The Prompt: Think of something people do in church that you think
is wrong; now defend that thing as if you were that person.
Hi, my name is Annie, and I am addicted to my iPhone. At first, I didn't think there was anything wrong with it-actually I still don't think there is, but my parents have encouraged me to come here and see the "error of my ways." *nervous laugh* Anyways....I love my iPhone, I mean I really love it. I have four different cases. I like changing them out, like they're outfits. I even named my phone too, Emma. *tone grows more serious for a split second* My parents actually don't like me calling her that anymore. So, not everyone understands my love for my phone, as you can see. My love for her has gotten me in trouble.
Take church, for instance. I used to forget to bring my Bible all the time. Then I realized that there is a handy Bible app. I used it to keep track of the verses, look up definitions while the pastor was talking, and type notes from the sermon. It was a great device!
Then, the temptation was becoming too great to do other things with it. I guess my phone usage was "distracting other people from learning." I don't know how that's possible. They should be looking at the pastor, not me. Then I started getting text messages while my phone was on. I had it on vibrate, so it's not like anybody heard me. God gave me ears and a complex brain. In this day and age, everybody multi-tasks. Besides, I only answer the important text messages. I still know what the pastor is talking about. I don't have to watch him every single minute.
Then I started getting bored while in the sermons. Don't get me wrong. My pastor is great. I guess it's just sitting down for so long, and I don't get much sleep anymore. I need something to stimulate my mind, so I started playing the pinball game. I had fun while learning. Some of the pastor's words even went in time with the bouncing of the ball. Since I'm on my phone anyways, it doesn't hurt looking at my Facebook really fast. I'm just looking at who liked my status and just a few tiny comments. It's not like it takes that long to do. God knows I'm paying attention.
I guess some people don't see it the same as I do, not in my church, school, or at home. *sigh* I guess that's why I'm here. Okay, that's all I have to say for today.
I could have gone on with this for a while. Haha!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Day 58: Blake
I've been busy drafting my story to hand in tomorrow. All I have is another snippet from it for tonight. I won't pester you about it anymore. :)
"Miranda, you know, as your best
friend, I’d do anything for you, right?”
She had finished painting her
nails now and had fingers spread out on her lap to let them dry. “Of course, and that’s why I think you’re so
great.”
“And being a friend means telling
your friend something, even if it hurts.”
I bit my lip. She looked serious
now, almost like I was going to tell her that her cat died. “I don’t think you should see Blake anymore.”
Her eyes grew larger than golf
balls. Her voice was quiet. “Why not?”
Why not. What reasons couldn’t I give? I never liked that guy from the first minute
he walked up to us while we were eating lunch at our favorite restaurant near
campus. I always ordered the same
sandwich, turkey swiss on rye, while Miranda switched up her order every
time. Miranda had dropped something out
of her purse, a lip gloss I think, and it rolled across the floor, landing at
his feet. He picked it and handed it to
her.
“Is this yours?” he had asked, as
if he didn’t already see it roll away from her direction. There was something in his voice. It was soft and subtle, like how a fox would
talk to Jemima Puddle-duck in those Beatrix Potter stories. His hair was styled to accentuate his hair
over his eyebrows. He reeked of cologne
and teeth so perfect I knew they must have been veneers. He did have good taste in clothes though, a
Ralph Lauren polo and jeans. I wasn’t
about to be fooled by his tricks, but Miranda was smitten. He somehow managed to weasel his way into our
lunch. He asked her out the following
night.
“You only met him for like a half
hour, Miranda. How are you certain he
won’t turn out to be some psycho serial killer?”
“Don’t be crazy, Sammy! He’s really nice. It’s not like I’m going to his house or
anything. It’s just dinner.”
Well, “just dinner” turned out to
be one and a half years. They used to
meet only once or twice a week. I didn’t
mind it so much because I had homework to do.
I never liked to leave our dorm to do any fun stuff until my homework
was done. I figure if I’m paying so much
for tuition, I might as well do what I can to get good grades and make the
education pay off. I have little time as
it balancing school and my job at Macy’s.
It started getting more serious
about six months ago. It was so
frustrating to hear her say things like, “I’m sorry I can’t go to the movies
tonight. I was going tot meet Blake.”
Blake! What kind of a name is that anyways? It was always, “Blake is so good is this” or
“Blake told me that last night.” How did
it get the point that she started talking more about his life than our lives
anyways? At night, we would stay up late
and dream about what we would do with our lives. We had it figured out since junior year of
high school. I would be a manager of a
retail store and sell the clothes that Miranda would design. It was perfect. Now, Miranda had started talking about how
Blake was a great photographer but he wanted to live near the coast so he could
take more oceanic themed photos. She
started talking about the ocean more, how pretty the weather is near there, how
nice beach houses were, how beach clothes are looking so trendy now. Beaches?
We lived in New York City. If
Blake left, Miranda would leave too.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Day 57: Sam's Imagined Scene
Today in fiction writing class, I wrote part of my story I'm working on as part of an exercise my teacher assigned, so I will be posting that. The exercise required me to have my main character imagine a scene that is actually happening simultaneously in another place.
I sat at my desk and fiddled with my pens, pencils, and paper clips I had so neatly arranged earlier that night. My books for homework lay nearby, and a voice inside told me I needed to start working on it, but I could not will myself to do anything more than twirl the paperclips round in my fingers on the desk. I stared at a picture Miranda and I had taken last month when we went to the beach party together. We looked so happy, and somehow I knew it would never be the same.
He was probably waiting outside the restaurant for her. She would stride up to him in the pumps we had picked out together at the Macy's clearance sale. She would have a big smile on her face, that joy she always had when she saw him. They'd embrace, and he'd probably give her a tender kiss before they would walk hand in hand to the door. He'd hold the door open for her. She always admired his chivalry.
Being the responsible one, he would already have made reservations. He'd casually tell that to the waitor, who would usher them to a cozy table for two, tucked in the back of the restaurant away from the rest of the diners. It might as well be hiding them away from the world. I can just hear Miranda squealing over the delicate chandeliers and fancy linen tablecloths. There are probably pictures of women in glamourous dresses decorating the walls. She'd point them out to him, telling him how she was going to create something like that someday.
I'm sure the dinner conversation would involve all the vain pleasantries and idle talk of two people in love. It makes me sick to even think about it. I grabbed my business textbook on the top of the book stack and managed to open the cover. I still could not concentrate.
By this time, they probably would have gotten their food and would be halfway through their meal. Considering the classy romantic Miranda claimed he was, he'd wait to do it until dessert. I always liked the idea, when I was little and didn't know any better, of having the ring be put in the dessert. Although it would risk ruining the ring or losing it, he'd take those risks, for romance's sake.
Miranda is probably trying to distract herself from anticipating the proposal. She hoped he'd do it at dessert. Her heart flutters when he tells the waitor they'd like dessert, two slices of chocolate cheesecake, her favorite.
He's rehearsing mentally what he'll say to her. He probably wrote the speech out beforehand and had it memorized. I wonder if he's even the least bit nervous as the waitor brings them their desserts.
Miranda tries to keep herself collected as she takes her first bite of cheesecake. The second and third bites slip slowly by, and Miranda tries to keep from getting disappointed that he hasn't pulled the ring out yet but keeps smiling at her. Her mind starts to think that maybe he is second-guessing himself. Maybe it was something she said at dinner. She stabs her fork into the cheesecake to pull away the fourth bite when she sees something glittering in the piece. She digs away at the food and gasps with delight when she sees the ring.
He'd take that as his cue to get down on one knee. People would be staring. It takes everything in Miranda to keep herself from crying. He professes his love for her.
I sat at my desk and fiddled with my pens, pencils, and paper clips I had so neatly arranged earlier that night. My books for homework lay nearby, and a voice inside told me I needed to start working on it, but I could not will myself to do anything more than twirl the paperclips round in my fingers on the desk. I stared at a picture Miranda and I had taken last month when we went to the beach party together. We looked so happy, and somehow I knew it would never be the same.
He was probably waiting outside the restaurant for her. She would stride up to him in the pumps we had picked out together at the Macy's clearance sale. She would have a big smile on her face, that joy she always had when she saw him. They'd embrace, and he'd probably give her a tender kiss before they would walk hand in hand to the door. He'd hold the door open for her. She always admired his chivalry.
Being the responsible one, he would already have made reservations. He'd casually tell that to the waitor, who would usher them to a cozy table for two, tucked in the back of the restaurant away from the rest of the diners. It might as well be hiding them away from the world. I can just hear Miranda squealing over the delicate chandeliers and fancy linen tablecloths. There are probably pictures of women in glamourous dresses decorating the walls. She'd point them out to him, telling him how she was going to create something like that someday.
I'm sure the dinner conversation would involve all the vain pleasantries and idle talk of two people in love. It makes me sick to even think about it. I grabbed my business textbook on the top of the book stack and managed to open the cover. I still could not concentrate.
By this time, they probably would have gotten their food and would be halfway through their meal. Considering the classy romantic Miranda claimed he was, he'd wait to do it until dessert. I always liked the idea, when I was little and didn't know any better, of having the ring be put in the dessert. Although it would risk ruining the ring or losing it, he'd take those risks, for romance's sake.
Miranda is probably trying to distract herself from anticipating the proposal. She hoped he'd do it at dessert. Her heart flutters when he tells the waitor they'd like dessert, two slices of chocolate cheesecake, her favorite.
He's rehearsing mentally what he'll say to her. He probably wrote the speech out beforehand and had it memorized. I wonder if he's even the least bit nervous as the waitor brings them their desserts.
Miranda tries to keep herself collected as she takes her first bite of cheesecake. The second and third bites slip slowly by, and Miranda tries to keep from getting disappointed that he hasn't pulled the ring out yet but keeps smiling at her. Her mind starts to think that maybe he is second-guessing himself. Maybe it was something she said at dinner. She stabs her fork into the cheesecake to pull away the fourth bite when she sees something glittering in the piece. She digs away at the food and gasps with delight when she sees the ring.
He'd take that as his cue to get down on one knee. People would be staring. It takes everything in Miranda to keep herself from crying. He professes his love for her.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Day 56: The Last Laugh
The Prompt: Write a story around this psalm: Kings of armies flee,
they flee and she who remains home divides the spoil. Psalm 68:12
There once was a little girl named Amanda, or Mandy for short. Mandy had a weakness for chocolate, but she was not allowed to have it very often because her parents cared about her health. One day, Mandy's cousins came over to spend the week with her. She loved playing games with them, since she was an only child, and they had great fun together. The second afternoon they were visiting, Mandy's parents announced that they wanted the children to do some chores around the house. If they were going to share in the fun, they would also have to share in the responsibilities in the house. Mandy's parents assigned Mandy and her three cousins with various chores then went to work on their own, Mandy's father mowing and weeding outside and Mandy's mother scouring the kitchen.
Mandy and her cousins started their work with a cheerful attitude, but soon the cousins became distracted. One constantly complained how his arms hurt. Another kept taking breaks by getting a drink or snack. The third simply refused to work anymore. By the first hour, Mandy was the only one still working. She was tempted to join her cousins and quit, but she kept on.
At lunchtime, Mandy's mother called them all downstairs to eat and asked how their progress went. The cousins fumbled with their excuses about why they weren't done working yet while Mandy gently explained to her mother all the work they did. She was disappointed with the cousins because she had planned to give them all a special treat for working so hard. However, she praised Mandy for sticking with her work to the end and said she could have part of her cousins share of the treat. Mandy happily sat on the couch munching on her triple chocolate brownie bites with chocolate frosting while her cousins sorrowfully finished their chores upstairs.
