 30 seconds." She started the microwave, looking a little puzzled. It bleeped, signalling the end. She looked at him. "Take it out. It's yours." She pulled out a plate of toast. "Thank you." "See, what an evil father you've got. He made you some toast because you were hungry and feeling like you were going to faint." With an inward sigh, she cut two begrudged slices of cheese and ate it as a sandwich. She turned to the fridge and pulled out a carton of apple juice. With a brief laugh, she told him about last night at a meeting, where a friend had surprised her with apple juice instead of squash. "I was so pleased because apple juice

I told you I'd introduce you to my latest pet! Please to meet Harry Kyle Hound. He was my Uncle Robert's late Christmas present to me, and since I've had him, he rarely leaves my side. He gives me all the affection I want, (almost :P) and is SO warm and soft and cuddly! I should be bringing him with me to the States, God willing, so you'll all get to meet the Queen's pet puppy! This is my favourite position with him: