The Prompt: God calls Tim to be an usher, but he's afraid of people. What happens?
I was surprised when my husband told me about what he thought God was telling him to do. He had always been a shy person. How he ever gathered up the courage to ask me out on our first date is a miracle in itself. I knew my husband was sure about this though. He always prayed to God and thought seriously about any situation before he made big decisions. Tim told me that this is something he didn't want to do, but he felt that if he didn't do it, he would feel like something was missing in his life.
Tim talked with the pastor after service that Sunday. He's one of the few people Tim isn't afraid of. The pastor was very receptive to the idea and prayed with Tim to give him strength for his journey ahead. Tim hardly spoke a word the first couple of times he did it. He just did his work with a smile on his face, the joy of the Holy Spirit shining through him. It was interacting with the congregation that gave him the confidence he needed. He hasn't regretted his decision, and now he never stops talking!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Never Be the Same Pt. 2
I ran out of time to finish the story before the day passed. I just wanted to include a little bit of what happened afterwards.
The man moved his arm again to make sure it could still move, that it was really there. Yes, it was. He couldn't believe it! He couldn't describe the feeling he had. He felt Jesus' love and forgiveness. He had a sense of peace that seemed like it would last for an eternity. He was too excited to work anymore, so he went home, praising God and praying to him all the way.
During that time, the man got to thinking about his life. He had never really thought about forgiving himself. By not doing that, he had become a bitter man. He didn't mean to, but he knew he hadn't been kind. He resolved that he would always be more kind, compassionate, and forgiving, just as Jesus had shown him. The man knew that this was not enough. He wanted to follow Jesus.
It took him a few days to sell what he had, just as he heard he was supposed to when preparing to follow the Master. After that was done, he headed back to the town where Jesus had been. He found out He had moved on, so the man pursued Him. Before he could catch up, he found out Jesus had died, on the cross. The man was grieved, but he did not let that stop him from believing in the man and wanting to do something.
He had met a few followers of Jesus during his journey, and he lived with them. They taught him more about Jesus' teachings and how to be a follower. Through their discussions, he found out how he could dedicate his life to God. He founded a shelter for injured and sick men and women. He fed them, taught them a useful trade that they could do to make a little money for themselves, and helped them to heal spiritually. There had been this one beggar he helped soon after the shelter had opened. He was old and had a limp. The man had helped him strengthen the leg a bit and talked to him for hours to help the old man cope with his grief.
When their conversation had ended, the old man, tears in his eyes, gave the man a big hug. There was something warm and oddly familiar about it. Then the beggar whispered in his ear, "Well done, servant of God."
The next day, the beggar was gone.
This song came to mind when I thought about the prompt. I bet that's how a lot of people felt after experiencing a miracle from Jesus.
The man moved his arm again to make sure it could still move, that it was really there. Yes, it was. He couldn't believe it! He couldn't describe the feeling he had. He felt Jesus' love and forgiveness. He had a sense of peace that seemed like it would last for an eternity. He was too excited to work anymore, so he went home, praising God and praying to him all the way.
During that time, the man got to thinking about his life. He had never really thought about forgiving himself. By not doing that, he had become a bitter man. He didn't mean to, but he knew he hadn't been kind. He resolved that he would always be more kind, compassionate, and forgiving, just as Jesus had shown him. The man knew that this was not enough. He wanted to follow Jesus.
It took him a few days to sell what he had, just as he heard he was supposed to when preparing to follow the Master. After that was done, he headed back to the town where Jesus had been. He found out He had moved on, so the man pursued Him. Before he could catch up, he found out Jesus had died, on the cross. The man was grieved, but he did not let that stop him from believing in the man and wanting to do something.
He had met a few followers of Jesus during his journey, and he lived with them. They taught him more about Jesus' teachings and how to be a follower. Through their discussions, he found out how he could dedicate his life to God. He founded a shelter for injured and sick men and women. He fed them, taught them a useful trade that they could do to make a little money for themselves, and helped them to heal spiritually. There had been this one beggar he helped soon after the shelter had opened. He was old and had a limp. The man had helped him strengthen the leg a bit and talked to him for hours to help the old man cope with his grief.
When their conversation had ended, the old man, tears in his eyes, gave the man a big hug. There was something warm and oddly familiar about it. Then the beggar whispered in his ear, "Well done, servant of God."
The next day, the beggar was gone.
This song came to mind when I thought about the prompt. I bet that's how a lot of people felt after experiencing a miracle from Jesus.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Day 29: Never Be the Same
The Prompt: Write a short story regarding a person whom Jesus healed. What happened to him after the healing?
Once there was a middle-aged man who lived on the outskirts of town. He liked to keep to himself, mainly due to his injury. He didn't like to think about it much because it reminded him of his foolish past. About ten years, he had been hanging out with rebellious Israelites who wanted to break away from the Roman rule. He had never done anything rebellious himself, like some of his friends had, but he still believed in their cause and appeared to support them with his faithful presence. Then, his friends started a riot with a few Roman soldiers. There was a fierce struggle, and even the man threw a few punches at them. However, his friends drew weapons on the soldiers, who in turn drew theirs. There was more struggling, and then- The man rubbed his left shoulder, feeling the round nub. He had been able to adjust fairly well with only one arm, but he was reminded of his past every day.
That afternoon, the man was supposed to go to market to sell some of his goods. So, he packed up his donkey and traveled for a couple hours, getting there at the peak of the customers. There was an unusually large crowd gathered that day. After asking one of his fellow vendors nearby, he found out Jesus was in town. Jesus. The man had heard a great deal about that person. He was an intelligent, compassionate man, unlike anybody any person had ever met. He heard how people's lives had been transformed in one way or another. He had heard of healings too. The man thought often about Jesus healing him, but he always pushed the thought aside. He didn't deserve to be healed by Jesus.
Still, something drew him to the idea, and he could not push it away. No one was buying anything from him today anyways. So, the man packed up his things and went off to find Jesus. That was an easier task than he thought; all he had to do was follow the crowd. People all around him shouted different things to Jesus, praising the man or begging to be healed. The man was excited by their attitudes, and the closer he got, the more he could feel like he was doing the right thing.
When he caught sight of the teacher, he opened his voice and called hoarsely, "Jesus!"
Jesus looked towards him, but it appeared he couldn't make out exactly where the voice had come from.
The man tried again, in a more assertive voice this time. "Jesus!"
Jesus looked directly at him this time and, after excusing Himself, made His way through the crowd. He stood in front of the man, waiting for him to speak, but He looked kind and patient, as if He could wait for him for hours.
"Jesus, I know I'm not worthy to ask this of you, but I wanted to try. I ask for mercy, that you will heal me." He nudged his shoulder towards the Messiah.
"My son, your sins were already forgiven ten years ago. You need to forgive yourself." And with that, Jesus gave him a hug, unlike any the man had ever had in his life. When He pulled away, the man found his arm was restored.
"Your faith has made you well. Go in peace, my son."
The man was speechless, tears welling in his eyes. He mouthed, "Thank you," and Jesus simply smiled at him and walked away.
Once there was a middle-aged man who lived on the outskirts of town. He liked to keep to himself, mainly due to his injury. He didn't like to think about it much because it reminded him of his foolish past. About ten years, he had been hanging out with rebellious Israelites who wanted to break away from the Roman rule. He had never done anything rebellious himself, like some of his friends had, but he still believed in their cause and appeared to support them with his faithful presence. Then, his friends started a riot with a few Roman soldiers. There was a fierce struggle, and even the man threw a few punches at them. However, his friends drew weapons on the soldiers, who in turn drew theirs. There was more struggling, and then- The man rubbed his left shoulder, feeling the round nub. He had been able to adjust fairly well with only one arm, but he was reminded of his past every day.
That afternoon, the man was supposed to go to market to sell some of his goods. So, he packed up his donkey and traveled for a couple hours, getting there at the peak of the customers. There was an unusually large crowd gathered that day. After asking one of his fellow vendors nearby, he found out Jesus was in town. Jesus. The man had heard a great deal about that person. He was an intelligent, compassionate man, unlike anybody any person had ever met. He heard how people's lives had been transformed in one way or another. He had heard of healings too. The man thought often about Jesus healing him, but he always pushed the thought aside. He didn't deserve to be healed by Jesus.
Still, something drew him to the idea, and he could not push it away. No one was buying anything from him today anyways. So, the man packed up his things and went off to find Jesus. That was an easier task than he thought; all he had to do was follow the crowd. People all around him shouted different things to Jesus, praising the man or begging to be healed. The man was excited by their attitudes, and the closer he got, the more he could feel like he was doing the right thing.
When he caught sight of the teacher, he opened his voice and called hoarsely, "Jesus!"
Jesus looked towards him, but it appeared he couldn't make out exactly where the voice had come from.
The man tried again, in a more assertive voice this time. "Jesus!"
Jesus looked directly at him this time and, after excusing Himself, made His way through the crowd. He stood in front of the man, waiting for him to speak, but He looked kind and patient, as if He could wait for him for hours.
"Jesus, I know I'm not worthy to ask this of you, but I wanted to try. I ask for mercy, that you will heal me." He nudged his shoulder towards the Messiah.
"My son, your sins were already forgiven ten years ago. You need to forgive yourself." And with that, Jesus gave him a hug, unlike any the man had ever had in his life. When He pulled away, the man found his arm was restored.
"Your faith has made you well. Go in peace, my son."
The man was speechless, tears welling in his eyes. He mouthed, "Thank you," and Jesus simply smiled at him and walked away.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Day 28: What Angels See
The Prompt: What do angels see?
A bit vague today. I'm just going to take a guess at what this could mean. I did want to write a poem, but I don't think I have enough time tonight. Maybe another day....
Angels see sadness, discouragement, and depression. They are right there when you need a shoulder to cry on. They don't get a chance to touch you in person (even though they ache to do so), but they are standing right next to you or above you just the same. Angels even kneel and pray to God right along side you. They cry with you and hope you will see the truth of God's promises for you the way they see it. If you've had a sensation that someone is giving you a hug or reaching out to touch your hand, you can be certain it is either God or one of His angels. Of course you have guardian angels too. They see the danger ahead of time and help you when you need it most, such as nudging you awake before you drive your car into the opposite lane of traffic.
Angels aren't only there for the bad moments. They are able to witness all the happy times you experience. They're present when you get your first kiss or recite your marriage vows. They cheer each time a new baby is born. They rejoice when people finally break down and accept Jesus. They are standing in the crowd when they get baptized. They're your number one audience when you have a school presentation or a big speech. Angels dance around you when you get that job offer you've been praying for.
Angels also enjoy God's handiwork. How do you think the clouds get shaped the way they do? The angels play with them, after they play games with each other in the sky. Their favorite place to fly is the Grand Canyon because of all the open space they have alongside those painted canyons. Some prefer a more gentle approach and dip their toes in the water or sit in a meadow to smell the flowers. In the winter, those snowball fights they have can almost create a storm. The artistic ones love creating icicles or making ice designs on the windows.
Whatever they do, angels are always nearby, God's special messengers whenever you need them.
A bit vague today. I'm just going to take a guess at what this could mean. I did want to write a poem, but I don't think I have enough time tonight. Maybe another day....
Angels see sadness, discouragement, and depression. They are right there when you need a shoulder to cry on. They don't get a chance to touch you in person (even though they ache to do so), but they are standing right next to you or above you just the same. Angels even kneel and pray to God right along side you. They cry with you and hope you will see the truth of God's promises for you the way they see it. If you've had a sensation that someone is giving you a hug or reaching out to touch your hand, you can be certain it is either God or one of His angels. Of course you have guardian angels too. They see the danger ahead of time and help you when you need it most, such as nudging you awake before you drive your car into the opposite lane of traffic.
Angels aren't only there for the bad moments. They are able to witness all the happy times you experience. They're present when you get your first kiss or recite your marriage vows. They cheer each time a new baby is born. They rejoice when people finally break down and accept Jesus. They are standing in the crowd when they get baptized. They're your number one audience when you have a school presentation or a big speech. Angels dance around you when you get that job offer you've been praying for.
Angels also enjoy God's handiwork. How do you think the clouds get shaped the way they do? The angels play with them, after they play games with each other in the sky. Their favorite place to fly is the Grand Canyon because of all the open space they have alongside those painted canyons. Some prefer a more gentle approach and dip their toes in the water or sit in a meadow to smell the flowers. In the winter, those snowball fights they have can almost create a storm. The artistic ones love creating icicles or making ice designs on the windows.
Whatever they do, angels are always nearby, God's special messengers whenever you need them.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Day 27: God's Fingers
The Prompt: Describe the fear in Daniel 5:5 when God's fingers appeared and wrote on the wall.
Can you imagine seeing a hand- not a whole hand, mind you, a part of one- being suspended in midair and moving? Since this was God's fingers, I picture this to be a pretty big hand. I suspect a few people looked at their wine glasses and reconsidered taking that fifth drink. Maybe others were too drunk to care. Most people though, were probably filled with pure fear. The kind that clutches your heart and constricts your lungs. The kind that makes your heart beat so fast you can feel the blood pulsing in your body. The kind that churns your stomach. Verse 6 reads that, "The king's countenance changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his hips were loosened and his knees knocked against each other." He was scared! If King Belshazzar had been like me, he probably thought the fingers were going to turn on him and strangle him. And what about after the fingers? Would other body parts appear and harm him? Would bewitched objects start to move around the room? Would ghosts from his defeated enemies appear for revenge? Would a fire suddenly rage?
I'm sure prayers were uttered to their gods, and people started second-guessing the choices they had made in life. What heinous crimes had they done that had angered the gods? He and his guests probably wanted to run, but their feet were planted into the floor. The floating partial hand was mesmerizing, and I'm sure they were curious to know what it was going to write. It probably disturbed them even more when they couldn't even understand the message the fingers were delivering.
Can you imagine seeing a hand- not a whole hand, mind you, a part of one- being suspended in midair and moving? Since this was God's fingers, I picture this to be a pretty big hand. I suspect a few people looked at their wine glasses and reconsidered taking that fifth drink. Maybe others were too drunk to care. Most people though, were probably filled with pure fear. The kind that clutches your heart and constricts your lungs. The kind that makes your heart beat so fast you can feel the blood pulsing in your body. The kind that churns your stomach. Verse 6 reads that, "The king's countenance changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his hips were loosened and his knees knocked against each other." He was scared! If King Belshazzar had been like me, he probably thought the fingers were going to turn on him and strangle him. And what about after the fingers? Would other body parts appear and harm him? Would bewitched objects start to move around the room? Would ghosts from his defeated enemies appear for revenge? Would a fire suddenly rage?
I'm sure prayers were uttered to their gods, and people started second-guessing the choices they had made in life. What heinous crimes had they done that had angered the gods? He and his guests probably wanted to run, but their feet were planted into the floor. The floating partial hand was mesmerizing, and I'm sure they were curious to know what it was going to write. It probably disturbed them even more when they couldn't even understand the message the fingers were delivering.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Day 26: Saul's Agony
The Prompt: How did Saul feel before David played his harp and drove out the demons?
Some Biblical context: The event mentioned here can be found in 1 Samuel 16: 14-23. Prior to this moment, King Saul had disobeyed God's command and spared King Agag. God then regretted that he had made Saul king and had Samuel anoint David as king. Saul had no knowledge of this. He met David for the first time in this passage.
I feel something is wrong, but I can't tell what it is. Something feels...missing from me. I have no reason to feel this way. I am king! I have the best food, the best clothes, hundreds of men at my command. My people are happy. What is it that I should be worried about?
I feel restless. I want to go somewhere, but I don't know where. I want to do something, but I don't know what. I despise anyone laughing. I despise smiles and seeing any happiness. How dare they be happy when I am not?! But what can make me happy? I try to read about my past victories. I survey my palace grounds. I spend time with my wives and children. Nothing feels right. Nothing fills that emptiness in my soul. That deep, hollow pit in the middle of my stomach that churns my insides so I can't eat anything. That anxious feeling that has descended on my very existence and won't leave me. It's like a mosquito buzzing constantly by my ear.
It's mounting now. Even when I find the most serene spot at the palace, it still follows me. I can't escape it. It haunts me even in my dreams. I dream of falling into darkness. I dream of being killed in battle and my body disgraced. I dream of being destitute. I dream of emptiness.
Can't someone help me?! Can't someone have mercy on me and take away this feeling that has robbed me of every happiness?! I need it to go away!
Some Biblical context: The event mentioned here can be found in 1 Samuel 16: 14-23. Prior to this moment, King Saul had disobeyed God's command and spared King Agag. God then regretted that he had made Saul king and had Samuel anoint David as king. Saul had no knowledge of this. He met David for the first time in this passage.
I feel something is wrong, but I can't tell what it is. Something feels...missing from me. I have no reason to feel this way. I am king! I have the best food, the best clothes, hundreds of men at my command. My people are happy. What is it that I should be worried about?
I feel restless. I want to go somewhere, but I don't know where. I want to do something, but I don't know what. I despise anyone laughing. I despise smiles and seeing any happiness. How dare they be happy when I am not?! But what can make me happy? I try to read about my past victories. I survey my palace grounds. I spend time with my wives and children. Nothing feels right. Nothing fills that emptiness in my soul. That deep, hollow pit in the middle of my stomach that churns my insides so I can't eat anything. That anxious feeling that has descended on my very existence and won't leave me. It's like a mosquito buzzing constantly by my ear.
It's mounting now. Even when I find the most serene spot at the palace, it still follows me. I can't escape it. It haunts me even in my dreams. I dream of falling into darkness. I dream of being killed in battle and my body disgraced. I dream of being destitute. I dream of emptiness.
Can't someone help me?! Can't someone have mercy on me and take away this feeling that has robbed me of every happiness?! I need it to go away!
Friday, January 25, 2013
Day 25: When He Went Crazy
The Prompt: In Daniel 4, Nebuchadnezzar went mad and ate grass like an ox. What happened to him? How did he live, think, and feel? Describe him after he went mad.
I would imagine his sanity left him gradually. He probably had the urge to eat grass every now and then and tried as hard as he could to suppress it. This probably only added to his insanity. When he wanted to eat the grass and act like an ox, his mind thought only like an animal's. He had no memories of his life as king.
When his subjects found out what was happening to Nebby, they probably put him away to hide the disgrace. Then, when he realized that he was locked away, in one of his lucid moments, he was outraged and probably tried his best to get out of the jail, cursing, pulling at the bars, and the like. He thought they had betrayed him. For months, he suffered fits of anger followed by his bovine urges, with fewer breaks in between the urges.
I always imagined that when he did go fully crazy, he lived out in the wilderness. No one recognized him, with his hair long and tangled and his clothes unkempt. He probably resembled the stereotypical caveman. I think at this point, Nebby hit his lowest point. He was barely human. His subjects mourned him and his lost glory. He was abandoned; no one visited him. I expect that at this point, Nebby sat in his filth and could remember everything about his past. I'm sure Daniel's words from God and his dream's interpretations especially rang in his ears. He felt angry, guilty, depressed, despicable, and finally humble. It was an awful feeling, realizing he had been wrong all these years and wishing he had the chance to relive his life. If God had given him that chance though, would Nebuchadnezzar had really acted any differently?
I would imagine his sanity left him gradually. He probably had the urge to eat grass every now and then and tried as hard as he could to suppress it. This probably only added to his insanity. When he wanted to eat the grass and act like an ox, his mind thought only like an animal's. He had no memories of his life as king.
When his subjects found out what was happening to Nebby, they probably put him away to hide the disgrace. Then, when he realized that he was locked away, in one of his lucid moments, he was outraged and probably tried his best to get out of the jail, cursing, pulling at the bars, and the like. He thought they had betrayed him. For months, he suffered fits of anger followed by his bovine urges, with fewer breaks in between the urges.
I always imagined that when he did go fully crazy, he lived out in the wilderness. No one recognized him, with his hair long and tangled and his clothes unkempt. He probably resembled the stereotypical caveman. I think at this point, Nebby hit his lowest point. He was barely human. His subjects mourned him and his lost glory. He was abandoned; no one visited him. I expect that at this point, Nebby sat in his filth and could remember everything about his past. I'm sure Daniel's words from God and his dream's interpretations especially rang in his ears. He felt angry, guilty, depressed, despicable, and finally humble. It was an awful feeling, realizing he had been wrong all these years and wishing he had the chance to relive his life. If God had given him that chance though, would Nebuchadnezzar had really acted any differently?
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Day 24: Pastor's Secret
The Prompt: Pastor has a secret, and if anyone finds out, it could ruin him. What is it?
My fiction professor asked us to write opening sentences that give as much information as possible. I tried to do that with today's prompt.
He paced back and forth inside his office for who knows how long, the carpet showing a distinct groove from the path his lean yet youthful legs had made. He always did this when he was deep in thought, and the staff knew by this time to keep leave him alone when they saw him like this. Consequently, the pastor usually left his door slightly ajar. This time, however, he had it closed. The burden in his heart was just too great.
It had seemed so innocent the first time he said it. It just...happened. He meant to correct what he said the first time it slipped out, but he never got around to it. Then, when he thought about correcting himself, he thought that it was no longer relevant. Then, the situation came up again, and like all white lies, he had to give another small one to cover it up. Pretty soon, his white lies had become as the groove his feet were making now, a steep trench that was quite hard to get out of.
He had thought of telling the truth about four months ago, but so much time had gone by that telling his congregation the truth was harder than it had to be. Each Sunday that passed without his confession left an even heavier burden on his heart. It didn't help matters much when three months ago his daily devotions took him through the book of Exodus, and he stumbled upon the Ten Commandments. "Thou shalt not lie." This situation had pushed him quite close to telling the truth, but the same thing held him back each time.
Telling the truth could ruin his whole reputation as a preacher. He knew he wasn't supposed to put value on human esteem, but he cared deeply about his congregation's feelings. They loved his stories, and telling them the truth would ruin him. Over the course of his sermons, he had unintentionally worked this white lie into his sermons until his congregation expected it from him almost weekly. It was his running joke. He had even started elaborating on the lie.
The situation only got worse when members of the church started asking him about it, wanting to see proof of his stories. Another lie had to be fabricated to excuse himself from obliging them, and he could feel God's disappointment in him grow. It had gotten so bad he could barely preach a decent sermon these past couple of weeks, let alone pray to God. How could he pretend with God nothing was wrong? He'd be hypocritical!
He stopped pacing now and stared at the colored sheet of paper that was still clutched in his hands. Kourtney, one of his oldest members, had given him the flyer right after service that day, overjoyed to tell him the great news. She had signed him up for the event that the flyer was advertising for; he was going to be one of the featured judges because of his "vast experience with that sort of thing." Now he was pushed into a corner with nowhere else to run. This situation demanded him to produce proof of his lie, and he could not deliver. This was his last and only chance to tell the truth now. He took a deep inhale and exhale, bracing himself for the decision he knew had to be made. He had to tell them the truth, today. He had to tell them that he had actually never owned a dog.
My fiction professor asked us to write opening sentences that give as much information as possible. I tried to do that with today's prompt.
He paced back and forth inside his office for who knows how long, the carpet showing a distinct groove from the path his lean yet youthful legs had made. He always did this when he was deep in thought, and the staff knew by this time to keep leave him alone when they saw him like this. Consequently, the pastor usually left his door slightly ajar. This time, however, he had it closed. The burden in his heart was just too great.
It had seemed so innocent the first time he said it. It just...happened. He meant to correct what he said the first time it slipped out, but he never got around to it. Then, when he thought about correcting himself, he thought that it was no longer relevant. Then, the situation came up again, and like all white lies, he had to give another small one to cover it up. Pretty soon, his white lies had become as the groove his feet were making now, a steep trench that was quite hard to get out of.
He had thought of telling the truth about four months ago, but so much time had gone by that telling his congregation the truth was harder than it had to be. Each Sunday that passed without his confession left an even heavier burden on his heart. It didn't help matters much when three months ago his daily devotions took him through the book of Exodus, and he stumbled upon the Ten Commandments. "Thou shalt not lie." This situation had pushed him quite close to telling the truth, but the same thing held him back each time.
Telling the truth could ruin his whole reputation as a preacher. He knew he wasn't supposed to put value on human esteem, but he cared deeply about his congregation's feelings. They loved his stories, and telling them the truth would ruin him. Over the course of his sermons, he had unintentionally worked this white lie into his sermons until his congregation expected it from him almost weekly. It was his running joke. He had even started elaborating on the lie.
The situation only got worse when members of the church started asking him about it, wanting to see proof of his stories. Another lie had to be fabricated to excuse himself from obliging them, and he could feel God's disappointment in him grow. It had gotten so bad he could barely preach a decent sermon these past couple of weeks, let alone pray to God. How could he pretend with God nothing was wrong? He'd be hypocritical!
He stopped pacing now and stared at the colored sheet of paper that was still clutched in his hands. Kourtney, one of his oldest members, had given him the flyer right after service that day, overjoyed to tell him the great news. She had signed him up for the event that the flyer was advertising for; he was going to be one of the featured judges because of his "vast experience with that sort of thing." Now he was pushed into a corner with nowhere else to run. This situation demanded him to produce proof of his lie, and he could not deliver. This was his last and only chance to tell the truth now. He took a deep inhale and exhale, bracing himself for the decision he knew had to be made. He had to tell them the truth, today. He had to tell them that he had actually never owned a dog.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Day 23: Practice with Oblique Dialogue
The Prompt: Write a conversation that is all oblique dialogue.
You are probably asking yourself, "What is 'oblique dialogue'?" I didn't know either until today, so I did a quick internet search and found this lovely article that explains all about it in great detail. To sum it all up, I understand that it basically means to dance around the truth. So, here is my first attempt at oblique dialogue.
"Vicki, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, David, everything is great."
"Are you sure? Because you seem kind of stressed."
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
"Well, maybe I'm not."
"Then why didn't you answer me the first time?"
"It's always about you, isn't it?"
"Please, Vicki, don't do this."
"See? Nothing about why I might not be feeling okay, only concerned about yourself."
"Is this about not making it to your recital on Monday?"
"Since you're bringing it up, I still haven't forgiven you for it."
"I told you. I had a deadline I needed to meet. I still sent you roses."
"Yes, but roses doesn't replace you! Yet you seem to think your computer could replace me."
"Oh give me a break! You are being way out of line, as usual."
"Just showing me more of my faults, huh?"
"Seems like you're doing the same thing to me."
"David, can you please just show me a little consideration, for once in our relationship?"
"I've been plenty considerate, and giving, and sympathetic, but you always seem to want more!"
"I'm not going to take this from you."
"I'm tired of hearing from you. I'll call you later , Vicki, when we're both not so upset. Bye."
Well, that's all I have for now. Why do you think? Did I seem to write oblique dialogue?
You are probably asking yourself, "What is 'oblique dialogue'?" I didn't know either until today, so I did a quick internet search and found this lovely article that explains all about it in great detail. To sum it all up, I understand that it basically means to dance around the truth. So, here is my first attempt at oblique dialogue.
"Vicki, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, David, everything is great."
"Are you sure? Because you seem kind of stressed."
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
"Well, maybe I'm not."
"Then why didn't you answer me the first time?"
"It's always about you, isn't it?"
"Please, Vicki, don't do this."
"See? Nothing about why I might not be feeling okay, only concerned about yourself."
"Is this about not making it to your recital on Monday?"
"Since you're bringing it up, I still haven't forgiven you for it."
"I told you. I had a deadline I needed to meet. I still sent you roses."
"Yes, but roses doesn't replace you! Yet you seem to think your computer could replace me."
"Oh give me a break! You are being way out of line, as usual."
"Just showing me more of my faults, huh?"
"Seems like you're doing the same thing to me."
"David, can you please just show me a little consideration, for once in our relationship?"
"I've been plenty considerate, and giving, and sympathetic, but you always seem to want more!"
"I'm not going to take this from you."
"I'm tired of hearing from you. I'll call you later , Vicki, when we're both not so upset. Bye."
Well, that's all I have for now. Why do you think? Did I seem to write oblique dialogue?
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Day 22: Dresses Vs. Jeans
Today was my first day back at school, so in the future, my posts might
look shorter. I might also switch the prompts out if I can use this
blog to help me in my Fiction Writing class I'm taking.
The Prompt: Mary thinks a woman should wear dresses to church, while Emily says it's okay to wear jeans. Write only their conversation, no narrative.
"Emily, the Bible clearly states that women should not wear mens' clothes, and a man should not wear a woman's clothing. I think it's not only Biblical but proper that women wear dresses."
"Mary, I don't like to disagree with you, but I must. That argument makes it sound like we're back in the '20s. Once women got the right to vote, they could wear pants. Our culture has made it that it's acceptable to wear pants, just as in Scotland it's okay for men to wear skirts or kilts. It's not cross-dressing but part of the norms in our society."
"Okay, you're right about that, I suppose, but I just can't imagine wearing jeans to church. Dress pants is one thing but jeans?"
"And what's wrong with jeans? They're not revealing like shorts are."
"But they could be tight-fitted. It can distract men from the purpose of going to church."
"And so can short, tight-fitting dresses, Mary. It's all how each woman chooses to dress. Both types of clothes offer modesty or immodesty."
"I guess I can't make you agree with me. Everyone is entitled to their opinions."
"Thank you for saying that."
"But what about tradition? You can't think that maybe it's nice to wear dresses out of tradition?"
"There's nothing wrong with tradition, but I don't think women should feel bad because they refuse to wear jeans sometimes."
"No, but it's just...showing respect. I think traditions like that are a lost art. Plus, it gives women an extra occasion to dress up. I look forward to Sundays for that reason."
"A woman can feel pretty in a comfy pair of jeans and a frilly top too. Mary, let's say we just end our discussion here? There's no point in continuing."
"You're right. It's getting us nowhere. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever."
The Prompt: Mary thinks a woman should wear dresses to church, while Emily says it's okay to wear jeans. Write only their conversation, no narrative.
"Emily, the Bible clearly states that women should not wear mens' clothes, and a man should not wear a woman's clothing. I think it's not only Biblical but proper that women wear dresses."
"Mary, I don't like to disagree with you, but I must. That argument makes it sound like we're back in the '20s. Once women got the right to vote, they could wear pants. Our culture has made it that it's acceptable to wear pants, just as in Scotland it's okay for men to wear skirts or kilts. It's not cross-dressing but part of the norms in our society."
"Okay, you're right about that, I suppose, but I just can't imagine wearing jeans to church. Dress pants is one thing but jeans?"
"And what's wrong with jeans? They're not revealing like shorts are."
"But they could be tight-fitted. It can distract men from the purpose of going to church."
"And so can short, tight-fitting dresses, Mary. It's all how each woman chooses to dress. Both types of clothes offer modesty or immodesty."
"I guess I can't make you agree with me. Everyone is entitled to their opinions."
"Thank you for saying that."
"But what about tradition? You can't think that maybe it's nice to wear dresses out of tradition?"
"There's nothing wrong with tradition, but I don't think women should feel bad because they refuse to wear jeans sometimes."
"No, but it's just...showing respect. I think traditions like that are a lost art. Plus, it gives women an extra occasion to dress up. I look forward to Sundays for that reason."
"A woman can feel pretty in a comfy pair of jeans and a frilly top too. Mary, let's say we just end our discussion here? There's no point in continuing."
"You're right. It's getting us nowhere. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever."
Monday, January 21, 2013
Day 21: Sunday School Lesson
The Prompt: Write a Sunday school lesson for five-year-olds.
This should be interesting. This is taken from Joshua 10.
Do you remember the story of Joshua and the big wall at Jericho? Joshua had obeyed God and marched around the wall seven times, and the wall came down. Well God worked another miracle for Joshua. Sometime after that happened, Joshua had become friends with some of their neighbors in the city of Gibeon. But there were some kings in the land that were mad Joshua was living there, so they decided to be mean and hurt Joshua's friends at Gibeon.
Joshua prayed to God and asked that He would help him save his friends. God promised that they would be safe. Joshua believed God and started marching to Gibeon to save them, but they had to march a long time. Joshua was worried that he would not have enough time to stop the evil kings since he had traveled so long, so he prayed to God, asking him to stop the sun for a whole day so he could have more time. And you know what? God heard Joshua's prayer, and He did just that. God made the sun stop in the sky, and it stayed up all through the night. Joshua was bale to defeat the evil kings, and nobody at Gibeon was hurt.
Just like Joshua obeyed God and believed Him, you should obey God too by following the Ten Commandments that you have heard. God loves you, just like He loved Joshua, and He listens to your prayers too. No matter if it's big or small, if you pray to God and believe, He will answer your prayers. God might not always give you what you want right away, but He will give you what you need, just like your daddy takes care of you.
This should be interesting. This is taken from Joshua 10.
Do you remember the story of Joshua and the big wall at Jericho? Joshua had obeyed God and marched around the wall seven times, and the wall came down. Well God worked another miracle for Joshua. Sometime after that happened, Joshua had become friends with some of their neighbors in the city of Gibeon. But there were some kings in the land that were mad Joshua was living there, so they decided to be mean and hurt Joshua's friends at Gibeon.
Joshua prayed to God and asked that He would help him save his friends. God promised that they would be safe. Joshua believed God and started marching to Gibeon to save them, but they had to march a long time. Joshua was worried that he would not have enough time to stop the evil kings since he had traveled so long, so he prayed to God, asking him to stop the sun for a whole day so he could have more time. And you know what? God heard Joshua's prayer, and He did just that. God made the sun stop in the sky, and it stayed up all through the night. Joshua was bale to defeat the evil kings, and nobody at Gibeon was hurt.
Just like Joshua obeyed God and believed Him, you should obey God too by following the Ten Commandments that you have heard. God loves you, just like He loved Joshua, and He listens to your prayers too. No matter if it's big or small, if you pray to God and believe, He will answer your prayers. God might not always give you what you want right away, but He will give you what you need, just like your daddy takes care of you.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Day 20: A New Season
The Prompt: Why would a pastor think of leaving the pulpit?
I look back on that time of my life and part of me feels ashamed. Another part of me welcomes the memories that I am only human. Sometimes I can't believe I could actually fall into such a web of thinking. It's not a black and white decision like you would think. It's easy for the devil to attack you when you are weak, and that is exactly how I was.
It can get discouraging when you come into church to preach two and three sermons at least once a week, sacrificing your time and energy, and your congregation doesn't seem to appreciate it. They accept it. I know I shouldn't do it for them but for God, so I put the feeling out of my head. It's another matter though when you work hard all week on a sermon, trying to give a good message, make it relatable, and sprinkle it with humor, and it hardly seems to affect your audience. You start to question yourself, your qualifications to preach, your inspiration, your messages. You start to doubt if there is someone else out there better for the job.
These are the seeds of doubt that I let seep into me over the last few months. I don't blame any of you, so please do not feel guilty. There is nothing to be guilty for. I am sharing this to you all now because I want you to not make the same mistake I did. A Christian should recognize the truth from the lies Satan tells, but he enters you when you are weak. That is why I implore to pray about your doubts and fears. Let God cast them from your mind. Don't let them sit and fester as I did. Nip them in bud as soon as the first tiny lie creeps into your head. The Lord will help you.
After I went through that period in my life of questioning, I came out a stronger Christian and a stronger pastor. My reason for being your pastor has been made new to me. I am rejuvenated and ready for the next season serving you. I am just truly sorry I ever considered letting you all down by thinking about leaving.
I look back on that time of my life and part of me feels ashamed. Another part of me welcomes the memories that I am only human. Sometimes I can't believe I could actually fall into such a web of thinking. It's not a black and white decision like you would think. It's easy for the devil to attack you when you are weak, and that is exactly how I was.
It can get discouraging when you come into church to preach two and three sermons at least once a week, sacrificing your time and energy, and your congregation doesn't seem to appreciate it. They accept it. I know I shouldn't do it for them but for God, so I put the feeling out of my head. It's another matter though when you work hard all week on a sermon, trying to give a good message, make it relatable, and sprinkle it with humor, and it hardly seems to affect your audience. You start to question yourself, your qualifications to preach, your inspiration, your messages. You start to doubt if there is someone else out there better for the job.
These are the seeds of doubt that I let seep into me over the last few months. I don't blame any of you, so please do not feel guilty. There is nothing to be guilty for. I am sharing this to you all now because I want you to not make the same mistake I did. A Christian should recognize the truth from the lies Satan tells, but he enters you when you are weak. That is why I implore to pray about your doubts and fears. Let God cast them from your mind. Don't let them sit and fester as I did. Nip them in bud as soon as the first tiny lie creeps into your head. The Lord will help you.
After I went through that period in my life of questioning, I came out a stronger Christian and a stronger pastor. My reason for being your pastor has been made new to me. I am rejuvenated and ready for the next season serving you. I am just truly sorry I ever considered letting you all down by thinking about leaving.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Day 19: Sunday School
The Prompt: What is your first memory regarding Sunday School?
I think my earliest memories of Sunday School were when I was at Awanas. They could have been held at the same area. I would have been about four or five. I remember sitting around in a group on a carpeted floor with other kids and one of the teachers helping me. I remember having my Cubbies book, the first step in the Awanas program, and the teacher was explaining to me what I needed to do in the book. There could have been another time I was there when I was coloring a picture. I don't remember any of the lessons.
I remember Sunday School a little better when I was six. We were living somewhere else at the time, and the lessons were held in old classroom buildings (I think). I remember the very first lesson I had there. I had been with my parents in the main church building, and then they ushered the kids into another building so we could have our own service. The teacher told us a redemption story, and I remember being scared at what would happen if I didn't accept Jesus. I later came to the decision to accept Him at home with my parents, but that lesson planted the seed to accepting Jesus.
I think my earliest memories of Sunday School were when I was at Awanas. They could have been held at the same area. I would have been about four or five. I remember sitting around in a group on a carpeted floor with other kids and one of the teachers helping me. I remember having my Cubbies book, the first step in the Awanas program, and the teacher was explaining to me what I needed to do in the book. There could have been another time I was there when I was coloring a picture. I don't remember any of the lessons.
I remember Sunday School a little better when I was six. We were living somewhere else at the time, and the lessons were held in old classroom buildings (I think). I remember the very first lesson I had there. I had been with my parents in the main church building, and then they ushered the kids into another building so we could have our own service. The teacher told us a redemption story, and I remember being scared at what would happen if I didn't accept Jesus. I later came to the decision to accept Him at home with my parents, but that lesson planted the seed to accepting Jesus.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Day 18
Today's prompt was supposed to be about what a pastor does when terrorists kidnap his family. I did not want to write about that, so I chose a topic from my secondary list of ideas. So the new prompt is something that is illegal that you think should be legal.
Nothing exactly comes to mind that fits that description exactly. Along those lines though is the separation of church and state idea. I know that the Constitution does not say these words exactly, but it is has been interpreted to say so. I think it's just an excuse to limit my rights to worship. The Constitution says we have a freedom of religion. To me, that means I am allowed to practice any religion I choose. If I choose to pray somewhere, I don't appreciate people telling me I'm not allowed to pray there because it might upset other people. What about me? I'm not forcing religion down people's throats. It's part of my religion to pray to God. If it makes other people uncomfortable, they can leave. In a way, isn't it limiting my freedom of speech too?
Things get a little harder when schools or city property is involved. I understand that some parents don't want their children to be converted while they are in school, but I think all religions and ideas should be taught, and children can make up their own minds. It's unfair if you teach evolution as fact when it is not. Science even dictates that nothing is certain. It takes just as much, perhaps even more faith, to believe in evolution.
Okay, that's enough of a rant. What is your opinion? What would you answer if you had this prompt?
Nothing exactly comes to mind that fits that description exactly. Along those lines though is the separation of church and state idea. I know that the Constitution does not say these words exactly, but it is has been interpreted to say so. I think it's just an excuse to limit my rights to worship. The Constitution says we have a freedom of religion. To me, that means I am allowed to practice any religion I choose. If I choose to pray somewhere, I don't appreciate people telling me I'm not allowed to pray there because it might upset other people. What about me? I'm not forcing religion down people's throats. It's part of my religion to pray to God. If it makes other people uncomfortable, they can leave. In a way, isn't it limiting my freedom of speech too?
Things get a little harder when schools or city property is involved. I understand that some parents don't want their children to be converted while they are in school, but I think all religions and ideas should be taught, and children can make up their own minds. It's unfair if you teach evolution as fact when it is not. Science even dictates that nothing is certain. It takes just as much, perhaps even more faith, to believe in evolution.
Okay, that's enough of a rant. What is your opinion? What would you answer if you had this prompt?
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Day 17: The Note
The Prompt: Someone gives the pastor a note while he's preaching. What does it say?
Pastor Reynolds did the best he could to stifle another yawn. He only had to preach this last sermon, and he would be done for the day. For a split second, he regretted staying up past 2:00 in the morning to revise his sermon, but after the reception it had gotten in the first two services, he knew he would do it all over again. That was part of his job description, after all. He had a duty to his congregation, and he was willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to serve them.
The final hymn ended, and Pastor Reynolds rose to face the congregation. It was a nice full service again, but the third service usually was. People liked staying up late on Saturday nights and slept in on Sundays as much as they could. Pastor Reynolds thanked the worship team and opened his Bible to begin with the sermon. His notes laid next to the worn Good Book on the pulpit, but he was barely referring to them. By this time, he had the whole sermon practically memorized.
No one could guess that the pastor had slept for only three hours. His eyes still twinkled with the joy of his message to deliver, and the sermon was as animated as it normally was. It was undeniable that Pastor Reynolds was running on pure Holy Spirit by this time. The church was quiet, save for the occasional coughs and sneezes. They gave their pastor their undivided attention.
Just as Pastor Reynolds was getting to the climax of his final point in the sermon, Becky, one of the worship leaders nudged her husband's arm. He looked at her confused. She pointed at her watch then glanced at Pastor Reynolds. Her husband nodded, as realization hit his face, and he rose from his seat at the far right of the front pew. Becky had turned around for a minute and stared at the back door. A few nodding heads reassured her that she was doing everything according to plan.
Pastor Reynolds was not phased by any of the actions thus far. He was quite use to any distractions in church and simply focused on those who were still listening to him. He was confused when Becky's husband walked up the steps to the platform, but he still continued preaching. Then he was tapped on the shoulder. Slightly irritated, he covered up the microphone, leaned over, and whispered, "What is it, Todd?"
"I'm sorry, Pastor Reynolds," he whispered sincerely, "but I needed to give you this. It's urgent." With that, Todd passed him a folded-up piece of paper and went back to his seat.
Pastor Reynolds quickly unfolded the paper, while part of the congregation started wondering in hushed tones what was going on.
"Look outside the church," the note read.
Pastor Reynolds stared at the paper, as if expecting that this would make more writing appear on it. He looked at Todd and Becky for help, who were staring expressionless back at him. With a slight sigh, he announced, "Please excuse me, everyone, for just one moment. I need to step outside."
Embarrassed, the pastor stepped down from the pulpit and walked out the side door. As soon as he had his back turned, those that knew what would be waiting for him rose excitedly and walked out the front doors of the church, hoping they would make it in time to see the pastor's reaction.
"Livvy, what are you doing here?" Pastor Reynolds asked, sliding his hand through his graying hair as he often did when he was nervous. "I thought you went home after the second service. You said you were ill."
His wife smiled. "I had to tell you that, otherwise you would have suspected."
"Suspected what?"
Olivia turned around and called towards a tree, "You can come out now!"
There, emerging behind the tree, was a shorter man of about 24. He was still wearing his uniform that he had flown back in, and walked with a slight limp over to the astonished man. "Happy Birthday, Dad."
"Evan, you're home!" Pastor Reynolds cried as he held his son in a tight hug. "I thought you said you couldn't be on leave until next month!"
"Uncle Rick was bale to pull some strings for me. You didn't think I'd miss my own dad's fiftieth birthday, do you?"
"This is the best birthday present you could ever give me." He squeezed his son tighter.
"Dear, I think you should turn around."
Pastor Reynolds did as his wife advised and saw a large banner along the side of the church that read, "Happy 50th, Pastor Reynolds!". Balloons were tied in the bushes, and Pastor Reynolds could see picnic tables with food and more balloons set up behind the church. By this time, the whole congregation was outside, standing either in the front or the back of the building.
"Happy Birthday, Pastor Reynolds!" they cried in unison.
The pastor was speechless.
Becky walked up. "Pastor Reynolds, you're a wonderful man. You have done so much good for us, the church and this town, and we wanted to do something for you for a change."
"Sorry we had to interrupt the sermon," Todd added, "but we didn't want to keep Evan waiting any longer."
Pastor Reynolds wiped away the tears. "I am overwhelmed with such a gesture of kindness and love from you all. Thank you," he addressed the crowd. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart!"
Pastor Reynolds did the best he could to stifle another yawn. He only had to preach this last sermon, and he would be done for the day. For a split second, he regretted staying up past 2:00 in the morning to revise his sermon, but after the reception it had gotten in the first two services, he knew he would do it all over again. That was part of his job description, after all. He had a duty to his congregation, and he was willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to serve them.
The final hymn ended, and Pastor Reynolds rose to face the congregation. It was a nice full service again, but the third service usually was. People liked staying up late on Saturday nights and slept in on Sundays as much as they could. Pastor Reynolds thanked the worship team and opened his Bible to begin with the sermon. His notes laid next to the worn Good Book on the pulpit, but he was barely referring to them. By this time, he had the whole sermon practically memorized.
No one could guess that the pastor had slept for only three hours. His eyes still twinkled with the joy of his message to deliver, and the sermon was as animated as it normally was. It was undeniable that Pastor Reynolds was running on pure Holy Spirit by this time. The church was quiet, save for the occasional coughs and sneezes. They gave their pastor their undivided attention.
Just as Pastor Reynolds was getting to the climax of his final point in the sermon, Becky, one of the worship leaders nudged her husband's arm. He looked at her confused. She pointed at her watch then glanced at Pastor Reynolds. Her husband nodded, as realization hit his face, and he rose from his seat at the far right of the front pew. Becky had turned around for a minute and stared at the back door. A few nodding heads reassured her that she was doing everything according to plan.
Pastor Reynolds was not phased by any of the actions thus far. He was quite use to any distractions in church and simply focused on those who were still listening to him. He was confused when Becky's husband walked up the steps to the platform, but he still continued preaching. Then he was tapped on the shoulder. Slightly irritated, he covered up the microphone, leaned over, and whispered, "What is it, Todd?"
"I'm sorry, Pastor Reynolds," he whispered sincerely, "but I needed to give you this. It's urgent." With that, Todd passed him a folded-up piece of paper and went back to his seat.
Pastor Reynolds quickly unfolded the paper, while part of the congregation started wondering in hushed tones what was going on.
"Look outside the church," the note read.
Pastor Reynolds stared at the paper, as if expecting that this would make more writing appear on it. He looked at Todd and Becky for help, who were staring expressionless back at him. With a slight sigh, he announced, "Please excuse me, everyone, for just one moment. I need to step outside."
Embarrassed, the pastor stepped down from the pulpit and walked out the side door. As soon as he had his back turned, those that knew what would be waiting for him rose excitedly and walked out the front doors of the church, hoping they would make it in time to see the pastor's reaction.
"Livvy, what are you doing here?" Pastor Reynolds asked, sliding his hand through his graying hair as he often did when he was nervous. "I thought you went home after the second service. You said you were ill."
His wife smiled. "I had to tell you that, otherwise you would have suspected."
"Suspected what?"
Olivia turned around and called towards a tree, "You can come out now!"
There, emerging behind the tree, was a shorter man of about 24. He was still wearing his uniform that he had flown back in, and walked with a slight limp over to the astonished man. "Happy Birthday, Dad."
"Evan, you're home!" Pastor Reynolds cried as he held his son in a tight hug. "I thought you said you couldn't be on leave until next month!"
"Uncle Rick was bale to pull some strings for me. You didn't think I'd miss my own dad's fiftieth birthday, do you?"
"This is the best birthday present you could ever give me." He squeezed his son tighter.
"Dear, I think you should turn around."
Pastor Reynolds did as his wife advised and saw a large banner along the side of the church that read, "Happy 50th, Pastor Reynolds!". Balloons were tied in the bushes, and Pastor Reynolds could see picnic tables with food and more balloons set up behind the church. By this time, the whole congregation was outside, standing either in the front or the back of the building.
"Happy Birthday, Pastor Reynolds!" they cried in unison.
The pastor was speechless.
Becky walked up. "Pastor Reynolds, you're a wonderful man. You have done so much good for us, the church and this town, and we wanted to do something for you for a change."
"Sorry we had to interrupt the sermon," Todd added, "but we didn't want to keep Evan waiting any longer."
Pastor Reynolds wiped away the tears. "I am overwhelmed with such a gesture of kindness and love from you all. Thank you," he addressed the crowd. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart!"
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Day 16: It's Just a Song
The Prompt: The worship team has a fight over a particular song. Some want to sing it, while others think it's too secular. What happens?
Matthew sighed and looked at his watch again. It was five after 2:00. "At this rate, I doubt anyone is going to show up."
Just then, he saw a red car drive up to the front of the youth worship center parking lot. Two teenagers, one with long brown hair and one with a blonde bob, stepped out and walked towards him.
"Hi, Matthew," the taller brunette greeted. There was a sense of awkwardness in her tone.
"Hello, Julie. Hi, Molly," he greeted the blonde, to which she acknowledged with a small smile.
"We're sorry we're a little late," Julie began. "Where's everyone else?"
"Robert said he would be here later because his shift didn't end until five minutes ago. Javier should be here any minute. I don't know where Donna is."
Molly bit her lower lip. "Donna is the lead female singer. If she doesn't show up, what's the point of this meeting?"
"She'll show up," Matthew stated firmly, more for himself than for Molly.
Javier drove up a minute later, and the four decided to wait inside for the rest of the worship team to show up. They started a light conversation, ignoring the problem that had prompted them all to meet on a Tuesday afternoon instead of their usual practice days. Robert came at 2:15, and just when they had almost given up all hope on her, Donna showed up. She didn't offer an apology but looked vexed and anxious to settle their disagreement.
"Alright," Matthew said, resuming his role as their unofficial leader, "now that everyone is hear, we can begin our discussion. We had a night to cool off, pray, and clear our heads. How does everyone feel about the song?" He asked the last question firmly, but inside he was nervous hearing what everyone thought.
Donna opened the discussion with her usual direct opinion. "I still feel what I felt before. The song is too secular, and I refuse to sing it."
Matthew's spirit dropped. With that kind of close-minded attitude, their meeting was going to be a waste of time.
"I'm still in agreement with her," Julie added. "I listened to the words again, and while the song might draw more kids to church, the message that the words say is not something I think a church should give."
Donna grinned and nodded her approval. "Exactly what I think. Is it worth it to have a bigger crowd of kids when they're just going to be non-believers? The church won't be a safe haven for Christians anymore."
"A church isn't just for Christians," Matthew countered quickly. "It's for everyone, and sometimes we need to appeal to the outside world to draw them to church." He was starting to regret he'd ever suggested the idea in the first place.
"You're wrong!"
Javier joined in. "The pastor has a great series of sermons lined up, and I think the children would benefit from hearing them. The point of church is to save those which are lost. I say, the more the merrier."
"But the point of a worship service," Donna argued, "is to draw everyone to worship God. We would be hypocrites if the lyrics contradicted what the pastor just preached about."
"The lyrics can be interpreted any way you want," Matthew countered.
"What if we have the pastor announce our interpretation of the song beforehand?" Molly piped up.
"The Bible says, 'do not be conformed to this world,' " Donna quoted in a know-it-all tone.
"But that doesn't mean we should shun anything that doesn't mention God," Matthew continued.
"If it gives people wrong thoughts, then it is bad," Donna stated simply.
"Maybe we should just not worry about the song and stick to our old routine," Molly tried again.
"No," Donna turned to her. "We need to have this sorted out now. If we don't deal with the problem now, the same situation is going to come up later."
There was silence for a few moments before Robert spoke. "I prayed about this situation last night, and this is what I think. I don't care for the song myself, but I am not letting that sway my decision. The point is not whether or not the song is secular. We sing 'Happy Birthday,' and that could be secular. It is the sentiment behind the song. Remember how last year our church sung that song 'He Lives in You' from the second Lion King movie? The writers intended that to be about how the lion king's spirit lives in all the animals, but the words can be associated with God's spirit living in us. It stirred us to want to worship Him. We should be listening to the Holy Spirit when we choose our songs. If the song can draw us closer to Him, I say, let's sing it. If not, we should sing something else."
Everyone was quiet.
"I don't think of God very much when I hear the song," Javier admitted.
"Neither do I," Julie said.
"Same here," Molly agreed.
"I still feel the song is wrong, but now I don't want to sing it for different reasons," Donna said in an uncharacteristically subdued tone.
"I agree with you too," Matthew said guitily. "I guess I was so concerned about getting new people to come to church, I didn't care how we did it. I"m sorry, guys."
"And I'm sorry too." Donna added, looking mainly at Matthew. "I was acting self-righteous, and I said some pretty mean things to you. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course," Matthew said with a smile.
"I'm glad we got that worked out," Molly exhaled.
"Me too," the rest of the team said in unison.
With the shroud of anger and bad feelings lifted, everyone felt jovial again, and they wasted no time in beginning to decide what songs they would be singing for the worship service on Sunday.
Matthew sighed and looked at his watch again. It was five after 2:00. "At this rate, I doubt anyone is going to show up."
Just then, he saw a red car drive up to the front of the youth worship center parking lot. Two teenagers, one with long brown hair and one with a blonde bob, stepped out and walked towards him.
"Hi, Matthew," the taller brunette greeted. There was a sense of awkwardness in her tone.
"Hello, Julie. Hi, Molly," he greeted the blonde, to which she acknowledged with a small smile.
"We're sorry we're a little late," Julie began. "Where's everyone else?"
"Robert said he would be here later because his shift didn't end until five minutes ago. Javier should be here any minute. I don't know where Donna is."
Molly bit her lower lip. "Donna is the lead female singer. If she doesn't show up, what's the point of this meeting?"
"She'll show up," Matthew stated firmly, more for himself than for Molly.
Javier drove up a minute later, and the four decided to wait inside for the rest of the worship team to show up. They started a light conversation, ignoring the problem that had prompted them all to meet on a Tuesday afternoon instead of their usual practice days. Robert came at 2:15, and just when they had almost given up all hope on her, Donna showed up. She didn't offer an apology but looked vexed and anxious to settle their disagreement.
"Alright," Matthew said, resuming his role as their unofficial leader, "now that everyone is hear, we can begin our discussion. We had a night to cool off, pray, and clear our heads. How does everyone feel about the song?" He asked the last question firmly, but inside he was nervous hearing what everyone thought.
Donna opened the discussion with her usual direct opinion. "I still feel what I felt before. The song is too secular, and I refuse to sing it."
Matthew's spirit dropped. With that kind of close-minded attitude, their meeting was going to be a waste of time.
"I'm still in agreement with her," Julie added. "I listened to the words again, and while the song might draw more kids to church, the message that the words say is not something I think a church should give."
Donna grinned and nodded her approval. "Exactly what I think. Is it worth it to have a bigger crowd of kids when they're just going to be non-believers? The church won't be a safe haven for Christians anymore."
"A church isn't just for Christians," Matthew countered quickly. "It's for everyone, and sometimes we need to appeal to the outside world to draw them to church." He was starting to regret he'd ever suggested the idea in the first place.
"You're wrong!"
Javier joined in. "The pastor has a great series of sermons lined up, and I think the children would benefit from hearing them. The point of church is to save those which are lost. I say, the more the merrier."
"But the point of a worship service," Donna argued, "is to draw everyone to worship God. We would be hypocrites if the lyrics contradicted what the pastor just preached about."
"The lyrics can be interpreted any way you want," Matthew countered.
"What if we have the pastor announce our interpretation of the song beforehand?" Molly piped up.
"The Bible says, 'do not be conformed to this world,' " Donna quoted in a know-it-all tone.
"But that doesn't mean we should shun anything that doesn't mention God," Matthew continued.
"If it gives people wrong thoughts, then it is bad," Donna stated simply.
"Maybe we should just not worry about the song and stick to our old routine," Molly tried again.
"No," Donna turned to her. "We need to have this sorted out now. If we don't deal with the problem now, the same situation is going to come up later."
There was silence for a few moments before Robert spoke. "I prayed about this situation last night, and this is what I think. I don't care for the song myself, but I am not letting that sway my decision. The point is not whether or not the song is secular. We sing 'Happy Birthday,' and that could be secular. It is the sentiment behind the song. Remember how last year our church sung that song 'He Lives in You' from the second Lion King movie? The writers intended that to be about how the lion king's spirit lives in all the animals, but the words can be associated with God's spirit living in us. It stirred us to want to worship Him. We should be listening to the Holy Spirit when we choose our songs. If the song can draw us closer to Him, I say, let's sing it. If not, we should sing something else."
Everyone was quiet.
"I don't think of God very much when I hear the song," Javier admitted.
"Neither do I," Julie said.
"Same here," Molly agreed.
"I still feel the song is wrong, but now I don't want to sing it for different reasons," Donna said in an uncharacteristically subdued tone.
"I agree with you too," Matthew said guitily. "I guess I was so concerned about getting new people to come to church, I didn't care how we did it. I"m sorry, guys."
"And I'm sorry too." Donna added, looking mainly at Matthew. "I was acting self-righteous, and I said some pretty mean things to you. Will you forgive me?"
"Of course," Matthew said with a smile.
"I'm glad we got that worked out," Molly exhaled.
"Me too," the rest of the team said in unison.
With the shroud of anger and bad feelings lifted, everyone felt jovial again, and they wasted no time in beginning to decide what songs they would be singing for the worship service on Sunday.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Day 15: The Lions' Den
The Prompt: What happened with Daniel when he was in the lions' den?
Just because this is a writing challenge does not mean I should feel obligated to always write a story, so today I will be writing a poem. I do not write them very often, so this one will be a little weak.
Just because this is a writing challenge does not mean I should feel obligated to always write a story, so today I will be writing a poem. I do not write them very often, so this one will be a little weak.
I hit the ground with a thud.
The earth was cold, hard, and covered by mud.
All I could see was darkness.
All I could feel was darkness, endless darkness.
A low rumble was heard from deep within
Sounding menacing, hungry, and as evil as sin.
I could hear the claws of these beasts on the ground
As they scraped against the gravel that was all around.
Their eyes how they glowed like yellow orbital disks,
Convincing me the owners had nothing to risk.
Slowly the creatures surrounded on all sides,
Leaving me nowhere in that pit to hide.
This is the end, I thought to myself.
Then I remembered the One who could help.
I took a deep breath and murmured a prayer,
Knowing that God had always been there.
Lord, You can hear, help me tonight.
It looks as though I'm losing the fight.
If this is the end you seem fit to give,
Then please calm me in my final minutes to live.
I could feel hot breath closing in on me.
I started to shut my eyes, although I still couldn't see.
Then suddenly light, glorious light, appeared.
It filled the whole pit 'til nothing could be feared.
Confused, the lions scuffled and started to roar.
Then there was silence, just as before.
My eyes located some light that shone through a crack
And found that my hand had landed on a soft furry back.
I was astounded to see that lions were around me
But lying beside me as docile as could be.
My Lord has saved me, He did not forget.
I am sure there is still hope for me yet.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Day 14: An Unlikely Meeting
The Prompt: Kind David meets Daniel. What happens?
King David was sitting in his throne room. It was another typical day for him. At the moment, it was his time to go through the letters of requests to see if he could meet the needs of his kingdom before his young sons would come in for their regular visits. David looked forward to that time. As much as he loved being king, those visits reminded him of normal life again.
Just then one of King David's servants appeared at the room's entrance, interrupting the king's thoughts. "Your majesty, there is a foreigner here who insists upon seeing you. He claims he is a Jew, but he looks like he has come from Babylon."
King David was intrigued by this man. "Show him in."
"As you wish." With a bow the servant left and moments later returned with a tall young man dressed in Babylonian attire. He looked confused and excited. "May I introduce His Royal Majesty King David of Bethlehem. Majesty, this is Daniel." The servant took another bow and left.
King David and Daniel stood fixed where they were, staring into each other's eyes. Each one saw something familiar in the other that made them motionless, perhaps it was the light of God. Daniel was the first one who broke the gaze. "It is an honor to be here, your Majesty," he stated in a strong, humble voice and finished with a gracious bow.
King David smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you visiting our fine country and wishing to see me?"
Daniel explained that he was a Jew but had been taken captive by the Babylonians some years ago. That morning he had woken up and found himself back in his homeland. "I know it sounds far-fetched. I wouldn't even believe the story myself, but that is what happened. When I saw I was back, I explored the city and then wished I could see my king and tell him in person how impressed I am with all he has done."
"I am happy that you feel that way. Tell me, Daniel, what did you do in Babylon?"
Daniel then told King David how he and his three friends had stayed true to God's commands and refused to eat the rich food of Babylonians. He shared how God had been faithful to them and blessed them with good jobs in the king's court. King David was excited to hear that this guest was a man after his own heart- no, God's own heart, and he was amazed to hear how Daniel had been able to interpret King Nebuchadnezzar's dreams. He, in turn, shared with Daniel how had God helped him in his life. The two men talked for hours, learning a great deal from each other and praising God for the miracles He had worked in their lives.
I was out of ideas for this one... Thank you for sticking with me and taking the time to read these posts!
King David was sitting in his throne room. It was another typical day for him. At the moment, it was his time to go through the letters of requests to see if he could meet the needs of his kingdom before his young sons would come in for their regular visits. David looked forward to that time. As much as he loved being king, those visits reminded him of normal life again.
Just then one of King David's servants appeared at the room's entrance, interrupting the king's thoughts. "Your majesty, there is a foreigner here who insists upon seeing you. He claims he is a Jew, but he looks like he has come from Babylon."
King David was intrigued by this man. "Show him in."
"As you wish." With a bow the servant left and moments later returned with a tall young man dressed in Babylonian attire. He looked confused and excited. "May I introduce His Royal Majesty King David of Bethlehem. Majesty, this is Daniel." The servant took another bow and left.
King David and Daniel stood fixed where they were, staring into each other's eyes. Each one saw something familiar in the other that made them motionless, perhaps it was the light of God. Daniel was the first one who broke the gaze. "It is an honor to be here, your Majesty," he stated in a strong, humble voice and finished with a gracious bow.
King David smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you visiting our fine country and wishing to see me?"
Daniel explained that he was a Jew but had been taken captive by the Babylonians some years ago. That morning he had woken up and found himself back in his homeland. "I know it sounds far-fetched. I wouldn't even believe the story myself, but that is what happened. When I saw I was back, I explored the city and then wished I could see my king and tell him in person how impressed I am with all he has done."
"I am happy that you feel that way. Tell me, Daniel, what did you do in Babylon?"
Daniel then told King David how he and his three friends had stayed true to God's commands and refused to eat the rich food of Babylonians. He shared how God had been faithful to them and blessed them with good jobs in the king's court. King David was excited to hear that this guest was a man after his own heart- no, God's own heart, and he was amazed to hear how Daniel had been able to interpret King Nebuchadnezzar's dreams. He, in turn, shared with Daniel how had God helped him in his life. The two men talked for hours, learning a great deal from each other and praising God for the miracles He had worked in their lives.
I was out of ideas for this one... Thank you for sticking with me and taking the time to read these posts!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Day 13: The Thump
The Prompt: You are the last one to leave church, and you hear a loud thump between the aisles. What happens?
I stood motionless for a second, too terrified to move. I thought I was the last person to leave. Was it an animal? Did something fall? I listened carefully to see if I could hear any other noises. It was quiet. Cautiously, I turned around and took one small step towards the noise. My heart pounded loudly, and I tried to steady my breath in order to be as silent as possible. I rounded the corner of the pews and peered down the aisle. There was a book lying in the middle of it. This did not steady my mind. Sure, it was only a book, but how did it get there? It was in the middle of the aisle, not near a bench. I looked around to see if I could see anyone. No one.
I walked closer to the book, feeling like an animal who was walking towards a disguised trap in the woods. One of the church windows that was hanging open creaked in the gentle breeze. I was next to the book now, which turned out to be a Bible, and a very worn one at that. I stooped down, gingerly picked it up, and started flipping to the cover. I thought maybe it was the pastor's, but there was no name or inscription found. I sighed at the dead end. My hand was still holding the spot where the Bible had been lying open to, so I flipped back to the pages. There was a single line highlighted in green, 1 Peter 5:7. Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.
I slumped down in the pew and read the tiny verse over and over again. Peter was telling me to give God my burden, the things that had been weighing my heart down for weeks. They were personal problems that couldn't really share with anyone else. I felt they were sort of my private cross to bear. I tried to be strong, praying to God about them and reading my Bible, but the burden seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. This past week, I had grown miserable from the weight of them. I had hoped today's sermon would help, but nothing the pastor said today had been relative to me.
And now, here, sitting open my lap, was the very thing I had been searching for. God was saying I didn't have to struggle with this alone. I didn't have to try to fix it. I was to give it to him, just a small child would give his father a toy that needed fixing. God would fix it for me because He cared about me. He loved me. I stared at the large wooden cross that was affixed above the pulpit onto the wall in front of me and was reminded of Jesus. Even He couldn't carry His cross alone. Once all this fully sank in, a gush of tears flowed, releasing all the stress and pain I had been holding onto for weeks. I embraced the relief I felt as my body shook from the crying. I prayed aloud that God would release me from my burden and carry it for me.
Once I stopped crying, I sat there with my eyes closed. Even though I had no idea how my problems would be fixed, I was at peace knowing I had left them in capable hands. I could sense God's presence with me in that lonely church, and I wanted dwell near Him as much as I could. Suddenly, I felt something light touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at my shoulder and around me. Nothing was there. It was curious. I still didn't know where the Bible came from later. It didn't matter. I warmly touched the verse, which was a little wet from my tears, before I closed the Bible and placed it next to me on the pew. Someone would claim it. As I rose to go, something caught my eye under the pew in front of me. I bent down to take a closer look. It was a feather. A long, pure white feather.
I stood motionless for a second, too terrified to move. I thought I was the last person to leave. Was it an animal? Did something fall? I listened carefully to see if I could hear any other noises. It was quiet. Cautiously, I turned around and took one small step towards the noise. My heart pounded loudly, and I tried to steady my breath in order to be as silent as possible. I rounded the corner of the pews and peered down the aisle. There was a book lying in the middle of it. This did not steady my mind. Sure, it was only a book, but how did it get there? It was in the middle of the aisle, not near a bench. I looked around to see if I could see anyone. No one.
I walked closer to the book, feeling like an animal who was walking towards a disguised trap in the woods. One of the church windows that was hanging open creaked in the gentle breeze. I was next to the book now, which turned out to be a Bible, and a very worn one at that. I stooped down, gingerly picked it up, and started flipping to the cover. I thought maybe it was the pastor's, but there was no name or inscription found. I sighed at the dead end. My hand was still holding the spot where the Bible had been lying open to, so I flipped back to the pages. There was a single line highlighted in green, 1 Peter 5:7. Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.
I slumped down in the pew and read the tiny verse over and over again. Peter was telling me to give God my burden, the things that had been weighing my heart down for weeks. They were personal problems that couldn't really share with anyone else. I felt they were sort of my private cross to bear. I tried to be strong, praying to God about them and reading my Bible, but the burden seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. This past week, I had grown miserable from the weight of them. I had hoped today's sermon would help, but nothing the pastor said today had been relative to me.
And now, here, sitting open my lap, was the very thing I had been searching for. God was saying I didn't have to struggle with this alone. I didn't have to try to fix it. I was to give it to him, just a small child would give his father a toy that needed fixing. God would fix it for me because He cared about me. He loved me. I stared at the large wooden cross that was affixed above the pulpit onto the wall in front of me and was reminded of Jesus. Even He couldn't carry His cross alone. Once all this fully sank in, a gush of tears flowed, releasing all the stress and pain I had been holding onto for weeks. I embraced the relief I felt as my body shook from the crying. I prayed aloud that God would release me from my burden and carry it for me.
Once I stopped crying, I sat there with my eyes closed. Even though I had no idea how my problems would be fixed, I was at peace knowing I had left them in capable hands. I could sense God's presence with me in that lonely church, and I wanted dwell near Him as much as I could. Suddenly, I felt something light touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at my shoulder and around me. Nothing was there. It was curious. I still didn't know where the Bible came from later. It didn't matter. I warmly touched the verse, which was a little wet from my tears, before I closed the Bible and placed it next to me on the pew. Someone would claim it. As I rose to go, something caught my eye under the pew in front of me. I bent down to take a closer look. It was a feather. A long, pure white feather.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Day 12: Sheep
The Prompt: Write from one of David's sheep's POV.
I didn't have much time on the computer today, so this is rather short. This is probably the worst one I've posted so far.
It's kind of cold out today. I'm glad I have my wool coat. Ooo, that tuft of grass looks tasty. *Munch munch. Who's that coming over here? Oh it's David. He's such a kind master. I remember when he saved me from a hole in the ground. I didn't know it was there. It was hidden in the underbrush. But David knew where it was. He goaded me away from it. I could have broken a leg. Even his hand feels kind on my back. It feels strong, yet warm. He's knows just where to itch me.
Now he's going over to his favorite tree to sit and watch us. Master normally talks to God or writes down something on his scroll. See? I hear him talking to his God now. He sounds troubled. He's pacing around too. I wonder what is bothering him. Who is Goliath? I've never heard Master mention that name before. Now he's walking over to the river. Getting a drink perhaps? What's in the water that has caught his attention. It's...small...stones. He's pulling them out. One, two, three, four, five stones. What could Master want to do with those?
I didn't have much time on the computer today, so this is rather short. This is probably the worst one I've posted so far.
It's kind of cold out today. I'm glad I have my wool coat. Ooo, that tuft of grass looks tasty. *Munch munch. Who's that coming over here? Oh it's David. He's such a kind master. I remember when he saved me from a hole in the ground. I didn't know it was there. It was hidden in the underbrush. But David knew where it was. He goaded me away from it. I could have broken a leg. Even his hand feels kind on my back. It feels strong, yet warm. He's knows just where to itch me.
Now he's going over to his favorite tree to sit and watch us. Master normally talks to God or writes down something on his scroll. See? I hear him talking to his God now. He sounds troubled. He's pacing around too. I wonder what is bothering him. Who is Goliath? I've never heard Master mention that name before. Now he's walking over to the river. Getting a drink perhaps? What's in the water that has caught his attention. It's...small...stones. He's pulling them out. One, two, three, four, five stones. What could Master want to do with those?
Friday, January 11, 2013
Day 11: Longing for More
The Prompt: Flesh out the woman from the well who met Jesus and gave Him some water. Who is she? Why did she divorce all her husbands and live with her boyfriend? Why did the other woman not like her? What was her name?
I tried researching an accurate name for her, maybe something that meant "lost" or "sadness", but I couldn't find anything. She shall be named The Woman. As depressing as this story is, it was rather easy to write. You can't judge a person until you've walked a mile in her shoes.
When I was fourteen, I ran away and got married. I know that might sound a little young, but what can I say? I was in love. Pah! Love has never helped me any. I thought I was in love. It turns out my first husband was selfish and saw me only as someone he wanted when he felt like it. Otherwise, he made me clean and keep house until my hands were raw. I think our marriage really fell apart after we lost our first baby during delivery. He wouldn't forgive me for being a failure as a woman. I managed to divorce him by age 17. I married my second husband soon afterwards. I thought we were happy at first, but we grew apart. We really tried to make it work, but something was always missing. I think he met someone else towards the end. I could never prove it. We divorced after four years, and I took our two-year-old son with me.
My life changed forever after I met my third husband. He was my favorite, my only love. The world seemed brighter, everything seemed better with him by my side. I'll never forget the kindness he showed to me, a poor divorcee with a hungry toddler. He could have chosen any woman much better than me to marry. Instead, he chose to love me. I'll treasure that love forever. He always treated me right, and he loved my son like he was his own. He loved our daughter the same way. It's a shame he never got to see what his own son looked like. He was killed during a mob when he went to market one day. A part of me died with him.
The days were a blur after that. Thanks to his sister's kindness, I was not alone when my third child was born. She and her husband helped us out for a few months, giving us a room to share and enough food to eat, but I could not take advantage of her kindness any longer. I left in the cover of night. It was too painful living in a town where everywhere I turned I was reminded of my dead husband.
My children and I traveled for a few days before I finally found a place that was suitable for us all to live. We lived off of the charity of others for a little while, but there is only so much that can provide for three young ones. I had to do something to help take care of them. It went against what I wanted to do in my heart, but I was a desperate woman. I found a man in town who was rich and single, and I used my womanly charm to convince him to marry me. Too bad I have poor taste in men. He was mean and reminded me of my first husband. I think he even looked on me with disdain. Again, that marriage was short-lived, and I packed up my children and left.
By this time my oldest was nearly ten, but I felt like I had aged 15 years since I had him. I tried working out in the fields for a little while, gleaning what I could. Even the children helped when they could. Everyone was so nice to me in that town too. They thought I was a widow struggling to provide for my three children, which was partially true. Why did my younger son have to let it slip that Mommy had left another man before we moved? Public opinion changed towards us after that. Yet, still there was a man who looked kindly on us, who soon became husband #5.
I really think he married me out of pity at first, but perhaps he had fallen in love with me. He did look like he had a broken heart after I told him I wanted a divorce. Sure, call me cruel and heartless if you want. Maybe I was. I was tired an worn. My heart was so scarred you couldn't find a clean spot to stick a knife in it anymore. I couldn't let anybody, not even my husband get close to me. I couldn't bear to go through what happened with my dear third husband again. That's why I refused to love. I did feel guilty after leaving him though. The kids really seemed to like him. I probably wouldn't have left him if I had known I was pregnant. I didn't find out until a couple months later.
The town thought we divorced because I had an affair. I didn't care what they thought after that. I went back to gleaning. I didn't bring home as much as I used to, even though the harvest was plentiful. I couldn't live like this forever. I had a new baby. I was beginning to think even my children hated me. They needed a provider, stability, but I couldn't get married, not again. So I hung out around various unattached men, trying to see if they liked me enough to let us hang around. I was getting old. My feminine charm wasn't as strong as it used to be, but finally it caught someone's attention.
That's where I am now. My boyfriend and I have a mutual understanding. We like each other and have a good time sometimes, but we know it's not love. He's not sure if he's ready for marriage, and I don't want it. I let him see other women, and he helps me provide for my children. I have a side job, but I'm too ashamed to tell you what it is. It helps me feed my kids, and that's all that matters.
Even though this system works well, I feel a void in my life. I'm going through the motions. I'm not living. My oldest son ran away last year. My daughter doesn't respect me. Even my younger son is starting not to love me as much. Only my toddler loves me. She doesn't know any better yet. I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can't. I just have to live with my miserable existence. No one understands. They just glare at me and remember how I treated my last husband. No forgiveness. No love. How can anyone though, when I can't even feel that way towards myself?
I tried researching an accurate name for her, maybe something that meant "lost" or "sadness", but I couldn't find anything. She shall be named The Woman. As depressing as this story is, it was rather easy to write. You can't judge a person until you've walked a mile in her shoes.
When I was fourteen, I ran away and got married. I know that might sound a little young, but what can I say? I was in love. Pah! Love has never helped me any. I thought I was in love. It turns out my first husband was selfish and saw me only as someone he wanted when he felt like it. Otherwise, he made me clean and keep house until my hands were raw. I think our marriage really fell apart after we lost our first baby during delivery. He wouldn't forgive me for being a failure as a woman. I managed to divorce him by age 17. I married my second husband soon afterwards. I thought we were happy at first, but we grew apart. We really tried to make it work, but something was always missing. I think he met someone else towards the end. I could never prove it. We divorced after four years, and I took our two-year-old son with me.
My life changed forever after I met my third husband. He was my favorite, my only love. The world seemed brighter, everything seemed better with him by my side. I'll never forget the kindness he showed to me, a poor divorcee with a hungry toddler. He could have chosen any woman much better than me to marry. Instead, he chose to love me. I'll treasure that love forever. He always treated me right, and he loved my son like he was his own. He loved our daughter the same way. It's a shame he never got to see what his own son looked like. He was killed during a mob when he went to market one day. A part of me died with him.
The days were a blur after that. Thanks to his sister's kindness, I was not alone when my third child was born. She and her husband helped us out for a few months, giving us a room to share and enough food to eat, but I could not take advantage of her kindness any longer. I left in the cover of night. It was too painful living in a town where everywhere I turned I was reminded of my dead husband.
My children and I traveled for a few days before I finally found a place that was suitable for us all to live. We lived off of the charity of others for a little while, but there is only so much that can provide for three young ones. I had to do something to help take care of them. It went against what I wanted to do in my heart, but I was a desperate woman. I found a man in town who was rich and single, and I used my womanly charm to convince him to marry me. Too bad I have poor taste in men. He was mean and reminded me of my first husband. I think he even looked on me with disdain. Again, that marriage was short-lived, and I packed up my children and left.
By this time my oldest was nearly ten, but I felt like I had aged 15 years since I had him. I tried working out in the fields for a little while, gleaning what I could. Even the children helped when they could. Everyone was so nice to me in that town too. They thought I was a widow struggling to provide for my three children, which was partially true. Why did my younger son have to let it slip that Mommy had left another man before we moved? Public opinion changed towards us after that. Yet, still there was a man who looked kindly on us, who soon became husband #5.
I really think he married me out of pity at first, but perhaps he had fallen in love with me. He did look like he had a broken heart after I told him I wanted a divorce. Sure, call me cruel and heartless if you want. Maybe I was. I was tired an worn. My heart was so scarred you couldn't find a clean spot to stick a knife in it anymore. I couldn't let anybody, not even my husband get close to me. I couldn't bear to go through what happened with my dear third husband again. That's why I refused to love. I did feel guilty after leaving him though. The kids really seemed to like him. I probably wouldn't have left him if I had known I was pregnant. I didn't find out until a couple months later.
The town thought we divorced because I had an affair. I didn't care what they thought after that. I went back to gleaning. I didn't bring home as much as I used to, even though the harvest was plentiful. I couldn't live like this forever. I had a new baby. I was beginning to think even my children hated me. They needed a provider, stability, but I couldn't get married, not again. So I hung out around various unattached men, trying to see if they liked me enough to let us hang around. I was getting old. My feminine charm wasn't as strong as it used to be, but finally it caught someone's attention.
That's where I am now. My boyfriend and I have a mutual understanding. We like each other and have a good time sometimes, but we know it's not love. He's not sure if he's ready for marriage, and I don't want it. I let him see other women, and he helps me provide for my children. I have a side job, but I'm too ashamed to tell you what it is. It helps me feed my kids, and that's all that matters.
Even though this system works well, I feel a void in my life. I'm going through the motions. I'm not living. My oldest son ran away last year. My daughter doesn't respect me. Even my younger son is starting not to love me as much. Only my toddler loves me. She doesn't know any better yet. I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can't. I just have to live with my miserable existence. No one understands. They just glare at me and remember how I treated my last husband. No forgiveness. No love. How can anyone though, when I can't even feel that way towards myself?
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Day 10: God's Love
The Prompt: Write something inspirational.
Yay, I'm into double digits now! This prompt should be easy. :)
Here is something inspirational: God loves you. I know, I know, it seems like a fairly elementary idea, but think about what the words mean for a minute. God-the Maker of all the universe, the Supreme Being, the only powerful God- loves (definition: to have a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person; to have a feeling of intense desire; to thrive on or need) you. Yes, you, a mere human. A person who has made mistakes and failed Him in one way or another. A sinner. Yet, despite all our mistakes and shortcomings God continues to love us!
Now, this realization can either make you feel really guilty (which I don't want you to feel), or it can cause you to love God back with the beginnings of the same love He shows you. This is actually pretty easy to do once you can appreciate the intensity that God loves you. After all, God desires your love. That is why you were created. I read Luke 15 this morning, and I think that chapter, along with 1 Cor. 13 should be called "The Love Chapters." In Luke 15, Jesus tells three parables: the story of the shepherd who leaves his 99 sheep to search for 1, the parable of the woman who has 10 coins and searches endlessly until she finds her 1, and the story of the prodigal son. All three show us the extent of how God loves us.
Some of my favorite songs are ones that depict this love for us. They make God's love much more real. In conclusion, I'd like to share some of the many that exist. I linked a video to the title if you want to listen to the whole song.
Yay, I'm into double digits now! This prompt should be easy. :)
Here is something inspirational: God loves you. I know, I know, it seems like a fairly elementary idea, but think about what the words mean for a minute. God-the Maker of all the universe, the Supreme Being, the only powerful God- loves (definition: to have a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person; to have a feeling of intense desire; to thrive on or need) you. Yes, you, a mere human. A person who has made mistakes and failed Him in one way or another. A sinner. Yet, despite all our mistakes and shortcomings God continues to love us!
Now, this realization can either make you feel really guilty (which I don't want you to feel), or it can cause you to love God back with the beginnings of the same love He shows you. This is actually pretty easy to do once you can appreciate the intensity that God loves you. After all, God desires your love. That is why you were created. I read Luke 15 this morning, and I think that chapter, along with 1 Cor. 13 should be called "The Love Chapters." In Luke 15, Jesus tells three parables: the story of the shepherd who leaves his 99 sheep to search for 1, the parable of the woman who has 10 coins and searches endlessly until she finds her 1, and the story of the prodigal son. All three show us the extent of how God loves us.
- He is devoted to us, using circumstances in life in one way or another to draw us to Him.
- He loves with a love so strong that He is willing to do anything to get our attention. He is desperate for our love.
- His love is patient. No matter how long it takes, no matter how much we resist, He will continue to chase after us.
- Through His love, He gives us grace and mercy beyond comprehension. We don't deserve His love, but He gives it freely, practically begging us to accept it.
- God's love is like a father's love. It cares, provides, and protects.
- His love has no boundaries.
Some of my favorite songs are ones that depict this love for us. They make God's love much more real. In conclusion, I'd like to share some of the many that exist. I linked a video to the title if you want to listen to the whole song.
Always Enough by Casting Crowns
Your love is peace to the broken
Faith for the widow, hope for the orphan, strength for the weak
Your love is the anthem of nations, rings out through the ages
And You're always enough for me
So Far to Find You by Casting Crowns
You were broken, abandoned
And crying all alone
We were waiting and praying
And longing to bring you home
And then we saw your face
In a moment you were wrapped up in our hearts
We took a step of faith
And now here we are
Will you let me hold you in my arms tonight
I have come so far to find you
So far to find you
Will you take my love and give up the fight
I have come so far to find you
So far to find you
By Your Side by Tenth Avenue North
Why are you looking for love?
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough?
To where will you go child?
Tell me where will you run, to where will you run?
'Cause I'll be by your side wherever you fall
In the dead of night whenever you call
And please don't fight these hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you
Beloved by Tenth Avenue North
You're My beloved
Lover I'm yours
Death shall not part us
It's you I died for
For better or worse
Forever we'll be
My Love it unites us
And it binds you to Me
It's a mystery
Never Gone by Colton Dixon
I'm still standing here
No I didn't disappear
Now the lights are on
See I was never gone
I let go of your hand
To help you understand
With you all along
Yeah, I was never gone
Not Alone by RED
I am with you
I will carry you through it all
I won't leave you I will catch you
When you feel like letting go
Cause you're not, you're not alone
Faith for the widow, hope for the orphan, strength for the weak
Your love is the anthem of nations, rings out through the ages
And You're always enough for me
So Far to Find You by Casting Crowns
You were broken, abandoned
And crying all alone
We were waiting and praying
And longing to bring you home
And then we saw your face
In a moment you were wrapped up in our hearts
We took a step of faith
And now here we are
Will you let me hold you in my arms tonight
I have come so far to find you
So far to find you
Will you take my love and give up the fight
I have come so far to find you
So far to find you
By Your Side by Tenth Avenue North
Why are you looking for love?
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough?
To where will you go child?
Tell me where will you run, to where will you run?
'Cause I'll be by your side wherever you fall
In the dead of night whenever you call
And please don't fight these hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you
Beloved by Tenth Avenue North
You're My beloved
Lover I'm yours
Death shall not part us
It's you I died for
For better or worse
Forever we'll be
My Love it unites us
And it binds you to Me
It's a mystery
Never Gone by Colton Dixon
I'm still standing here
No I didn't disappear
Now the lights are on
See I was never gone
I let go of your hand
To help you understand
With you all along
Yeah, I was never gone
Not Alone by RED
I am with you
I will carry you through it all
I won't leave you I will catch you
When you feel like letting go
Cause you're not, you're not alone
"And remember, God made you special, and He loves you very much! Bye!"
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Day 9: Regret
The Prompt: Write a story that revolves around, "Lift up your eyes and look at the fields, for they are already white for harvest!"
This one is a toughie! I expect it to be shorter.
Sandy reset her snooze alarm for the third time that morning. "Just five more minutes." She snuggled deep under her fuzzy covers and started slipping into dreamland when she was sucked right out of it.
"Sandy!" her mother exclaimed after she opened the door to her fourteen-year-old daughter's room. "Get out of bed! Your father needs you to start working in fifteen minutes. You know it's harvest season."
Sandy sprang up when her mother yelled and moaned after the lecture. "Alright, alright." She flung the covers off the bed. "I'm just so tired!"
"You wouldn't be if you didn't stay up so late reading." Her mother pointed to a cheap romance book partially hidden under the bed.
The teenager blushed and shoved it fully under. "Excuse me. I need to get dressed."
"Of course, dear." The door shut behind her.
"It was worth staying up to finish my book," Sandy thought to herself as she opened her work clothes drawer. She saw a ripped out paper sitting on top of her jeans. She then tenderly picked it up and lay down on her bed to examine it more closely. "It won't be much longer until I get you!"
The paper had been ripped out of a magazine. It was an advertisement for a stereo. Sandy had wanted one for so long. Her old one had broken four months, but her parents could not afford to buy her a new one. Sandy had stacks of CDs in her closet, just yearning to be listened to again. It was torture going without music for so long. Her father had promised her that if they had enough crops that year, which seemed likely, he would be able to buy it for her. The only condition was that she had to work hard enough to earn it. The deadline to harvest the crops and take them to market was just two weeks away. Sandy had been working hard for the past few weeks and now the end was in sight.
Feeling energized in motivation, Sandy stood up, put the picture away, and got ready to start work outside. She grabbed an apple from the kitchen on her way out and met up with her father in the machine shed.
He looked at his watch. "You're right on time. I was beginning to wonder if you would make it."
"I'm here," she beamed, taking a third chop out of her apple.
"I'm glad you are because I have something important to tell you." Sandy chewed slowly as she listened. "I have to go out of town for a week. There's no way I can help it, I'm sorry. That means that I am going to need you to help me harvest the crops while I am gone."
Sandy's eyes widened. There was no way she could do all that work by herself! As it was, the work she did for one person exhausted her.
"Now I don't expect you to work twice as hard. I have it all figured out. If you continue clearing the amount of land you've been doing every day and if I work for a couple extra hours each day when I get back, we should be able to harvest everything just in time. Can you do that for me?"
Sandy swallowed, both her apple and the weight of responsibility she felt. "I can do it, Daddy."
He smiled at her. "I knew I could count on you. I leave tonight." He kissed her forehead. "Thank you, Daisy," he said, calling her by her pet name she got from making daisy chains when she was six.
The next morning, Sandy woke up earlier than she was supposed to, anxious to get started on her work early. She cleared even more than she expected to, and she became quite pleased with herself. The next day, she woke up early again and did even better than the day before. "At this rate, we can get the harvest done early!"
The third day, Sandy thought that she was entitled to sleep in a little bit (her body was so sore), so she set her alarm for her normal time. She hit the snooze button one too many times, however, and ended waking up a half hour late. Sandy rushed to get out to the field and took some shortcuts in her tasks to make up for lost time. Her shortcuts only made matters worse, and she had to redo everything she had done. The whole day was practically wasted.
The fourth day, Sandy set her alarm a half hour earlier, but she still managed to wake up five minutes later than her normal time. Then her friends came over, and Sandy spent over three hours with them instead of the fifteen she had originally intended. The remaining days her father was gone were wasted in similar fashion.
When her father arrived home Sunday night, he was disappointed to see that Sandy did not do her work like she should have done, but he did not say a word. Sandy did not bother trying to explain or excuse away her neglect either. She just woke up early each day and hoped she could make up for lost time.
Sandy and her father finished the harvest one day later than expected. The prices in the market had dropped significantly, so they brought home less money than they hoped. It was enough money for them to live on with a little extra to save for emergencies, but there certainly was not enough money for a new stereo. Sandy knew she didn't deserve it anyways. If she had simply harvested when the time was right instead of procrastinating, she wouldn't be living with her regret now.
This one is a toughie! I expect it to be shorter.
Sandy reset her snooze alarm for the third time that morning. "Just five more minutes." She snuggled deep under her fuzzy covers and started slipping into dreamland when she was sucked right out of it.
"Sandy!" her mother exclaimed after she opened the door to her fourteen-year-old daughter's room. "Get out of bed! Your father needs you to start working in fifteen minutes. You know it's harvest season."
Sandy sprang up when her mother yelled and moaned after the lecture. "Alright, alright." She flung the covers off the bed. "I'm just so tired!"
"You wouldn't be if you didn't stay up so late reading." Her mother pointed to a cheap romance book partially hidden under the bed.
The teenager blushed and shoved it fully under. "Excuse me. I need to get dressed."
"Of course, dear." The door shut behind her.
"It was worth staying up to finish my book," Sandy thought to herself as she opened her work clothes drawer. She saw a ripped out paper sitting on top of her jeans. She then tenderly picked it up and lay down on her bed to examine it more closely. "It won't be much longer until I get you!"
The paper had been ripped out of a magazine. It was an advertisement for a stereo. Sandy had wanted one for so long. Her old one had broken four months, but her parents could not afford to buy her a new one. Sandy had stacks of CDs in her closet, just yearning to be listened to again. It was torture going without music for so long. Her father had promised her that if they had enough crops that year, which seemed likely, he would be able to buy it for her. The only condition was that she had to work hard enough to earn it. The deadline to harvest the crops and take them to market was just two weeks away. Sandy had been working hard for the past few weeks and now the end was in sight.
Feeling energized in motivation, Sandy stood up, put the picture away, and got ready to start work outside. She grabbed an apple from the kitchen on her way out and met up with her father in the machine shed.
He looked at his watch. "You're right on time. I was beginning to wonder if you would make it."
"I'm here," she beamed, taking a third chop out of her apple.
"I'm glad you are because I have something important to tell you." Sandy chewed slowly as she listened. "I have to go out of town for a week. There's no way I can help it, I'm sorry. That means that I am going to need you to help me harvest the crops while I am gone."
Sandy's eyes widened. There was no way she could do all that work by herself! As it was, the work she did for one person exhausted her.
"Now I don't expect you to work twice as hard. I have it all figured out. If you continue clearing the amount of land you've been doing every day and if I work for a couple extra hours each day when I get back, we should be able to harvest everything just in time. Can you do that for me?"
Sandy swallowed, both her apple and the weight of responsibility she felt. "I can do it, Daddy."
He smiled at her. "I knew I could count on you. I leave tonight." He kissed her forehead. "Thank you, Daisy," he said, calling her by her pet name she got from making daisy chains when she was six.
The next morning, Sandy woke up earlier than she was supposed to, anxious to get started on her work early. She cleared even more than she expected to, and she became quite pleased with herself. The next day, she woke up early again and did even better than the day before. "At this rate, we can get the harvest done early!"
The third day, Sandy thought that she was entitled to sleep in a little bit (her body was so sore), so she set her alarm for her normal time. She hit the snooze button one too many times, however, and ended waking up a half hour late. Sandy rushed to get out to the field and took some shortcuts in her tasks to make up for lost time. Her shortcuts only made matters worse, and she had to redo everything she had done. The whole day was practically wasted.
The fourth day, Sandy set her alarm a half hour earlier, but she still managed to wake up five minutes later than her normal time. Then her friends came over, and Sandy spent over three hours with them instead of the fifteen she had originally intended. The remaining days her father was gone were wasted in similar fashion.
When her father arrived home Sunday night, he was disappointed to see that Sandy did not do her work like she should have done, but he did not say a word. Sandy did not bother trying to explain or excuse away her neglect either. She just woke up early each day and hoped she could make up for lost time.
Sandy and her father finished the harvest one day later than expected. The prices in the market had dropped significantly, so they brought home less money than they hoped. It was enough money for them to live on with a little extra to save for emergencies, but there certainly was not enough money for a new stereo. Sandy knew she didn't deserve it anyways. If she had simply harvested when the time was right instead of procrastinating, she wouldn't be living with her regret now.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Day 8: Light in the Tower
The Prompt: Take the first line of a psalm and write a story revolving around it.
Psalm 91: 1 "He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." NKJV
I have no idea where I was going with this. I just wrote the first thing that popped into my head. I guess "secret place" made me think of a strong, tall tower. Credit for any lines or characters goes to Disney's Tangled. Forgive any historical inaccuracies.
Rapunzel sat in her tower and lamented that she had no where to go today, or any day for that matter. She knew every crack in her cobblestone floor, every line on the wall. She had memorized the murals she had painted on the walls. She could walk around her whole tower blind-folded (which she had, in fact, done several times already).
"When will my life begin?" she sighed. Rapunzel continued sitting on the balcony of her tower, surveying the landscape in front of her. It hadn't changed in the almost eighteen years she had spent in it. She wished that something would happen, anything to break the pattern her life had held for the last three years.
"Oh well," she said as she stood up. "There's no use wishing for something that can't be changed." Rapunzel smiled when she saw Pascal. "Up from your nap now, I see. Did you enjoy it?"
Pascal yawned and grinned.
"Good! You're just in time to help with some baking. I want to make a treat for when Mother comes back."
Soon after Rapunzel had finished her batch of cookies in the brick oven, she heard a familiar call. "Rapunzel!!! Let down your hair so I can climb the golden stair!"
"Coming, Mother!" Rapunzel gathered up her miles of hair and loop it through the hook that helped tote her mother up then gave her glistening golden hair a shove. It tumbled down and tickled the grass near Mother Gothel's feet. The evil woman grabbed the hair and secured herself for the ride up.
"You're so strong, my dear," Mother Gothel mentioned absently as she placed her bags by her stolen daughter's feet and began loosening the straps to her cape.
"Thank you." Rapunzel was used to such meaningless compliments. Sometimes she never knew whether they were attempts at being sincere or remarks of sarcasm. "Did you have a nice trip?"
"As good as any trip in the village is," Mother Gothel said with little enthusiasm. She was brushing out her frizzled hair. It was beginning to feel brittle and wiry again. Another dose of instant youth would soon be required.
"Mother," Rapunzel asked gently as she began unloading the bags her mother brought. "When do you think I can get a chance to go with you?" Seeing her mother's expression change instantly to anger, she quickly added, "I could wear a disguise and travel at night and never speak a word to anyone."
"Rapunzel," she said with a laugh, "you wouldn't be able to disguise your hair. Now you know the answer to that question. The world is a dangerous place. You belong here where I can always find you."
Rapunzel was close to arguing but she bit her tongue. She was tired of hearing the same answer day after day. Her mother never seemed to understand, but she knew there was no use arguing with her. She remembered the last time she got into an argument with her mother. Rapunzel had never seen her so angry, and some of her paintings had been ruined. She was too afraid of what would happen this time. Arguing was pointless.
"Oh, Mother, did you get this for me?" Rapunzel eagerly asked as she pulled out a thin pamphlet.
Mother Gothel looked at the paper that a deranged beggar had thrust upon her saying that her soul needed saving. She forgot she had not discarded it right away. "Why of course, dear!" she said with a fake smile. "I remembered how much you loved to read."
"Thank you!" Rapunzel squealed as she began flipping through it.
"Not so loud, dear. You're not a pig." The hag rubbed her temples. "I'm going to lie down. I have an awful headache. Wake me up in a couple hours!" she called behind her shoulder.
"Yes, Mother," Rapunzel obediently answered. "Come on, Pascal," she said to the chameleon who was coming out from his hiding spot in a flower on the wall. "Let's go read my new book."
Rapunzel snuggled into a wooden chair with a couple pillows and began reading. It was like nothing she had ever read before. The pamphlet talked about honoring your parents, loving your neighbor, and forgiveness. It mostly talked about this Heavenly Father that had a love greater than anything anyone ever knew. Rapunzel had always wanted a father. She found the words comforting and hopeful. They promised that good things came to those who obeyed and had the heart of a servant.
After reading the pamphlet, Rapunzel smiled contentedly. She resolved to follow these words. She would forgive her mother for treating her unfairly and love her even more. She would wait patiently for her blessing to come. Her life wasn't so bad anyways. She had food, a friend, a nice cozy house with all the activities she could ever want, and a mother that loved her. She would be happy with what she had. Rapunzel put the pamphlet safely on her shelf with her other books.
Over the weeks that followed, Rapunzel found herself reading the little book often. Whenever she felt sad, upset, or even bored, she would curl deep under her covers and read it. Even when she had the words almost completely memorized, she still took the pamphlet out and read it. After reading, she always felt better. Her heart was lighter. She could almost feel that the Heavenly Father was in the room with her. She loved that feeling.
A few days before her birthday, Rapunzel had another minor fight with her mother about seeing the lights in the village on her birthday. Rapunzel lost, as usual, and her mother had left in a huff. Rapunzel snatched her book off the shelf after she had gone and read the words again. She fought hard to keep the tears from coming. She wished her mother loved her like that.
After the sadness dissipated and hope returned, Rapunzel decided to look out the window again. She stared at the green hills and forests and watched a little bird flitting around in a bush nearby. She still longed to be out there, but she was at peace waiting. She wasn't sure how much longer she could wait, but she would. Just as Rapunzel rose to leave, something moving in the distance caught her eye. Curious, she watched it get closer. Whatever it is, it was running fast. Rapunzel strained her eyes to see what it could be. It was blue and brown. It was short, no tall. It was....a man!
Psalm 91: 1 "He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty." NKJV
I have no idea where I was going with this. I just wrote the first thing that popped into my head. I guess "secret place" made me think of a strong, tall tower. Credit for any lines or characters goes to Disney's Tangled. Forgive any historical inaccuracies.
Rapunzel sat in her tower and lamented that she had no where to go today, or any day for that matter. She knew every crack in her cobblestone floor, every line on the wall. She had memorized the murals she had painted on the walls. She could walk around her whole tower blind-folded (which she had, in fact, done several times already).
"When will my life begin?" she sighed. Rapunzel continued sitting on the balcony of her tower, surveying the landscape in front of her. It hadn't changed in the almost eighteen years she had spent in it. She wished that something would happen, anything to break the pattern her life had held for the last three years.
"Oh well," she said as she stood up. "There's no use wishing for something that can't be changed." Rapunzel smiled when she saw Pascal. "Up from your nap now, I see. Did you enjoy it?"
Pascal yawned and grinned.
"Good! You're just in time to help with some baking. I want to make a treat for when Mother comes back."
Soon after Rapunzel had finished her batch of cookies in the brick oven, she heard a familiar call. "Rapunzel!!! Let down your hair so I can climb the golden stair!"
"Coming, Mother!" Rapunzel gathered up her miles of hair and loop it through the hook that helped tote her mother up then gave her glistening golden hair a shove. It tumbled down and tickled the grass near Mother Gothel's feet. The evil woman grabbed the hair and secured herself for the ride up.
"You're so strong, my dear," Mother Gothel mentioned absently as she placed her bags by her stolen daughter's feet and began loosening the straps to her cape.
"Thank you." Rapunzel was used to such meaningless compliments. Sometimes she never knew whether they were attempts at being sincere or remarks of sarcasm. "Did you have a nice trip?"
"As good as any trip in the village is," Mother Gothel said with little enthusiasm. She was brushing out her frizzled hair. It was beginning to feel brittle and wiry again. Another dose of instant youth would soon be required.
"Mother," Rapunzel asked gently as she began unloading the bags her mother brought. "When do you think I can get a chance to go with you?" Seeing her mother's expression change instantly to anger, she quickly added, "I could wear a disguise and travel at night and never speak a word to anyone."
"Rapunzel," she said with a laugh, "you wouldn't be able to disguise your hair. Now you know the answer to that question. The world is a dangerous place. You belong here where I can always find you."
Rapunzel was close to arguing but she bit her tongue. She was tired of hearing the same answer day after day. Her mother never seemed to understand, but she knew there was no use arguing with her. She remembered the last time she got into an argument with her mother. Rapunzel had never seen her so angry, and some of her paintings had been ruined. She was too afraid of what would happen this time. Arguing was pointless.
"Oh, Mother, did you get this for me?" Rapunzel eagerly asked as she pulled out a thin pamphlet.
Mother Gothel looked at the paper that a deranged beggar had thrust upon her saying that her soul needed saving. She forgot she had not discarded it right away. "Why of course, dear!" she said with a fake smile. "I remembered how much you loved to read."
"Thank you!" Rapunzel squealed as she began flipping through it.
"Not so loud, dear. You're not a pig." The hag rubbed her temples. "I'm going to lie down. I have an awful headache. Wake me up in a couple hours!" she called behind her shoulder.
"Yes, Mother," Rapunzel obediently answered. "Come on, Pascal," she said to the chameleon who was coming out from his hiding spot in a flower on the wall. "Let's go read my new book."
Rapunzel snuggled into a wooden chair with a couple pillows and began reading. It was like nothing she had ever read before. The pamphlet talked about honoring your parents, loving your neighbor, and forgiveness. It mostly talked about this Heavenly Father that had a love greater than anything anyone ever knew. Rapunzel had always wanted a father. She found the words comforting and hopeful. They promised that good things came to those who obeyed and had the heart of a servant.
After reading the pamphlet, Rapunzel smiled contentedly. She resolved to follow these words. She would forgive her mother for treating her unfairly and love her even more. She would wait patiently for her blessing to come. Her life wasn't so bad anyways. She had food, a friend, a nice cozy house with all the activities she could ever want, and a mother that loved her. She would be happy with what she had. Rapunzel put the pamphlet safely on her shelf with her other books.
Over the weeks that followed, Rapunzel found herself reading the little book often. Whenever she felt sad, upset, or even bored, she would curl deep under her covers and read it. Even when she had the words almost completely memorized, she still took the pamphlet out and read it. After reading, she always felt better. Her heart was lighter. She could almost feel that the Heavenly Father was in the room with her. She loved that feeling.
A few days before her birthday, Rapunzel had another minor fight with her mother about seeing the lights in the village on her birthday. Rapunzel lost, as usual, and her mother had left in a huff. Rapunzel snatched her book off the shelf after she had gone and read the words again. She fought hard to keep the tears from coming. She wished her mother loved her like that.
After the sadness dissipated and hope returned, Rapunzel decided to look out the window again. She stared at the green hills and forests and watched a little bird flitting around in a bush nearby. She still longed to be out there, but she was at peace waiting. She wasn't sure how much longer she could wait, but she would. Just as Rapunzel rose to leave, something moving in the distance caught her eye. Curious, she watched it get closer. Whatever it is, it was running fast. Rapunzel strained her eyes to see what it could be. It was blue and brown. It was short, no tall. It was....a man!
Monday, January 7, 2013
Day 7: A Dream
The Prompt: Write a short story using these words: angel, vineyard, shield, and shepherd.
I've been doing this for one week now. :) I have already learned that this challenge is harder than I thought because I have to sit and write, even when I don't feel like it. I'm not spending 15 minutes on it either. It's more like double that. I guess I have more to say than I thought. I am also trying to get used to publishing something without taking that much time to edit, which has been a weakness of mine. Anyways, here is the story I whipped up for today.
I've been doing this for one week now. :) I have already learned that this challenge is harder than I thought because I have to sit and write, even when I don't feel like it. I'm not spending 15 minutes on it either. It's more like double that. I guess I have more to say than I thought. I am also trying to get used to publishing something without taking that much time to edit, which has been a weakness of mine. Anyways, here is the story I whipped up for today.
Once there lived a poor shepherd who
had a wife and three children, two of which were grown and had left the house
already. He had always wanted to own a
vineyard, but he never had enough money to purchase the land needed for it. Instead he was forced to work for a rich man
who owned several acres of land and possessed many livestock and crops,
including a vineyard. The poor man
wanted to work at the vineyard, but his master did not need another person
there. He needed a shepherd. The shepherd was a hard worker. He woke before the sun started rising to
start his job of watching the sheep. It
certainly was not a very exciting job.
He’d lead the sheep out of their pens and prod them up over the hill
where they grazed for hours. They were
good sheep, all staying in one place.
The shepherd used to keep an alert lookout on them, watching for any
strays or predators that would harm the precious things that had been entrusted
in his care. Eventually, he stopped acting
so alert because nothing ever happened.
His tall posture slackened as he would lean on his staff at the top of
the hill and listlessly gaze at his master’s vineyard in the distance. If his master would allow him to work there,
he would be able to be involved with the vineyard throughout the grapes’
growth. There would always be something
to do. The sheep did not do anything.
However one day, the shepherd had his back
turned on his flock and, as he gazed down at his broken dream, marauders rode
up swiftly and silently and began to herd the sheep away. If the shepherd would have faced the flock,
he would have been able to see the danger ahead of time and stop it. By the time he heard the yells from the men,
the noises from the animals they rode, and the bleating of his sheep, it was
too late for him to do anything but tire himself out from running after them. Not one sheep remained. When his master heard this, he fired him
promptly.
Since the shepherd lived in a small house
provided by his master, he and his family were out of a home as well. The shepherd could not get any work because
the whole town had heard how he irresponsibly let the sheep slip from under his
nose. His wife and daughter were forced
to get work while he sat in their makeshift tent and lamented. The man’s trouble did not stop there. His wife was injured at work one day, and he
did not have enough money to pay for a doctor to help them. They barely had enough money as it was to buy
food, but with his wife now crippled, they were bringing in even less money. His daughter was ridiculed by the other girls
for her father’s incompetence, and she complained to him that she would die an
old maid because he did not have the money to pay for her dowry to get
married.
Overwhelmed with guilt, regret, and the
weight of all the tragedies him and his family had to endure because of his
mistake, the poor former shepherd stole away one night several yards away from
his tent and cried out to God.
“What did I do to deserve such punishment,
O God?!! You have abandoned me! My family- even the whole town hates me! Why are all these things happening?! I can’t bear them anymore!”
Suddenly, in that still, quiet night, an
angel appeared to the man. The former
shepherd bowed down low, terrified that the dirt below him would be the last
sight he’d see.
The angel asked, in a commanding yet
gentle voice, “Shepherd, why do you stand here crying?”
The man decided to speak truthfully. “I am no shepherd. I have lost everything, and everyone hates
me. God hates me, and I deserve it
all. I failed.”
“Why did you fail?” the angel patiently
asked.
“I failed because I was not doing my job,”
he softly admitted.
“You failed because you were looking
behind you instead of what lay ahead.
You yearned for something you could not have while you did not
appreciate what was right in front of you.
The Lord was willingly to bless you.
You just had to faithfully do your job.
Now, you have lost it.”
Tears began streaming down the man’s face.
The angel’s demeanor softened. “Now, now.
I did not come here to chastise you but to help you. Take heart.
The Lord does not hate you. You
have not lost everything. You still have
your wife and your three children.”
“But they are all unhappy with me.”
“Perhaps they are disappointed, but they
have not left you. They are still willing
to stay faithful to you, just like God is always faithful to you. He is your shield from all the troubles that
come your way. Have faith in the ones
who love you.”
The man sniffed away more sobs. “But what am I to do? I tried to get a job; no one will hire me.”
“Obey the Lord your God. Have faith in him, and He will save you.” With those words, the angel disappeared.
The man looked around but could not see
him. He sat alone for another moment,
the words the angel said still lingering in the air.
The next morning, the man woke up, kissed
his wife and daughter, thanked them for staying with him (even after he put
them through so much), and walked into town to look for work. He hunted every day, from sun up to sun down,
for two weeks. He never lost heart through
it all. He held onto the hope that
something would eventually turn up.
God heard his prayer, and on the first day
of the third week, a moderately wealthy yet humble man took pity on him and
hired him to clean the stalls for his animals.
The former shepherd rejoiced at this small, demeaning job. He never complained and always did his work
faithfully. After working in the stalls
for a couple months, his master gave him greater responsibility over the
animals and eventually asked him to work out in his small field. The man was getting paid more than his job as
a shepherd, and he was just as happy, if not happier. He eventually became one of the best workers
on the property. Two years later, the
faithful servant’s master died. He had
no living relatives, so he left his entire property to his best worker. The faithful servant was overwhelmed with the
Lord’s blessings, and the following spring, he planted a vineyard.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Day 6: My Biblical Hero
The Prompt: You get to meet your hero from the Bible. What happens?
As I mentioned in the past, David is one of my favorite Bible characters. He was one of the few men the Bible refers to as having the heart of God. Plus he wrote the Psalms, one of my favorite books from the Bible. It would be amazing if I could even see what he looked like. Since he is likened to Jesus, I wonder if they shared some physical similarities. I suppose one of the first things I'd want to do is listen to him play one of his psalms or asked what inspired him to write a few of my favorites. Maybe I could even watch him compose one. Once you think about it, it's like meeting a modern Christian music singer.
David was not just a singer; he was a beloved king. Who doesn't want to meet a king? :) I'd want him to give me a tour around his palace, meet some of his advisers and family, and get a chance to see him working at some of his responsibilities as king. Getting a tour of the city would be fun too, especially if it was in a royal procession.
I'd also enjoy the opportunity to interview David. I'd like to hear some of the Biblical accounts from his point of view. How did he feel when Samuel anointed him as king while Saul still ruled? What was going through his head when he summed up the courage to defeat Goliath? I'd probably ask some other questions about when he was running from Saul, about his reign as king, and about his relationships with sons.
I'd certainly have an eventful day with David!
As I mentioned in the past, David is one of my favorite Bible characters. He was one of the few men the Bible refers to as having the heart of God. Plus he wrote the Psalms, one of my favorite books from the Bible. It would be amazing if I could even see what he looked like. Since he is likened to Jesus, I wonder if they shared some physical similarities. I suppose one of the first things I'd want to do is listen to him play one of his psalms or asked what inspired him to write a few of my favorites. Maybe I could even watch him compose one. Once you think about it, it's like meeting a modern Christian music singer.
David was not just a singer; he was a beloved king. Who doesn't want to meet a king? :) I'd want him to give me a tour around his palace, meet some of his advisers and family, and get a chance to see him working at some of his responsibilities as king. Getting a tour of the city would be fun too, especially if it was in a royal procession.
I'd also enjoy the opportunity to interview David. I'd like to hear some of the Biblical accounts from his point of view. How did he feel when Samuel anointed him as king while Saul still ruled? What was going through his head when he summed up the courage to defeat Goliath? I'd probably ask some other questions about when he was running from Saul, about his reign as king, and about his relationships with sons.
I'd certainly have an eventful day with David!
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Day 5: In Judas' Shoes
The Prompt: It's always good to get into the bad guy's shoes. So write a story about an evil character in the Bible; see his side of the story. Why did he do this evil deed?
I was going to write about one of the evil kings of Israel and Judah until it occurred to me that it might be more interesting (and easier) to write about Judas Iscariot, the ultimate "bad guy" instead. What caused a follower of Jesus, one of the chosen twelve, to betray the Son of God?
Judas came from a poor home, with little to no family. He was weary of life and pain and hungry for love. I'm sure after hearing Jesus speak for the first time, Judas felt entranced by this remarkable man. Jesus' words were comforting, and Judas felt compelled to follow Him. Jesus offered Judas unconditional love and acceptance. Since the disciples did not suspect who could betray Jesus, he was probably faithful follower, on the outside.
At first, Judas was on fire for Jesus and wanted to serve Him anyway he could, but he was the seed that fell on the rocks. Some things that Jesus said made him feel uncomfortable, such as your riches come from heaven and not earth or that the people who are last in life will be first. Judas pushed the thoughts out of his mind, but they still lingered like a bad taste in his mouth.
As Judas continued to do this, he became bitter and closed his heart to Jesus' teachings. He felt he was entitled to some good things in life after the miserable life he had as a child. He was tired of living the life of a servant, walking for miles with Jesus in the dirt and heat with barely any possessions. He was lucky if he got three meals a day with Jesus asking them to share what they had or rely on the generosity of others. Judas didn't understand the true meaning of following God.
When Judas took the twenty pieces of silver from the Pharisees, he felt it was time to have some money of his own for once. He was willing to betray Jesus because he was angry with Him for all the sacrificing he had endured for His name's sake. Maybe he thought deep down that Jesus could save Himself from the danger. The Pharisees couldn't really hurt Jesus. The biggest force that motivated Judas to accept the bribe could have been that he was too afraid to truly risk all for Jesus and listen to what God was whispering to his heart.
I was going to write about one of the evil kings of Israel and Judah until it occurred to me that it might be more interesting (and easier) to write about Judas Iscariot, the ultimate "bad guy" instead. What caused a follower of Jesus, one of the chosen twelve, to betray the Son of God?
Judas came from a poor home, with little to no family. He was weary of life and pain and hungry for love. I'm sure after hearing Jesus speak for the first time, Judas felt entranced by this remarkable man. Jesus' words were comforting, and Judas felt compelled to follow Him. Jesus offered Judas unconditional love and acceptance. Since the disciples did not suspect who could betray Jesus, he was probably faithful follower, on the outside.
At first, Judas was on fire for Jesus and wanted to serve Him anyway he could, but he was the seed that fell on the rocks. Some things that Jesus said made him feel uncomfortable, such as your riches come from heaven and not earth or that the people who are last in life will be first. Judas pushed the thoughts out of his mind, but they still lingered like a bad taste in his mouth.
As Judas continued to do this, he became bitter and closed his heart to Jesus' teachings. He felt he was entitled to some good things in life after the miserable life he had as a child. He was tired of living the life of a servant, walking for miles with Jesus in the dirt and heat with barely any possessions. He was lucky if he got three meals a day with Jesus asking them to share what they had or rely on the generosity of others. Judas didn't understand the true meaning of following God.
When Judas took the twenty pieces of silver from the Pharisees, he felt it was time to have some money of his own for once. He was willing to betray Jesus because he was angry with Him for all the sacrificing he had endured for His name's sake. Maybe he thought deep down that Jesus could save Himself from the danger. The Pharisees couldn't really hurt Jesus. The biggest force that motivated Judas to accept the bribe could have been that he was too afraid to truly risk all for Jesus and listen to what God was whispering to his heart.
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