There once was a little girl named Amanda, or Mandy for short. Mandy had a weakness for chocolate, but she was not allowed to have it very often because her parents cared about her health. One day, Mandy's cousins came over to spend the week with her. She loved playing games with them, since she was an only child, and they had great fun together. The second afternoon they were visiting, Mandy's parents announced that they wanted the children to do some chores around the house. If they were going to share in the fun, they would also have to share in the responsibilities in the house. Mandy's parents assigned Mandy and her three cousins with various chores then went to work on their own, Mandy's father mowing and weeding outside and Mandy's mother scouring the kitchen.
Mandy and her cousins started their work with a cheerful attitude, but soon the cousins became distracted. One constantly complained how his arms hurt. Another kept taking breaks by getting a drink or snack. The third simply refused to work anymore. By the first hour, Mandy was the only one still working. She was tempted to join her cousins and quit, but she kept on.
At lunchtime, Mandy's mother called them all downstairs to eat and asked how their progress went. The cousins fumbled with their excuses about why they weren't done working yet while Mandy gently explained to her mother all the work they did. She was disappointed with the cousins because she had planned to give them all a special treat for working so hard. However, she praised Mandy for sticking with her work to the end and said she could have part of her cousins share of the treat. Mandy happily sat on the couch munching on her triple chocolate brownie bites with chocolate frosting while her cousins sorrowfully finished their chores upstairs.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Day 55: Character Sketch
I am supposed to be drafting a short story for my fiction class, but I have not come up with any good ideas thus far. I'm going to use today's post to flesh out my protagonist and plot.
It needs to be told in first person and needs to take place in one scene. I think my narrator is going to be a girl, a college student about my age. She is headstrong, driven, outgoing, and very protective of her friends. She makes friends easily but only considers a few to be true friends, and those are the ones she is loyal to. She has a part-time job working in the mall at one of her favorite stores. Fashion is her weakness, and that is why she wants to get a degree in business. Her other weakness is being selfish, almost at the cost of the cost of her friendships. She doesn't realize that she wants what her friends have. She lives her life through her friends, which is why she is so involved in their lives. She doesn't realize her flaws. Her thoughts are condescending and judgmental towards others. Her attitude has cost her to lose some friends.
I think her name will be Sam, direct and cute, like her character on the surface. She teased boys in high school and now she is not in any relationship. Perhaps boys feel intimidated by her, or she is intimidated by them. They distract her from her goals. And why does she want to be so successful? She is an only child, raised by her single mother, who got her heart broken after her husband ran away and exhausted herself from working two to three jobs to survive. Sam does not want to end up like her mother. Boys only hurt you. It all boils down to helping yourself.
Sam doesn't realize she is the protagonist of my story. She thinks the problem is with her best friend since middle school. They managed to stay together and attended the same college. Sam almost considers her a sister. They shared the same dreams. Go to college, work at the same store and build their careers, graduate, and get rich. Her friend is artistic and crafty. She'd design the clothes and Sam would sell them. Her name is either Mirelle/Mira, to be admired, or something that means attractive or lovely.
Mira fell in love last year with a guy that Sam never liked. There was something suspicious about him, something that never made her feel right about him. She feels he is no good for her friend. Now he is planning on proposing. Sam accidentally saw him in the jeweler's on her way to work. She peered in and saw him looking at engagement rings. She doesn't think Mira should marry him and decides to confront her friend about it. If Mira married him, she would throw away her life.
That will be when the story opens up, in Mira's dorm room she shares with Sam, at a lull in their afternoon. Sam will not be narrating the story, but the story will be a run-off of her thoughts. She is nervous because she does not want to hurt her friend but feels it has to be done. Perhaps subconsciously she would like to date Mira's boyfriend; he has qualities she admires. She would never do it though. Mira is aware of Sam's flaws and confronts her about them.
Their dorm room is neat but intimate. Mira has comfortable things, a cozy pillow with a handmade cover and a fuzzy blanket. Sam has a desk she is almost always at. Their beds are nearly right next to each other so they could talk into the wee hours of the morning at times. Sam always has to be responsible, always has to stay productive. Even cleaning up (putting away laundry or folding clothes) while talking.
Boy, this helped a lot! What do you think of it? Any suggestions or things I should change?
It needs to be told in first person and needs to take place in one scene. I think my narrator is going to be a girl, a college student about my age. She is headstrong, driven, outgoing, and very protective of her friends. She makes friends easily but only considers a few to be true friends, and those are the ones she is loyal to. She has a part-time job working in the mall at one of her favorite stores. Fashion is her weakness, and that is why she wants to get a degree in business. Her other weakness is being selfish, almost at the cost of the cost of her friendships. She doesn't realize that she wants what her friends have. She lives her life through her friends, which is why she is so involved in their lives. She doesn't realize her flaws. Her thoughts are condescending and judgmental towards others. Her attitude has cost her to lose some friends.
I think her name will be Sam, direct and cute, like her character on the surface. She teased boys in high school and now she is not in any relationship. Perhaps boys feel intimidated by her, or she is intimidated by them. They distract her from her goals. And why does she want to be so successful? She is an only child, raised by her single mother, who got her heart broken after her husband ran away and exhausted herself from working two to three jobs to survive. Sam does not want to end up like her mother. Boys only hurt you. It all boils down to helping yourself.
Sam doesn't realize she is the protagonist of my story. She thinks the problem is with her best friend since middle school. They managed to stay together and attended the same college. Sam almost considers her a sister. They shared the same dreams. Go to college, work at the same store and build their careers, graduate, and get rich. Her friend is artistic and crafty. She'd design the clothes and Sam would sell them. Her name is either Mirelle/Mira, to be admired, or something that means attractive or lovely.
Mira fell in love last year with a guy that Sam never liked. There was something suspicious about him, something that never made her feel right about him. She feels he is no good for her friend. Now he is planning on proposing. Sam accidentally saw him in the jeweler's on her way to work. She peered in and saw him looking at engagement rings. She doesn't think Mira should marry him and decides to confront her friend about it. If Mira married him, she would throw away her life.
That will be when the story opens up, in Mira's dorm room she shares with Sam, at a lull in their afternoon. Sam will not be narrating the story, but the story will be a run-off of her thoughts. She is nervous because she does not want to hurt her friend but feels it has to be done. Perhaps subconsciously she would like to date Mira's boyfriend; he has qualities she admires. She would never do it though. Mira is aware of Sam's flaws and confronts her about them.
Their dorm room is neat but intimate. Mira has comfortable things, a cozy pillow with a handmade cover and a fuzzy blanket. Sam has a desk she is almost always at. Their beds are nearly right next to each other so they could talk into the wee hours of the morning at times. Sam always has to be responsible, always has to stay productive. Even cleaning up (putting away laundry or folding clothes) while talking.
Boy, this helped a lot! What do you think of it? Any suggestions or things I should change?
Day 54: I'm Sorry
This post is really short. I need to make time earlier in the day to do this, so I'm not worrying about this last minute. :P I'm going to try harder at this.
A quick word of advice: Try not to procrastinate. I know it can be hard sometimes, but the things you want to put off are probably the things you need to do the most. I'm still trying to get this right. If you hear a little voice telling you to do it, you should listen to it. I have regretted it when I have ignored it. We are given the Holy Spirit for a reason.
A quick word of advice: Try not to procrastinate. I know it can be hard sometimes, but the things you want to put off are probably the things you need to do the most. I'm still trying to get this right. If you hear a little voice telling you to do it, you should listen to it. I have regretted it when I have ignored it. We are given the Holy Spirit for a reason.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Day 53
The Prompt: A Sunday school teacher, a worship leader and an usher
discuss which job is most important. Include the words cell phone, water
and cigars.
"I might just play my guitar and sing, but God uses me to do great things for him. In my job, people are connected to God in the most special way, pure adoration of Him and praises to Him. There is healing through music too. Nothing helps better than being reminded we are forgiven from our sins through some heartfelt lyrics. Some people even get saved through worship songs. What job could be better than helping poor souls come to drink the Living Water?" The worship leader smiled and puffed on his cigar, a nasty habit he had picked up recently. He was sure his argument was fool-proof.
"Yes," the Sunday school teacher agreed, "but it is we teachers who help people understand what they are singing. We teach those ideas to them. Sunday school teachers have it even better. We are preaching to the youth. By leading them to God, we are securing the future for ourselves, for them, and for their children."
The usher, who had been at his job for five years now, ignored his cell phone that had gone off. His point was too important. "You both have excellent points, but I disagree. We shouldn't be arguing about whose job is most important. All of our jobs are important. Remember what Paul says about the church being a body? Each and every member is important and can't function without each other. We're all equal in God's eyes. My job of collecting offerings might sound unimportant, but that money goes to help the church with its various outreaches for its members and for the community."
"I might just play my guitar and sing, but God uses me to do great things for him. In my job, people are connected to God in the most special way, pure adoration of Him and praises to Him. There is healing through music too. Nothing helps better than being reminded we are forgiven from our sins through some heartfelt lyrics. Some people even get saved through worship songs. What job could be better than helping poor souls come to drink the Living Water?" The worship leader smiled and puffed on his cigar, a nasty habit he had picked up recently. He was sure his argument was fool-proof.
"Yes," the Sunday school teacher agreed, "but it is we teachers who help people understand what they are singing. We teach those ideas to them. Sunday school teachers have it even better. We are preaching to the youth. By leading them to God, we are securing the future for ourselves, for them, and for their children."
The usher, who had been at his job for five years now, ignored his cell phone that had gone off. His point was too important. "You both have excellent points, but I disagree. We shouldn't be arguing about whose job is most important. All of our jobs are important. Remember what Paul says about the church being a body? Each and every member is important and can't function without each other. We're all equal in God's eyes. My job of collecting offerings might sound unimportant, but that money goes to help the church with its various outreaches for its members and for the community."
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Day 52: A Psalm
The Prompt: Rewrite a psalm from your point of view.
I chose Ps. 143, which is dubbed "An Earnest Appeal for Guidance and Deliverance." There was no particular reason for choosing it. I was flipping through the book and thought this topic would be relatable for me to write about.
Dear Lord, I cry to You right now.
You are the God of wisdom and truth.
You control when the sun rises and sets.
You are holy; none compare to You.
I beg you right now to help me.
I am struggling within myself.
I know the right thing to do
But my human nature hinders me.
I know I am not worthy of Your mercy
But I need it, O Lord.
Please have mercy on my soul.
Grant me your guidance; show me Your ways.
Give me patience to endure this burden
You seemed fit to place on me.
Help me to learn what You want me to from this experience.
I am humbled at Your power
And feel thankful for the grace You have already given me.
I know I do not deserve it, yet You give it freely.
Thank You, God. May my lips sing Your praises
High into the heavens.
I chose Ps. 143, which is dubbed "An Earnest Appeal for Guidance and Deliverance." There was no particular reason for choosing it. I was flipping through the book and thought this topic would be relatable for me to write about.
Dear Lord, I cry to You right now.
You are the God of wisdom and truth.
You control when the sun rises and sets.
You are holy; none compare to You.
I beg you right now to help me.
I am struggling within myself.
I know the right thing to do
But my human nature hinders me.
I know I am not worthy of Your mercy
But I need it, O Lord.
Please have mercy on my soul.
Grant me your guidance; show me Your ways.
Give me patience to endure this burden
You seemed fit to place on me.
Help me to learn what You want me to from this experience.
I am humbled at Your power
And feel thankful for the grace You have already given me.
I know I do not deserve it, yet You give it freely.
Thank You, God. May my lips sing Your praises
High into the heavens.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Day 51: My Prayer for You, Little One
All the prompts are in order now.
The Prompt: Write a prayer for your child.
My prayer for you, little one, is that you will never forget that you are loved. Even when you are at your lowest, always remember that I am there for you. You can tell me anything, anything at all, and I will not laugh or judge. I can still listen, even if I might not be able to always help. Remember that you are surrounded by so many people who love you so much and are just as willing as I am to help you.
Love yourself. Embrace your strengths. Accept your flaws. You should not be ashamed of yourself or try to change for anyone. Be true to yourself. It might sound cliched, but it is the truth.
Most importantly, above all else, love God. Love the One who made you and loves you more than anyone else. Always obey Him first. Give Him your heart, my darling. It's a decision you will never regret. Trust in God and make Jesus your best friend. Don't let your fears get the best of you. With God on your side, you never have to be afraid of anything.
I pray that God will strengthen, protect and keep you from harm, and help you shine to be the person He created you to be. Wherever life takes you, please don't forget about me. Know you always have a place here. May God bless you with all you will do in your life and keep you from as much pain as possible.
With much love, now and forever,
Your mother
Writing this was a bit surreal. It will be years and years before I can ever show this to a child of my own, but it was nice to think about.
The Prompt: Write a prayer for your child.
My prayer for you, little one, is that you will never forget that you are loved. Even when you are at your lowest, always remember that I am there for you. You can tell me anything, anything at all, and I will not laugh or judge. I can still listen, even if I might not be able to always help. Remember that you are surrounded by so many people who love you so much and are just as willing as I am to help you.
Love yourself. Embrace your strengths. Accept your flaws. You should not be ashamed of yourself or try to change for anyone. Be true to yourself. It might sound cliched, but it is the truth.
Most importantly, above all else, love God. Love the One who made you and loves you more than anyone else. Always obey Him first. Give Him your heart, my darling. It's a decision you will never regret. Trust in God and make Jesus your best friend. Don't let your fears get the best of you. With God on your side, you never have to be afraid of anything.
I pray that God will strengthen, protect and keep you from harm, and help you shine to be the person He created you to be. Wherever life takes you, please don't forget about me. Know you always have a place here. May God bless you with all you will do in your life and keep you from as much pain as possible.
With much love, now and forever,
Your mother
Writing this was a bit surreal. It will be years and years before I can ever show this to a child of my own, but it was nice to think about.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Day 50: Road Trip
Wow, Day 50!
The Prompt: Expand on a story your parents told you when you were a child.
I remember that my mom told me once she and her family took a road trip from Ohio to see Niagara Falls. It's mind-blowing enough to think about my mom as a child abut even more bizarre to think of her on a road trip with her family. I'm pretty sure it was in the summertime, perhaps right after school ended. Let's say my mom was about twelve or thirteen. Then came my uncle with my aunt as the baby of the family.
I'm sure Momma had her suitcase all packed the night before and made a little note for herself to grab any last minute items. She shared a room with her sister. My aunt could have kept my mom up late with excited chatter about their big trip. I'm sure Momma was excited as well. I'm sure they had to wake up really early. With five in the family, I can speak from personal experience that there was a fight over the shower. Being as smart as she is, my mom was probably one of the first ones in.
My grandmother probably asked them several times whether they had packed certain things as she walked through the house, inspecting it for any last minute things to clean, while my grandfather loaded up the car. With three females, there was probably a lot of luggage to secure. After my grandmother made sure they ate a hearty breakfast, they took off on their big road trip adventure. Considering past road trips I've been on, they probably left a half hour to an hour later than they expected.
They were no iPods, Gameboys, or even portable record players back then. All they had was the radio, books, toys, and each other to pass the time. The radio played the news or some popular groovy song that they all sang along to. I'm sure there were many bathroom breaks along the way. My mom could have fought with her siblings at one point over the things they had to amuse themselves. Maybe they played with some action figures or other toys and made up stories about them. However they passed the time, it must have felt like an eternity when they finally arrived, but I'm sure the view at Niagara Falls made the entire trip worth it.
The Prompt: Expand on a story your parents told you when you were a child.
I remember that my mom told me once she and her family took a road trip from Ohio to see Niagara Falls. It's mind-blowing enough to think about my mom as a child abut even more bizarre to think of her on a road trip with her family. I'm pretty sure it was in the summertime, perhaps right after school ended. Let's say my mom was about twelve or thirteen. Then came my uncle with my aunt as the baby of the family.
I'm sure Momma had her suitcase all packed the night before and made a little note for herself to grab any last minute items. She shared a room with her sister. My aunt could have kept my mom up late with excited chatter about their big trip. I'm sure Momma was excited as well. I'm sure they had to wake up really early. With five in the family, I can speak from personal experience that there was a fight over the shower. Being as smart as she is, my mom was probably one of the first ones in.
My grandmother probably asked them several times whether they had packed certain things as she walked through the house, inspecting it for any last minute things to clean, while my grandfather loaded up the car. With three females, there was probably a lot of luggage to secure. After my grandmother made sure they ate a hearty breakfast, they took off on their big road trip adventure. Considering past road trips I've been on, they probably left a half hour to an hour later than they expected.
They were no iPods, Gameboys, or even portable record players back then. All they had was the radio, books, toys, and each other to pass the time. The radio played the news or some popular groovy song that they all sang along to. I'm sure there were many bathroom breaks along the way. My mom could have fought with her siblings at one point over the things they had to amuse themselves. Maybe they played with some action figures or other toys and made up stories about them. However they passed the time, it must have felt like an eternity when they finally arrived, but I'm sure the view at Niagara Falls made the entire trip worth it.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Day 49: Bleak Sunset
The Prompt: The pastor comes into church and finds the place
ransacked. What happens?
"Olivia, I'm going to be leaving for the church now!" Pastor Reynolds called as he tied his shoes.
His wife walked over by the front door. "Isn't it a little early?"
"I wanted to rehearse at the pulpit today. I seem to be...restless here. I can't concentrate."
Olivia looked hurt until he quickly added. "It's nothing you did. I just a need a place where all my lacking responsibilities around the house aren't haunting me."
"But if they don't haunt you, you'll never get them done," she smiled. "I understand. I'll meet you there in another hour."
"Alright, honey." Pastor Reynolds tied his other shoe and gave his wife a kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too!"
The pastor lived about fifteen minutes away from the church, making it quite convenient to travel back and forth whenever he needed. The sun was already beginning to set over the rolling hills of red and yellow colored maple trees. In another couple of weeks, he would need to get his rake.
The church parking lot was empty, and Pastor Reynolds parked in his normal spot at the edge of the spaces. He saved the spots nearest the church for his elderly members who couldn't walk very far anymore. Besides, a little extra exercise couldn't hurt his stomach. Pastor stepped out of his silver car and walked to the front doors. He whistled a hymn they would be singing that evening while he unlocked the doors. His whistling stopped abruptly after the doors swung open.
Pews were overturned. Hymnals were scattered all over the floor. The pulpit was lying on its side. Colored shards of glass from a couple of stain-glassed windows were sprinkled around the feet of the old organ. Curtains were ripped. The wooden cross on the wall at the front of the church was crooked. On an adjacent wall, bitter words were spray-painted in green, along with what looked like a two-headed snake. Then Pastor Reynolds noticed a few silver and gold decorations, such as a pair of candlesticks and one of the utensils used for communion, were missing.
Crestfallen and a bit fearful, Pastor Reynolds carefully stepped over the broken pieces of an angel statue and walked to his office. The doorknob was broken, and the lock had been jimmied. His office shared a similar fate to the church, with overturned furniture, strewn books, broken windows, and spray paint. He checked his desk drawer, and sure enough, his cash box with the tithe money from Sunday's services was missing. He had intended to take it to the bank after services, but he was tired and postponed it until after today's services.
"Dear Lord," he prayed aloud as he ambled through the chaotic rooms, "I don't know how someone could damage Your house. I'm so sorry You have to see this. I'm sure if breaks Your heart much more than it breaks mine. I pray for the souls who did this. They must be in some serious trouble. Please forgive them, and please forgive me for not being a good steward with the tithe money. The congregation gave generously and I lost their precious gift. I can never get that back. Help me be able to at least get the main part of the church cleaned up in time for service tonight."
By this time, he was sitting on a front pew with his head rested heavily in his hands. He stayed this way for a few minutes and was risen out of it when he heard a cry from the front doors. He looked up and saw Becky, the worship leader for that night, standing horrified.
"What happened, Pastor Reynolds?!" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Vandals! Thieves! How could they?! Oh, I'm so sorry, Pastor Reynolds." She walked over to him. "Did you call the police?"
"No," he answered quietly. "I didn't think about that."
"We have to! We have to find out who did this."
"But what about tonight's service? I don't want to cancel it."
"We're going to have to. There's no way we can get this cleaned up in time, and the police might need us to preserve the crime scene for evidence."
"You're right," he sighed. "Maybe I can have some of the members over at my house. I'll give Olivia a call."
While he did that, Becky called the police then her husband Todd and told both happened.
The police arrived in about five minutes and started interviewing the pastor and taking pictures.
"Can you think of anyone that would want to do this? An angry church member?"
"No, officer. Everyone is so friendly in this town. This sort of thing never happens."
"What about any suspicious behavior?"
"Well," he thought aloud. "A couple of weeks ago, our lights went out for a few minutes. Jim- he's an electrician who attends- Jim checked the fuse box and said they shouldn't have gone out. He couldn't figure out what caused it. I think he suspected it was deliberate."
The policeman wrote this down. A fellow female officer interrupted him. "I asked the homeowners and businessmen around the area if they heard anything peculiar today, and the owner of the gas station store said he noticed a red car zoom away from around this area about an hour ago. He didn't think much of it at the time. He noticed the license plate though. He said it started with 'XG7.' "
Do you remember this story? I told you they'd be back. Look back at "XG7." There's still more to come.
"Olivia, I'm going to be leaving for the church now!" Pastor Reynolds called as he tied his shoes.
His wife walked over by the front door. "Isn't it a little early?"
"I wanted to rehearse at the pulpit today. I seem to be...restless here. I can't concentrate."
Olivia looked hurt until he quickly added. "It's nothing you did. I just a need a place where all my lacking responsibilities around the house aren't haunting me."
"But if they don't haunt you, you'll never get them done," she smiled. "I understand. I'll meet you there in another hour."
"Alright, honey." Pastor Reynolds tied his other shoe and gave his wife a kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too!"
The pastor lived about fifteen minutes away from the church, making it quite convenient to travel back and forth whenever he needed. The sun was already beginning to set over the rolling hills of red and yellow colored maple trees. In another couple of weeks, he would need to get his rake.
The church parking lot was empty, and Pastor Reynolds parked in his normal spot at the edge of the spaces. He saved the spots nearest the church for his elderly members who couldn't walk very far anymore. Besides, a little extra exercise couldn't hurt his stomach. Pastor stepped out of his silver car and walked to the front doors. He whistled a hymn they would be singing that evening while he unlocked the doors. His whistling stopped abruptly after the doors swung open.
Pews were overturned. Hymnals were scattered all over the floor. The pulpit was lying on its side. Colored shards of glass from a couple of stain-glassed windows were sprinkled around the feet of the old organ. Curtains were ripped. The wooden cross on the wall at the front of the church was crooked. On an adjacent wall, bitter words were spray-painted in green, along with what looked like a two-headed snake. Then Pastor Reynolds noticed a few silver and gold decorations, such as a pair of candlesticks and one of the utensils used for communion, were missing.
Crestfallen and a bit fearful, Pastor Reynolds carefully stepped over the broken pieces of an angel statue and walked to his office. The doorknob was broken, and the lock had been jimmied. His office shared a similar fate to the church, with overturned furniture, strewn books, broken windows, and spray paint. He checked his desk drawer, and sure enough, his cash box with the tithe money from Sunday's services was missing. He had intended to take it to the bank after services, but he was tired and postponed it until after today's services.
"Dear Lord," he prayed aloud as he ambled through the chaotic rooms, "I don't know how someone could damage Your house. I'm so sorry You have to see this. I'm sure if breaks Your heart much more than it breaks mine. I pray for the souls who did this. They must be in some serious trouble. Please forgive them, and please forgive me for not being a good steward with the tithe money. The congregation gave generously and I lost their precious gift. I can never get that back. Help me be able to at least get the main part of the church cleaned up in time for service tonight."
By this time, he was sitting on a front pew with his head rested heavily in his hands. He stayed this way for a few minutes and was risen out of it when he heard a cry from the front doors. He looked up and saw Becky, the worship leader for that night, standing horrified.
"What happened, Pastor Reynolds?!" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Vandals! Thieves! How could they?! Oh, I'm so sorry, Pastor Reynolds." She walked over to him. "Did you call the police?"
"No," he answered quietly. "I didn't think about that."
"We have to! We have to find out who did this."
"But what about tonight's service? I don't want to cancel it."
"We're going to have to. There's no way we can get this cleaned up in time, and the police might need us to preserve the crime scene for evidence."
"You're right," he sighed. "Maybe I can have some of the members over at my house. I'll give Olivia a call."
While he did that, Becky called the police then her husband Todd and told both happened.
The police arrived in about five minutes and started interviewing the pastor and taking pictures.
"Can you think of anyone that would want to do this? An angry church member?"
"No, officer. Everyone is so friendly in this town. This sort of thing never happens."
"What about any suspicious behavior?"
"Well," he thought aloud. "A couple of weeks ago, our lights went out for a few minutes. Jim- he's an electrician who attends- Jim checked the fuse box and said they shouldn't have gone out. He couldn't figure out what caused it. I think he suspected it was deliberate."
The policeman wrote this down. A fellow female officer interrupted him. "I asked the homeowners and businessmen around the area if they heard anything peculiar today, and the owner of the gas station store said he noticed a red car zoom away from around this area about an hour ago. He didn't think much of it at the time. He noticed the license plate though. He said it started with 'XG7.' "
Do you remember this story? I told you they'd be back. Look back at "XG7." There's still more to come.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Day 48: Improvision
The Prompt: Someone stole all the bread for communion and you only
have five minutes to grab something else. What do you use instead?
Why?
What a heinous crime! Alright, now stay focused with the problem at hand. Saltine crackers would be a good substitute? It must be in these white cabinets over here. Where are they? I wonder what the church is doing with all these cans of prunes? Hmmm. No crackers! Now what to do? I guess I'll just keep looking through the cabinets. Paper plates, coffee, water bottles, apple juice. Wait a minute, what's back here? Animal crackers! These must be for the preschoolers. This is a big box and brand new. It looks like there would be enough. I guess this will have to do. They can be animal sacrifices!
I quickly grabbed the box and raced back to the tray of tiny paper cups and started preparing the trays for communion. I got some weird stares, but overall it turned out okay. God provides in mysterious ways.
What a heinous crime! Alright, now stay focused with the problem at hand. Saltine crackers would be a good substitute? It must be in these white cabinets over here. Where are they? I wonder what the church is doing with all these cans of prunes? Hmmm. No crackers! Now what to do? I guess I'll just keep looking through the cabinets. Paper plates, coffee, water bottles, apple juice. Wait a minute, what's back here? Animal crackers! These must be for the preschoolers. This is a big box and brand new. It looks like there would be enough. I guess this will have to do. They can be animal sacrifices!
I quickly grabbed the box and raced back to the tray of tiny paper cups and started preparing the trays for communion. I got some weird stares, but overall it turned out okay. God provides in mysterious ways.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Day 47
A short one today. Time got away from me! God has been telling me something these past few days. He wants us to put Him first in our lives. I know we try to keep Him first by reading our Bible and praying, but too easily we get lost in our priorities. When you wake up in the morning, what do you think about? What's the thing that motivates you throughout the day? It's easy to think about your family or that TV show you're looking forward to watching tonight. Even your friends can make you happy. Nothing lasts forever though. God is the only One who is constant. That's not to say that all those things are bad. They can bring us joy, and God uses them to bless us! Just put your anchors in the best spots.
Day 46: Sunday School isn't Supposed to Be Stressful
The Prompt: Mary starts her first day at Sunday School for 5 year
olds. What happens?
:( I posted it a few minutes late.
Mary carried two large cloth bags, an easel, posters, and an armful of books into the small room that was opposite the nursery. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she was wearing a pink blouse, long black skirt, and comfortable ballet flats. She was running late; a few parents were already waiting in the room with their children. Mary was already nervous.
She quickly started setting up her teaching materials while the parents left her alone with the two girls and three boys, two of which were twins. "Please don't leave me yet," she thought desperately. She wanted this job. Now she had to deal with all the responsibility it entailed.
One boy, she thought the mother said his name was Nick, was already rummaging through her bag. "Hey, Nick, please don't do that." She started pulling the bag away from him and putting it on a high table.
"But I thought I saw cookies in there. I'm hungry."
"Those aren't for you," she fibbed.
"Jesus says we should share."
Mary was too flustered to respond.
"Oooo, these are pretty!" a small girl's voice uttered.
"Please, Gabby, don't touch those posters. They're very special."
"My name is Abby."
"Oh, sorry."
"Teacher lady," one of the twins tugged at her skirt, "Adam won't give me a turn with the truck like Mom said."
Mary looked over at the boy in the red striped shirt. His hands did not look willing to part with the coveted object. "Can't you let him have the truck for a little bit longer?"
"I want it now!" he whined.
Mary had been setting up her easel and was fumbling with the posters as she listened. "When I'm done with this, I'll go help you, okay?"
"Okay," he said, not sounding satisfied.
A few more children were thrust into her care, and the stress Mary was feeling slowly rose like the waters during the Great Flood.
"Is church going to start yet?" a black-haired girl with pig tails named Rhonda asked.
"Are we going to have homework like in real school?" a boy with glasses wondered.
"No, Sunday School isn't really like school. It's more fun. And we'll be starting soon, Ruby."
"Rhonda!"
"Right. Rhonda. Sorry about that." Mary flipped through her papers of notes, putting them in chronological order when she was interrupted again by Lori, who had asked her before where was the bathroom was.
"Ms. Mary? Todd is standing on the table." Her small fingers pointed to a boy in a green-striped shirt, the other twin, who was stomping back and forth along the table.
"Hey, get down!" Mary set her papers on the floor to carry Todd off the table. "You're not allowed to climb on furniture."
"But it's fun!"
"I'm sorry, but I make the rules. Stay off."
She returned to find her papers disarranged again after Daniel stepped on them as he was running after the glasses kid. She quickly started picking them up but was forced to stop when she heard an argument break out over the crayon box. They had gotten into her bag and had started coloring the activity sheets she had been saving for later. After she was able to pull the kids apart and take away the source of the argument, she saw the mess the children had created in less than the ten minutes she had been there.
"Sunday School isn't supposed to be stressful!" she cried internally. "It's supposed to be fun. They're just little kids." Mary kept the tears back and whispered a little prayer.
"Ms. Mary?"
"Yes, Lori?" she sighed.
"Can we sing a Bible song?"
A song! Mary had forgotten the CD she had packed. Where was it? Oh, in the bag with the cookies! Mary practically ran to it, pulled out the CD player and CD, and plugged everything in.
"Okay, everyone!" she called. "It's time to get started! Come sit down in your seats! Let's start by singing a song." She quickly looked on the back CD cover. " 'Jesus Loves Me!' "
She pressed play and encouraged the kids to sing along with her while she cleaned up. Only a few kids listened to her, but at least their energy died down. Once everything was picked up good enough, she stood in front of the chairs and led them through the body movements for "Father Abraham," which encouraged more children to participate. By the third song, she had everyone's attention. It warmed her hearts to see their smiling, innocent young faces singing about Jesus.
"This is why I wanted to teach Sunday School," she thought peacefully.
:( I posted it a few minutes late.
Mary carried two large cloth bags, an easel, posters, and an armful of books into the small room that was opposite the nursery. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she was wearing a pink blouse, long black skirt, and comfortable ballet flats. She was running late; a few parents were already waiting in the room with their children. Mary was already nervous.
She quickly started setting up her teaching materials while the parents left her alone with the two girls and three boys, two of which were twins. "Please don't leave me yet," she thought desperately. She wanted this job. Now she had to deal with all the responsibility it entailed.
One boy, she thought the mother said his name was Nick, was already rummaging through her bag. "Hey, Nick, please don't do that." She started pulling the bag away from him and putting it on a high table.
"But I thought I saw cookies in there. I'm hungry."
"Those aren't for you," she fibbed.
"Jesus says we should share."
Mary was too flustered to respond.
"Oooo, these are pretty!" a small girl's voice uttered.
"Please, Gabby, don't touch those posters. They're very special."
"My name is Abby."
"Oh, sorry."
"Teacher lady," one of the twins tugged at her skirt, "Adam won't give me a turn with the truck like Mom said."
Mary looked over at the boy in the red striped shirt. His hands did not look willing to part with the coveted object. "Can't you let him have the truck for a little bit longer?"
"I want it now!" he whined.
Mary had been setting up her easel and was fumbling with the posters as she listened. "When I'm done with this, I'll go help you, okay?"
"Okay," he said, not sounding satisfied.
A few more children were thrust into her care, and the stress Mary was feeling slowly rose like the waters during the Great Flood.
"Is church going to start yet?" a black-haired girl with pig tails named Rhonda asked.
"Are we going to have homework like in real school?" a boy with glasses wondered.
"No, Sunday School isn't really like school. It's more fun. And we'll be starting soon, Ruby."
"Rhonda!"
"Right. Rhonda. Sorry about that." Mary flipped through her papers of notes, putting them in chronological order when she was interrupted again by Lori, who had asked her before where was the bathroom was.
"Ms. Mary? Todd is standing on the table." Her small fingers pointed to a boy in a green-striped shirt, the other twin, who was stomping back and forth along the table.
"Hey, get down!" Mary set her papers on the floor to carry Todd off the table. "You're not allowed to climb on furniture."
"But it's fun!"
"I'm sorry, but I make the rules. Stay off."
She returned to find her papers disarranged again after Daniel stepped on them as he was running after the glasses kid. She quickly started picking them up but was forced to stop when she heard an argument break out over the crayon box. They had gotten into her bag and had started coloring the activity sheets she had been saving for later. After she was able to pull the kids apart and take away the source of the argument, she saw the mess the children had created in less than the ten minutes she had been there.
"Sunday School isn't supposed to be stressful!" she cried internally. "It's supposed to be fun. They're just little kids." Mary kept the tears back and whispered a little prayer.
"Ms. Mary?"
"Yes, Lori?" she sighed.
"Can we sing a Bible song?"
A song! Mary had forgotten the CD she had packed. Where was it? Oh, in the bag with the cookies! Mary practically ran to it, pulled out the CD player and CD, and plugged everything in.
"Okay, everyone!" she called. "It's time to get started! Come sit down in your seats! Let's start by singing a song." She quickly looked on the back CD cover. " 'Jesus Loves Me!' "
She pressed play and encouraged the kids to sing along with her while she cleaned up. Only a few kids listened to her, but at least their energy died down. Once everything was picked up good enough, she stood in front of the chairs and led them through the body movements for "Father Abraham," which encouraged more children to participate. By the third song, she had everyone's attention. It warmed her hearts to see their smiling, innocent young faces singing about Jesus.
"This is why I wanted to teach Sunday School," she thought peacefully.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Day 45: Love at First Sight
Happy Valentine's Day! In honor of the holiday, I have saved this prompt. Just remember, Valentine's Day is for all kinds of love, not just the romantic sort. It's for mothers and children, brothers and sisters, friends, neighborly love, and of course God's precious love for us.
The Prompt: Write a short story on how the Shulamite and the Beloved from the Song of Solomon meet. (I am going by memory of the Song of Solomon, so please forgive any Biblical errors I make.)
The Shulamite woman with the long dark hair went into town several times a week, sometimes to run errands for her brothers, other times to buy groceries for dinner, and still other times to sell items in the market. Ever since her mother had died four years ago, the weight of the household affairs rested on her shoulders. Yet despite the fact that she worked hard, she still managed to maintain her beauty. A few men had approached her father for her hand in marriage, but he had refused them. The household needed her, and her father was not just going to give his only daughter away to anyone.
That morning, King Solomon was expected to visit the city in order to make sure his "mayors" were doing their duties and that his subjects were happy. Solomon enjoyed spending one-on-one time with them. Sometimes he asked them just to treat him as a normal person. He wanted to be approachable to them. At the time, Solomon was still a young king and only had three wives. He was growing even more handsome by the day, and all his female subjects felt their hearts race slightly when he was near.
Solomon had been on his donkey for well over three hours, and the sun was directly overheard now. He desired to get down and stretch his legs, so he instructed his guards to follow him at a distance while he walked around for a bit to find some water. The town was busy; the crops had just come in, and people wanted to have the first pick. Solomon draped his tunic over his face a little, in hopes to at least partially conceal his identity.
As he made his way through the swarming people around him, he stopped short when he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen at one of the stalls in front of him. She was weighing a bag of lentils in her hand to decide how many pounds to purchase. Solomon stared at her slender hands, her hair draped over her shoulders as it peeked through her headwrap, and watched her delicate mouth moved as she talked to the vendor. Solomon had to meet this woman. He began striding over towards her, but a man on his donkey walked right in front of him, with his family and their wagon trailing behind him. Solomon impatiently tried to see over them, but after they had moved, the woman was gone.
Solomon quickly strode over and asked the surprised older man where the young woman had gone. Flustered, the man gestured towards a tent to Solomon's right. Solomon followed the fingered and stared helplessly at the dozens of rows of tents mingled with thousands of shoppers. He quickly thanked the man and started on his quest.
Solomon searched for two hours down that road, staring into the sea of faces and asking each vendor if they had seen the young woman. It was an arduous task that proved fruitless. Solomon was so absorbed in his hunt that he did not think to ask his guards for help. Now he was exhausted and quite thirsty. He started asking around for a nearby well.
The Shulamite looked over the bags and baskets that were tied to her donkey to make sure they were all secure and double-checked her mental list to make sure she got everything. One quick stop at the well to water her donkey before she started back home would complete her errands for the day. As she was about to mount, she noticed a tired-looking man, wearing expensive white clothes, wandering from person to person like some beggar. Curious, she approached him and overheard him mention a well.
"Excuse me, sir!" she called.
His large brown eyes locked on hers and made her stomach flip. He walked quickly towards her.
"Yes?" Solomon asked softly. She was even more beautiful close-up.
"Are you looking for a well?"
"Yes, I am," he said in a friendly, rich tone.
"I happen to be going that way. I can escort you there, if you'd like." She shyly lowered her eyes.
"I would like that very much. Here." Solomon gently took her donkey's rope from her hands. "Let me help you with that."
They almost never took their eyes off each other as they walked to the well.
The Prompt: Write a short story on how the Shulamite and the Beloved from the Song of Solomon meet. (I am going by memory of the Song of Solomon, so please forgive any Biblical errors I make.)
The Shulamite woman with the long dark hair went into town several times a week, sometimes to run errands for her brothers, other times to buy groceries for dinner, and still other times to sell items in the market. Ever since her mother had died four years ago, the weight of the household affairs rested on her shoulders. Yet despite the fact that she worked hard, she still managed to maintain her beauty. A few men had approached her father for her hand in marriage, but he had refused them. The household needed her, and her father was not just going to give his only daughter away to anyone.
That morning, King Solomon was expected to visit the city in order to make sure his "mayors" were doing their duties and that his subjects were happy. Solomon enjoyed spending one-on-one time with them. Sometimes he asked them just to treat him as a normal person. He wanted to be approachable to them. At the time, Solomon was still a young king and only had three wives. He was growing even more handsome by the day, and all his female subjects felt their hearts race slightly when he was near.
Solomon had been on his donkey for well over three hours, and the sun was directly overheard now. He desired to get down and stretch his legs, so he instructed his guards to follow him at a distance while he walked around for a bit to find some water. The town was busy; the crops had just come in, and people wanted to have the first pick. Solomon draped his tunic over his face a little, in hopes to at least partially conceal his identity.
As he made his way through the swarming people around him, he stopped short when he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen at one of the stalls in front of him. She was weighing a bag of lentils in her hand to decide how many pounds to purchase. Solomon stared at her slender hands, her hair draped over her shoulders as it peeked through her headwrap, and watched her delicate mouth moved as she talked to the vendor. Solomon had to meet this woman. He began striding over towards her, but a man on his donkey walked right in front of him, with his family and their wagon trailing behind him. Solomon impatiently tried to see over them, but after they had moved, the woman was gone.
Solomon quickly strode over and asked the surprised older man where the young woman had gone. Flustered, the man gestured towards a tent to Solomon's right. Solomon followed the fingered and stared helplessly at the dozens of rows of tents mingled with thousands of shoppers. He quickly thanked the man and started on his quest.
Solomon searched for two hours down that road, staring into the sea of faces and asking each vendor if they had seen the young woman. It was an arduous task that proved fruitless. Solomon was so absorbed in his hunt that he did not think to ask his guards for help. Now he was exhausted and quite thirsty. He started asking around for a nearby well.
The Shulamite looked over the bags and baskets that were tied to her donkey to make sure they were all secure and double-checked her mental list to make sure she got everything. One quick stop at the well to water her donkey before she started back home would complete her errands for the day. As she was about to mount, she noticed a tired-looking man, wearing expensive white clothes, wandering from person to person like some beggar. Curious, she approached him and overheard him mention a well.
"Excuse me, sir!" she called.
His large brown eyes locked on hers and made her stomach flip. He walked quickly towards her.
"Yes?" Solomon asked softly. She was even more beautiful close-up.
"Are you looking for a well?"
"Yes, I am," he said in a friendly, rich tone.
"I happen to be going that way. I can escort you there, if you'd like." She shyly lowered her eyes.
"I would like that very much. Here." Solomon gently took her donkey's rope from her hands. "Let me help you with that."
They almost never took their eyes off each other as they walked to the well.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Day 44: Planet X
The Prompt: The pastor’s an alien from another planet. What
happens?
This one was done a little hastily...again. :( I have homework to do.
"Bjork?"
"Yes, Oolog?"
"I want a status report on Yenti."
"Yes, sir." Bjork pulled up some files on a large clear computer screen that was inside the information center of their space craft. "It looks like he has been doing well. This is what his earthling form looks like."
"Balding with a large stomach and glasses? Humans are frightening. How are they responding to him."
"Quite well, it appears. They were a little cautious about warming up to him, but after Yenti mimicked some of the other...pastors, he seemed to do better. It looks like all the people in the, uhhh, church is trusting him. They are talking with him, giving him gifts, and other gestures of kindness."
"And has he found out any good information about them?"
"Yes. Many of the females have shared their life stories or household affairs with him, and Yenti has sent them all to us, just as you ordered."
"Excellent!"
"It even looks like he has men of power believing him. A sheriff, a district attorney, and a man on the city council."
"It looks like Yenti is adjusting well!"
A red light flashed on the screen. Bjork clicked on the alert. "Oolog, Yenti has just sent us a video message."
"Play it," the leader commanded.
Yenti's face filled the screen. "Hello, Oolog, Jik, Bjork, and everyone else who might see this. I, uh, hope you are all doing well. I. I have come to an important decision, Oolog. I have learned many things since I came to Earth four months ago. Humans are not what we thought. Sure, some are not bright, but these people are kind, honest earthlings who genuinely seem to care about me. And this God that I keep preaching about, well, he's a pretty amazing person. He said a lot of things in this Bible that, that I'm starting to believe. I can't keep lying to the humans anymore. It isn't right. I know they might not take the news of my identity very well at first, but I have to tell them. I'm sorry I let you down. I won't reveal any of our secrets. Tell my brother I will not forget him. Goodbye."
The screen abruptly went black.
"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!!!!!"
"Now, now, Oolog, try not to get so excited."
"I want him extracted NOW!"
"Yes, sir."
Another alert, this time one that sounded an alarm, appeared. Bjork quickly clicked on it. He said in a small voice, "Sir, we might be too late. I have just been informed that he has already told them."
Oolog, too irate to say a thing, left the information center in a rush.
Bjork sighed as he turned back to his computer. "Earth will never be the same."
This one was done a little hastily...again. :( I have homework to do.
"Bjork?"
"Yes, Oolog?"
"I want a status report on Yenti."
"Yes, sir." Bjork pulled up some files on a large clear computer screen that was inside the information center of their space craft. "It looks like he has been doing well. This is what his earthling form looks like."
"Balding with a large stomach and glasses? Humans are frightening. How are they responding to him."
"Quite well, it appears. They were a little cautious about warming up to him, but after Yenti mimicked some of the other...pastors, he seemed to do better. It looks like all the people in the, uhhh, church is trusting him. They are talking with him, giving him gifts, and other gestures of kindness."
"And has he found out any good information about them?"
"Yes. Many of the females have shared their life stories or household affairs with him, and Yenti has sent them all to us, just as you ordered."
"Excellent!"
"It even looks like he has men of power believing him. A sheriff, a district attorney, and a man on the city council."
"It looks like Yenti is adjusting well!"
A red light flashed on the screen. Bjork clicked on the alert. "Oolog, Yenti has just sent us a video message."
"Play it," the leader commanded.
Yenti's face filled the screen. "Hello, Oolog, Jik, Bjork, and everyone else who might see this. I, uh, hope you are all doing well. I. I have come to an important decision, Oolog. I have learned many things since I came to Earth four months ago. Humans are not what we thought. Sure, some are not bright, but these people are kind, honest earthlings who genuinely seem to care about me. And this God that I keep preaching about, well, he's a pretty amazing person. He said a lot of things in this Bible that, that I'm starting to believe. I can't keep lying to the humans anymore. It isn't right. I know they might not take the news of my identity very well at first, but I have to tell them. I'm sorry I let you down. I won't reveal any of our secrets. Tell my brother I will not forget him. Goodbye."
The screen abruptly went black.
"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!!!!!"
"Now, now, Oolog, try not to get so excited."
"I want him extracted NOW!"
"Yes, sir."
Another alert, this time one that sounded an alarm, appeared. Bjork quickly clicked on it. He said in a small voice, "Sir, we might be too late. I have just been informed that he has already told them."
Oolog, too irate to say a thing, left the information center in a rush.
Bjork sighed as he turned back to his computer. "Earth will never be the same."
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Day 43: Be Careful What You Wish For
The Prompt: Write a short story based on, "Do not be rash with your mouth and let not our heart utter hastily before God." Ecc. 5:1
Once there was a teenager who was tired of doing his chores. They were bothersome to him. Whenever he had any free time, he always had to wash the dishes or clean up his room. His mother could always find something new for him to do, and whatever he wanted to do would have to wait. He had a new video game that he had only been able to play twice in the two weeks he had gotten it. His baseball card collection was in dire need of some reorganization.
One day, his mother, before she went to work, instructed her son to vacuum and dust the downstairs because the family was having company over for dinner that night.
"There goes my afternoon! It's like I have to pick between doing homework or doing something I want. If I don't get any free time for myself, I'm going to go crazy!" he stomped to the closet to pull out the vacuum. "I wish that I didn't have to do chores ever again! I wish that God could just take them all away from me!"
The teen plugged in the vacuum and swept up the downstairs. He finished just in time to weed the front yard before his mom came home and asked him to help set the table for dinner. Once their company left, he regretfully did his homework and went to bed.
The next day, after he came home from school, he expected his mother to remind him to do the dishes or inform him the car should be washed. However, she never said a thing. When he asked if there was anything he needed to do, she simply answered, "Don't worry. It's being taken care of."
He thought it was weird but didn't question it. He finished his homework quickly and finally found time to play his video game. The same thing happened the next day and the next, and the day after that. Every time he asked if chores needed done, his mother told him not to concern himself with it. He even looked out for things to do, but the house always looked clean. His mother or father didn't do anything. It was a miracle!
With the house and yard perpetually clean, the teenager was able to have much more free time on his hands. No stress, no worries, just fun. He soon got all he wanted to do done and made a new list of things he wanted to do in the past but had never seemed to have time to do before. In the summertime, chores still failed to exist. He could do whatever he wanted. It was almost too much freedom, but he wasn't concerned.
All good things come with a price. The following school year, he started goofing off more than studying because it was too easy to ignore his work. His grades started failing. Since he wasn't doing any physical labor and sat in front of the TV on most weekends, he became lazy. He wouldn't pick up after himself, and he grew fat. Eventually, he flunked his junior year of high school. He had to repeat the grade twice because he couldn't grasp the concept. When he finally did graduate, four years late, he couldn't get into a good college because his SAT scores were too low. He couldn't find a stable job because he was shiftless and lacked knowledge and experience. His life was a failure.
Let this be a cautionary tale. Even though you may want something, that doesn't mean you should have it. God makes you go through things for a reason, good or bad. Hard work and sacrifice always pay off in the end.
Once there was a teenager who was tired of doing his chores. They were bothersome to him. Whenever he had any free time, he always had to wash the dishes or clean up his room. His mother could always find something new for him to do, and whatever he wanted to do would have to wait. He had a new video game that he had only been able to play twice in the two weeks he had gotten it. His baseball card collection was in dire need of some reorganization.
One day, his mother, before she went to work, instructed her son to vacuum and dust the downstairs because the family was having company over for dinner that night.
"There goes my afternoon! It's like I have to pick between doing homework or doing something I want. If I don't get any free time for myself, I'm going to go crazy!" he stomped to the closet to pull out the vacuum. "I wish that I didn't have to do chores ever again! I wish that God could just take them all away from me!"
The teen plugged in the vacuum and swept up the downstairs. He finished just in time to weed the front yard before his mom came home and asked him to help set the table for dinner. Once their company left, he regretfully did his homework and went to bed.
The next day, after he came home from school, he expected his mother to remind him to do the dishes or inform him the car should be washed. However, she never said a thing. When he asked if there was anything he needed to do, she simply answered, "Don't worry. It's being taken care of."
He thought it was weird but didn't question it. He finished his homework quickly and finally found time to play his video game. The same thing happened the next day and the next, and the day after that. Every time he asked if chores needed done, his mother told him not to concern himself with it. He even looked out for things to do, but the house always looked clean. His mother or father didn't do anything. It was a miracle!
With the house and yard perpetually clean, the teenager was able to have much more free time on his hands. No stress, no worries, just fun. He soon got all he wanted to do done and made a new list of things he wanted to do in the past but had never seemed to have time to do before. In the summertime, chores still failed to exist. He could do whatever he wanted. It was almost too much freedom, but he wasn't concerned.
All good things come with a price. The following school year, he started goofing off more than studying because it was too easy to ignore his work. His grades started failing. Since he wasn't doing any physical labor and sat in front of the TV on most weekends, he became lazy. He wouldn't pick up after himself, and he grew fat. Eventually, he flunked his junior year of high school. He had to repeat the grade twice because he couldn't grasp the concept. When he finally did graduate, four years late, he couldn't get into a good college because his SAT scores were too low. He couldn't find a stable job because he was shiftless and lacked knowledge and experience. His life was a failure.
Let this be a cautionary tale. Even though you may want something, that doesn't mean you should have it. God makes you go through things for a reason, good or bad. Hard work and sacrifice always pay off in the end.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Day 42: He Thought What?!
The Prompt: Write from the POV of your computer. What does
it think about you?
Ouch! Why does she have to pound my keys so hard?!! I do respond to just a little tap. My keys aren't that hard to press.
What does she think she's doing still staying on here? She's gotta go to bed, do the dishes. Shame on her. It's days like this where I wish I could turn myself off.
Whoah! My head is spinning from that girl typing my keys so fast. It's making me sick!
I remember the good old days when she used to run scans on me all the time. I'm so congested now.
Today, I feel like running extra ssllloooowwwwwwwww.
I'm tired. Let's watch her freak out as I turn myself off. *goes to black screen*
How on earth can I remember all this stuff?!
Boy, those new Windows laptops come in different pretty colors. And their keypads can detach! I'm jealous.
Up, down, up, down. I go everywhere, don't I?
Don't let that crumb fall on me, don't let it fall, don't let it fall! Ohhh, that tickles! Well, that's gonna be hard to get out now.
I wish I had a different face to stare at every once in a while.
I've been through two major surgeries, three different power cords, and two batteries. I'm still running strong!
Ouch! Why does she have to pound my keys so hard?!! I do respond to just a little tap. My keys aren't that hard to press.
What does she think she's doing still staying on here? She's gotta go to bed, do the dishes. Shame on her. It's days like this where I wish I could turn myself off.
Whoah! My head is spinning from that girl typing my keys so fast. It's making me sick!
I remember the good old days when she used to run scans on me all the time. I'm so congested now.
Today, I feel like running extra ssllloooowwwwwwwww.
I'm tired. Let's watch her freak out as I turn myself off. *goes to black screen*
How on earth can I remember all this stuff?!
Boy, those new Windows laptops come in different pretty colors. And their keypads can detach! I'm jealous.
Up, down, up, down. I go everywhere, don't I?
Don't let that crumb fall on me, don't let it fall, don't let it fall! Ohhh, that tickles! Well, that's gonna be hard to get out now.
I wish I had a different face to stare at every once in a while.
I've been through two major surgeries, three different power cords, and two batteries. I'm still running strong!
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Day 41: The Wave
I had to write a poem for class tomorrow, so I thought I would use that for today's blog post.
The Wave
The warm, gentle sun was overhead
As I stood in the refreshing water.
Brilliant blue and green,
It calmly swirled around me,
Feeling like a soft blanket that enveloped me.
I took a deep breath and drank in the peace and joy.
"Just a little bit farther," I thought to myself,
And I waded out just a few yards more.
The water quivered around me and began
Pulling pulling pulling me
Away from the warmth.
I heeded not the warning signs.
Suddenly a massive tower of gray crashed heavily down, destroying
The world I knew above me; I lost my footing.
I didn't know which way was up or down.
Bitter regret filled my mouth.
Panic clutched my heart
As the wave robbed me of my breath.
The refreshing water, once my friend, was now my enemy
As it thrust tiny daggers of ice into my heart.
All I saw was darkness,
Black, hollow darkness.
Just when I thought the end was near, a tiny
Glimmer of hope pierced the grim abyss.
I stretched, I reached, I kicked, I struggled
Against the powerful weight on me.
With a sudden surge of strength from an unknown source
I burst through the barrier
And breathed in the sweet air.
I do not blame the wave.
It is innocent, only doing what it knows.
It was I who was at fault, me the one to blame.
I should not have reached for
Something I knew I could not have.
I stand in the shallow water
As the sun beats down on my head.
This is where I belong.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Day 40: The Real Story of Jack and Jill
The Prompt: You're a reporter, and you just saw Jill push Jack down the hill. What happens to Jill?
I had been on my way to visit Mr. Mahoney's grocery store on Drury Lane. Mother Hubbard claimed he had sold her some moldy bones which made her dog sick. I was going to hear his side of the story. The main road into town was blocked off by the king's men, some sort of accident on the stone wall, so I took the back road. It was rather cold, even though the sun was out, and I pulled my tan trench coat closer to my body.
I hadn't been back that way in a while. I had forgotten how green, and steep, the hills were. There was one hill in particular that had some daffodils and wild flowers growing on it and at the top was an old well. It was a quaint sight. As I continued looking, I saw two small people, who I suspected were children, walking up the side of the hill. They were shouting at each other, although I couldn't tell what about. While they walked, they kept grabbing a bucket out of each other's hands. It looked funny, so I stayed around to watch. After a few minutes of walking this way, they reached the top of the hill, but the arguing never stopped. Then, I watched the girl (I could tell it was a girl because of her two long braids) deliberately shove the other kid, Jack, down the hill. The kid tumbled down the hill like a heavy boulder, and the pail rolled along with him. I watched the girl stare after him as he fell, then she saw me. She turned around and tried to run, but she lost her balance, probably on some pebbles or something, and sure enough, she tumbled after the boy.
As you can see, I have taken pictures of the whole event with my camera that I always keep around my neck. Once I saw the girl was falling, I ran over to the other kid, who had fallen by that time. His head and face were all bloody and bruised. I had enough sense not to move him, but I called out for someone to help. Luckily, I heard some jingling on the road and knew that fine lady who always rides her horse around town was coming. She ran for the doctor while I stayed with the kids.
When Jill fell down, she tried to get up as soon as possible. She faltered when she stood (probably dizzy) but ran away. I tried to run after her, but the girl was just too quick. I saw her face clearly though. I'll never forget it. She had seen the poor kid lying on the ground, all busted up, and she was glad. When she saw me, she just knew she had to run. She knew what she did, and she was happy about it.
Anyways, when she had disappeared over the hills, I tried to talk to the boy a little. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, but I learned his name was Jack. After the doctor came and took him away. I gathered the pail as evidence and went straight to my office to write my story. It was too perfect not to pass up. Thanks to my photos and descriptions, the police were able to give detailed information to the public to keep an eye out for her.
About four months after the event occurred, the police was able to apprehend Jill. Apparently that crooked old guy-the one suspected of selling stolen food at a discount to the old woman who lives in a shoe (you know the one in jail or child abuse?)- anyways, he was hanging around his house one night when he thought he saw a wolf on the edge of the woods. He grabbed his gun and followed it in hopes of scaring it away from his house. That's when he found Jill. I guess she was working with the Big Bad Wolf. She'd lure his victims, so he could attack. The little pigs confirmed she sold them the dry-rot wood, and Red swears she talked to her on her way to her granny's house.
Well, the crooked man, who recognized Jill right off, invited her to his house for some food then tied her up and called the police. You know the rest, Your Honor. The police came, arrested Jill, asked me to identity her, and here we are in court.
I had been on my way to visit Mr. Mahoney's grocery store on Drury Lane. Mother Hubbard claimed he had sold her some moldy bones which made her dog sick. I was going to hear his side of the story. The main road into town was blocked off by the king's men, some sort of accident on the stone wall, so I took the back road. It was rather cold, even though the sun was out, and I pulled my tan trench coat closer to my body.
I hadn't been back that way in a while. I had forgotten how green, and steep, the hills were. There was one hill in particular that had some daffodils and wild flowers growing on it and at the top was an old well. It was a quaint sight. As I continued looking, I saw two small people, who I suspected were children, walking up the side of the hill. They were shouting at each other, although I couldn't tell what about. While they walked, they kept grabbing a bucket out of each other's hands. It looked funny, so I stayed around to watch. After a few minutes of walking this way, they reached the top of the hill, but the arguing never stopped. Then, I watched the girl (I could tell it was a girl because of her two long braids) deliberately shove the other kid, Jack, down the hill. The kid tumbled down the hill like a heavy boulder, and the pail rolled along with him. I watched the girl stare after him as he fell, then she saw me. She turned around and tried to run, but she lost her balance, probably on some pebbles or something, and sure enough, she tumbled after the boy.
As you can see, I have taken pictures of the whole event with my camera that I always keep around my neck. Once I saw the girl was falling, I ran over to the other kid, who had fallen by that time. His head and face were all bloody and bruised. I had enough sense not to move him, but I called out for someone to help. Luckily, I heard some jingling on the road and knew that fine lady who always rides her horse around town was coming. She ran for the doctor while I stayed with the kids.
When Jill fell down, she tried to get up as soon as possible. She faltered when she stood (probably dizzy) but ran away. I tried to run after her, but the girl was just too quick. I saw her face clearly though. I'll never forget it. She had seen the poor kid lying on the ground, all busted up, and she was glad. When she saw me, she just knew she had to run. She knew what she did, and she was happy about it.
Anyways, when she had disappeared over the hills, I tried to talk to the boy a little. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, but I learned his name was Jack. After the doctor came and took him away. I gathered the pail as evidence and went straight to my office to write my story. It was too perfect not to pass up. Thanks to my photos and descriptions, the police were able to give detailed information to the public to keep an eye out for her.
About four months after the event occurred, the police was able to apprehend Jill. Apparently that crooked old guy-the one suspected of selling stolen food at a discount to the old woman who lives in a shoe (you know the one in jail or child abuse?)- anyways, he was hanging around his house one night when he thought he saw a wolf on the edge of the woods. He grabbed his gun and followed it in hopes of scaring it away from his house. That's when he found Jill. I guess she was working with the Big Bad Wolf. She'd lure his victims, so he could attack. The little pigs confirmed she sold them the dry-rot wood, and Red swears she talked to her on her way to her granny's house.
Well, the crooked man, who recognized Jill right off, invited her to his house for some food then tied her up and called the police. You know the rest, Your Honor. The police came, arrested Jill, asked me to identity her, and here we are in court.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Day 39: What is It?
I am rearranging the order of the prompts slightly.
The Prompt: Describe a _________, but you can't say _________.
Just taste that juicy succulence! As you bite into its flesh, the juice dribbles down your chin, and the tart flavor fills your mouth. The darker it is, the sweeter it is. Its color absorbs the sunlight instead of reflects it. This particular small object grows inside out from other produce like it. It grows on a bush, in patches, and can only grow as big as the palm of your hand. You can dice it, slice it, freeze it, dry it, and preserve it.
The flavor of this produce is so well-loved that it is incorporated into several different kinds of foods and beverages. Mothers use it in smoothies. Children, particularly little girls, love having this flavor of ice cream. It is quite popular in candy. Some folks might want it in their cereal. Young and old alike enjoy it when it is used in desserts. It is normally paired with long, yellow fruit. It is associated with summertime. Designers use it to decorate clothes and other prints. There was even a toy created in the 70's that was named after it.
Still stumped? The word "strawberry" was supposed to go in the blanks above. :)
The Prompt: Describe a _________, but you can't say _________.
Just taste that juicy succulence! As you bite into its flesh, the juice dribbles down your chin, and the tart flavor fills your mouth. The darker it is, the sweeter it is. Its color absorbs the sunlight instead of reflects it. This particular small object grows inside out from other produce like it. It grows on a bush, in patches, and can only grow as big as the palm of your hand. You can dice it, slice it, freeze it, dry it, and preserve it.
The flavor of this produce is so well-loved that it is incorporated into several different kinds of foods and beverages. Mothers use it in smoothies. Children, particularly little girls, love having this flavor of ice cream. It is quite popular in candy. Some folks might want it in their cereal. Young and old alike enjoy it when it is used in desserts. It is normally paired with long, yellow fruit. It is associated with summertime. Designers use it to decorate clothes and other prints. There was even a toy created in the 70's that was named after it.
Still stumped? The word "strawberry" was supposed to go in the blanks above. :)
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Day 38: Bibles Banned
The Prompt: A new law is passed: Bibles aren’t
allowed in churches. What happens?
I believe that some people would move to a different country. Others would start picketing D.C., demanding that this be changed immediately. Still others would cheer, as sad as that is.
Mostly though, I picture it would be the Prohibition, Underground Railroad, and First Century Church Persecution days all over again. People would be making bootleg copies of the Bible to spread around. Some Christians would have secret underground networks to distribute Bibles or conduct private Bible studies. Even church services would have to be done in private because you can't preach without quoting the Bible. It would be pretty hard to sweep Bible Gateway off the internet in the U.S. as well.
There could be some Christians who would not be worried though. They'd have faith that God would work it all out in the end. They would be thankful for being considered worthy to be persecuted in this way. They wouldn't have much to worry about either because Christians would have memorized the Bible anyways. You can take away the Bible, but you can never take away God or what is in your heart.
I believe that some people would move to a different country. Others would start picketing D.C., demanding that this be changed immediately. Still others would cheer, as sad as that is.
Mostly though, I picture it would be the Prohibition, Underground Railroad, and First Century Church Persecution days all over again. People would be making bootleg copies of the Bible to spread around. Some Christians would have secret underground networks to distribute Bibles or conduct private Bible studies. Even church services would have to be done in private because you can't preach without quoting the Bible. It would be pretty hard to sweep Bible Gateway off the internet in the U.S. as well.
There could be some Christians who would not be worried though. They'd have faith that God would work it all out in the end. They would be thankful for being considered worthy to be persecuted in this way. They wouldn't have much to worry about either because Christians would have memorized the Bible anyways. You can take away the Bible, but you can never take away God or what is in your heart.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Day 37: XG7
The Prompt: The lights go off as the pastor is beginning his sermon. What happens?
A few women shrieked, and a couple of men exclaimed, "What's going on?"
Pastor Reynolds laughed for a minute. "Well, I guess God wanted us to have some mood setting for tonight's sermon. Don't panic, everyone. I'm sure we can get this worked out in no time. It's probably just a short circuit or something. Is our electrician here?"
"I'm here, pastor!" he called from the center of the pews. "I'm going to look at it right now." He managed to weasel his way down the pew with only stepping on two toes. Then he pulled out a flashlight he had handy to guide his way to the fuse box outside.
A few people were using their phones as flashlights and discussing the oddities of the experience. Esther, the woman who had recently celebrated her 72nd birthday, was telling the man seated next to him how something like this happened to her when she was a girl at a church service during a terrible storm and that they had to light candles. She continued by saying that the night sky was clear, so that couldn't be the problem. She mused aloud whether Pastor Reynolds would have enough candles to light the way.
Jim was at the fuse box now. He found what the problem was after a brief inspection. He flipped a few switches and saw a bright light peek out from the window over his head and cast his shadow on the glass. He was about to go back inside when he saw to shadows ahead of him run off towards the parking lot.
Rather than shout, Jim quietly followed them. He cautiously shined his flashlight over the cars. The light reflected off their metal sides and blinded him, but he was able to catch a glimpse of two dark-colored heads duck behind a red car. Jim increased his steps as he went to follow them. Before he caught up however, the car started and drove away. It was a car he'd never seen before. His flashlight revealed the license started "XG7." Jim shook his head. There was no way the fuses tripped by themselves. They had help. He wasn't sure who those people were, but he hoped that was the last he'd see of them.
But will it be? You'll have to keep reading and perhaps, just maybe, they'll pop up again.
A few women shrieked, and a couple of men exclaimed, "What's going on?"
Pastor Reynolds laughed for a minute. "Well, I guess God wanted us to have some mood setting for tonight's sermon. Don't panic, everyone. I'm sure we can get this worked out in no time. It's probably just a short circuit or something. Is our electrician here?"
"I'm here, pastor!" he called from the center of the pews. "I'm going to look at it right now." He managed to weasel his way down the pew with only stepping on two toes. Then he pulled out a flashlight he had handy to guide his way to the fuse box outside.
A few people were using their phones as flashlights and discussing the oddities of the experience. Esther, the woman who had recently celebrated her 72nd birthday, was telling the man seated next to him how something like this happened to her when she was a girl at a church service during a terrible storm and that they had to light candles. She continued by saying that the night sky was clear, so that couldn't be the problem. She mused aloud whether Pastor Reynolds would have enough candles to light the way.
Jim was at the fuse box now. He found what the problem was after a brief inspection. He flipped a few switches and saw a bright light peek out from the window over his head and cast his shadow on the glass. He was about to go back inside when he saw to shadows ahead of him run off towards the parking lot.
Rather than shout, Jim quietly followed them. He cautiously shined his flashlight over the cars. The light reflected off their metal sides and blinded him, but he was able to catch a glimpse of two dark-colored heads duck behind a red car. Jim increased his steps as he went to follow them. Before he caught up however, the car started and drove away. It was a car he'd never seen before. His flashlight revealed the license started "XG7." Jim shook his head. There was no way the fuses tripped by themselves. They had help. He wasn't sure who those people were, but he hoped that was the last he'd see of them.
But will it be? You'll have to keep reading and perhaps, just maybe, they'll pop up again.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Day 36: What a Bird Saw
The Prompt: A bird is sitting on the wall as Jesus walks by
carrying his cross. What does the bird see, hear, smell? What does he
think?
A little brown bird sat on a wall enjoying the warm sunshine of the morning. He found it a little odd that it was colder than it normally was. The sun was already starting to disappear behind the clouds, and he guessed that it would rain soon. However, he was not going to let the weather spoil his good day. He continued chirping merrily away. The bird's singing was interrupted by a large mob of people gathering into the streets. It curiously watched as they started yelling and watching something coming in the distance. As the speck grew larger and larger, the little bird could see that it was a man haggardly walking and carrying a heavy burden on His back.
The man was hardly wearing any clothes; some thorns were shaped into a circle upon His head; bright red blood was trickling down His sides. Each step he took looked as if he was using his full strength. Men behind him with swords prodding him to go faster. The little bird could see the pain in this man's eyes and felt so sorry for Him. He wanted to do something to help Him, yet he didn't know what he could do. Even though the bird was afraid of the men with swords, it flew closer to the man carrying the heavy wooden burden. It hovered over the man's head and flew with Him as he walked. Upon getting a closer look, it could see that the man's back was covered with painful welts and red stripes. The sweat was dripping off of His nose, and He was now barely moving His feet. One of the men behind Him yelled again then struck the man, making Him cry out. This almost frightened the bird away, but he knew he could not leave the man yet. It could not understand why these people were being so cruel to the man, for it had never seen humans act this way before. The man's mouth seemed to have been moving, yet no sound came out. The bird could tell His pain was unbearable. Then, the bird got an idea: perhaps a song might relieve the man of some of His agony. It opened its mouth and began chirping a high-pitched, melodic tune. The man's head slowly turned towards the bird; their eyes met. Slowly, a small smile crept onto the man's face. Happy to know its plan was working, the bird sang louder. One could see that the man's pace picked up slightly. It continued to sing for a few more minutes as the man walked.
Later on, the man could not walk any farther and collapsed under the weight of His burden. The men with swords started shouting orders to find a man capable of helping to carry the burden. The bird had stopped chirping by now, but it was still hovering above the man. He looked like He was about to pass out, but when He stared at the little bird again, He nodded His head again as if to say, "Your work is done." More people started coming, and the bird reluctantly flew away. It still watched the scene long after the man had been nailed to the cross.
A little brown bird sat on a wall enjoying the warm sunshine of the morning. He found it a little odd that it was colder than it normally was. The sun was already starting to disappear behind the clouds, and he guessed that it would rain soon. However, he was not going to let the weather spoil his good day. He continued chirping merrily away. The bird's singing was interrupted by a large mob of people gathering into the streets. It curiously watched as they started yelling and watching something coming in the distance. As the speck grew larger and larger, the little bird could see that it was a man haggardly walking and carrying a heavy burden on His back.
The man was hardly wearing any clothes; some thorns were shaped into a circle upon His head; bright red blood was trickling down His sides. Each step he took looked as if he was using his full strength. Men behind him with swords prodding him to go faster. The little bird could see the pain in this man's eyes and felt so sorry for Him. He wanted to do something to help Him, yet he didn't know what he could do. Even though the bird was afraid of the men with swords, it flew closer to the man carrying the heavy wooden burden. It hovered over the man's head and flew with Him as he walked. Upon getting a closer look, it could see that the man's back was covered with painful welts and red stripes. The sweat was dripping off of His nose, and He was now barely moving His feet. One of the men behind Him yelled again then struck the man, making Him cry out. This almost frightened the bird away, but he knew he could not leave the man yet. It could not understand why these people were being so cruel to the man, for it had never seen humans act this way before. The man's mouth seemed to have been moving, yet no sound came out. The bird could tell His pain was unbearable. Then, the bird got an idea: perhaps a song might relieve the man of some of His agony. It opened its mouth and began chirping a high-pitched, melodic tune. The man's head slowly turned towards the bird; their eyes met. Slowly, a small smile crept onto the man's face. Happy to know its plan was working, the bird sang louder. One could see that the man's pace picked up slightly. It continued to sing for a few more minutes as the man walked.
Later on, the man could not walk any farther and collapsed under the weight of His burden. The men with swords started shouting orders to find a man capable of helping to carry the burden. The bird had stopped chirping by now, but it was still hovering above the man. He looked like He was about to pass out, but when He stared at the little bird again, He nodded His head again as if to say, "Your work is done." More people started coming, and the bird reluctantly flew away. It still watched the scene long after the man had been nailed to the cross.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Day 35: Trust
Another "freestyle" entry.
How many times have you worried about your future? How many times have you imagined all these different things that could happen for you or played the pros and cons of a huge decision in your head? Don't you just wish you could ask God what He has in store for you and what you should do? I know I do. I've prayed, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it! Even just a hint, please!" Everyone wants to feel like they are in control or have their plans all laid out for them. It makes Christians uneasy and even stressed out when they have to leave everything up to God.
Ironically, that is the best place it is going. Humans make mistakes. I want things done our own way, but our ideas are flawed. God's plans are perfect and are intended to help us. Why wouldn't we relax and let God handle everything? Because we would be losing control. It's uncomfortable knowing that we are not control of something. This is when we have to take the leap of faith and trust God to handle everything. He doesn't want us stressing needlessly over something. It's a lot harder to do than say though. It can take all your strength sometimes. It's worth it though. You'll look back a few years later and think, "Now why was I so worried about this?" Everything turns out alright in the end. Hold on, and God will hold on to you. Praying that He gives you the strength to trust.
How many times have you worried about your future? How many times have you imagined all these different things that could happen for you or played the pros and cons of a huge decision in your head? Don't you just wish you could ask God what He has in store for you and what you should do? I know I do. I've prayed, "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it! Even just a hint, please!" Everyone wants to feel like they are in control or have their plans all laid out for them. It makes Christians uneasy and even stressed out when they have to leave everything up to God.
Ironically, that is the best place it is going. Humans make mistakes. I want things done our own way, but our ideas are flawed. God's plans are perfect and are intended to help us. Why wouldn't we relax and let God handle everything? Because we would be losing control. It's uncomfortable knowing that we are not control of something. This is when we have to take the leap of faith and trust God to handle everything. He doesn't want us stressing needlessly over something. It's a lot harder to do than say though. It can take all your strength sometimes. It's worth it though. You'll look back a few years later and think, "Now why was I so worried about this?" Everything turns out alright in the end. Hold on, and God will hold on to you. Praying that He gives you the strength to trust.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Day 34: Word of Advice
I did not use my time very wisely today and don't have enough time for the prompt today, so I am writing a bit of advice my mom shared with me a few days ago. Before her yoga class, she always says, "Let go of expectations and judgments." She means that you don't have to worry about getting perfect poses in class. It's all about the experience. She realized that it can be applied to people. You can't expect people to act a certain way, or you'll just get hurt because they didn't act the way you thought they should. That's no real friendship or relationship. In addition, you shouldn't judge people, you have no idea what their situation is or what they've been through. It's none of your business.
My mom's advice is easy to say, but it's much harder to do in practice. It's hard not to make assumptions about why people are acting a certain way. It's hard not to be hurt when someone didn't answer your email/post/text right away or expect a little compassion from someone who should have been your friend. As my mom reminded me, "People make mistakes and will let you down. God won't." That's why Jesus is the best, only friend to have.
This advice can also be applied to your own actions. Don't expect yourself to act a certain perfect way. Accept your abilities for what they are. You can improve them, but be happy for what you are and how God created you. Trying your best is all you can do.
My mom's advice is easy to say, but it's much harder to do in practice. It's hard not to make assumptions about why people are acting a certain way. It's hard not to be hurt when someone didn't answer your email/post/text right away or expect a little compassion from someone who should have been your friend. As my mom reminded me, "People make mistakes and will let you down. God won't." That's why Jesus is the best, only friend to have.
This advice can also be applied to your own actions. Don't expect yourself to act a certain perfect way. Accept your abilities for what they are. You can improve them, but be happy for what you are and how God created you. Trying your best is all you can do.
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Day 33: Praying in Church
The Prompt: Watch a few people praying in church. What are they praying and why?
The first man looks to be about 40. He wears an pristine, seemingly unused dark suit with a blue and yellow striped silk tie and shiny black shoes. He smells of expensive cologne. I've talked to him once or twice before, and he questioned everything the pastor said. He never sings the worship songs or looks up Bible passages during the sermon. He simply sits in the pew with his arms crossed, listening intently. Now, this balding man is kneeling at the altar, unafraid of getting his pants wrinkled, with his hands clasped close under his chin and lips moving fervently. Not a sound can be heard from him. He's soul-searching, wondering if this God that everyone loves so much is real, wondering if He is the final answer that can bring meaning into his life.
Nearby is a young boy, I'd say about fourteen, who is also kneeling. He practically grew up in the church, as both of his parents are heavily involved in serving at church. His head is bowed, his hands folded neatly in front of his chest and his eyes shut tight. His life is still so young that his worries are few. He starts off by praising God for the message he heard in the sermon and then branches into praising God for his family, friends, for helping him win the game at school yesterday. Then he asks that God will help him practice the things that he learned today and keep them in his heart. He quickly adds that God will help him do well on his test in science class tomorrow.
In the first pew, not far from the altar, is a white-haired little woman wearing a pale pink dress suit and matching hat. We just celebrated her 72nd birthday on Tuesday. It's been years since she's been able to kneel, so she prays in her seat. She softly whispers her prayers to God. The deep wrinkles in her face show that she has seen many tribulations in her life, but her face is serene. She's been through this process a thousand times before. All she has to do is pray to God and let Him handle the rest. She has already prayed to Him about her normal prayer requests for her brothers and sisters in Christ. This time she has a special request for her grandniece. She's worried the teenager is slipping too far away from her parents and that it won't be long before she gets herself in real trouble. The old woman knows Her Father loves this girl and will protect her from harm. She humbly petitions that God will soften her grandniece's heart and eventually prod her to accept Him, whether it's through a family member or a stranger. She ends with praising God for all His blessings for which she is an unworthy recipient. This makes her even more grateful.
The first man looks to be about 40. He wears an pristine, seemingly unused dark suit with a blue and yellow striped silk tie and shiny black shoes. He smells of expensive cologne. I've talked to him once or twice before, and he questioned everything the pastor said. He never sings the worship songs or looks up Bible passages during the sermon. He simply sits in the pew with his arms crossed, listening intently. Now, this balding man is kneeling at the altar, unafraid of getting his pants wrinkled, with his hands clasped close under his chin and lips moving fervently. Not a sound can be heard from him. He's soul-searching, wondering if this God that everyone loves so much is real, wondering if He is the final answer that can bring meaning into his life.
Nearby is a young boy, I'd say about fourteen, who is also kneeling. He practically grew up in the church, as both of his parents are heavily involved in serving at church. His head is bowed, his hands folded neatly in front of his chest and his eyes shut tight. His life is still so young that his worries are few. He starts off by praising God for the message he heard in the sermon and then branches into praising God for his family, friends, for helping him win the game at school yesterday. Then he asks that God will help him practice the things that he learned today and keep them in his heart. He quickly adds that God will help him do well on his test in science class tomorrow.
In the first pew, not far from the altar, is a white-haired little woman wearing a pale pink dress suit and matching hat. We just celebrated her 72nd birthday on Tuesday. It's been years since she's been able to kneel, so she prays in her seat. She softly whispers her prayers to God. The deep wrinkles in her face show that she has seen many tribulations in her life, but her face is serene. She's been through this process a thousand times before. All she has to do is pray to God and let Him handle the rest. She has already prayed to Him about her normal prayer requests for her brothers and sisters in Christ. This time she has a special request for her grandniece. She's worried the teenager is slipping too far away from her parents and that it won't be long before she gets herself in real trouble. The old woman knows Her Father loves this girl and will protect her from harm. She humbly petitions that God will soften her grandniece's heart and eventually prod her to accept Him, whether it's through a family member or a stranger. She ends with praising God for all His blessings for which she is an unworthy recipient. This makes her even more grateful.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Day 32: My Future
The Prompt: When I grow up, I want to be a ______? Why?
Technically speaking I am already grown up, but I believe you're always growing and can have several "dream jobs" in life. When I was growing up, I didn't want to go to college. I didn't know what I wanted to be. I pictured I would live with my family until I got married then become a stay-at-home mom, just like my mother. That was the only job I ever needed. Later on, I was convinced I was going to be a professional ballet dancer. God had other ideas for me.
Now, I am still not sure what I want to do, but at least I have clearer picture. One day, I want to publish a book. It might be one short-lived novel. It could become part of a series for preteens/ teenagers. It would probably be similar to the type of writing I am doing in my blog. I have learned that writing is my passion, and I want to be able to inspire people in the same way books have inspired me. I think a younger audience fits me because I'm a kid at heart.
Okay, enough about me now. Thanks for reading! Hope you have a blessed weekend!
Technically speaking I am already grown up, but I believe you're always growing and can have several "dream jobs" in life. When I was growing up, I didn't want to go to college. I didn't know what I wanted to be. I pictured I would live with my family until I got married then become a stay-at-home mom, just like my mother. That was the only job I ever needed. Later on, I was convinced I was going to be a professional ballet dancer. God had other ideas for me.
Now, I am still not sure what I want to do, but at least I have clearer picture. One day, I want to publish a book. It might be one short-lived novel. It could become part of a series for preteens/ teenagers. It would probably be similar to the type of writing I am doing in my blog. I have learned that writing is my passion, and I want to be able to inspire people in the same way books have inspired me. I think a younger audience fits me because I'm a kid at heart.
Okay, enough about me now. Thanks for reading! Hope you have a blessed weekend!
Author's Picks for January
I've been doing this for a month now. Wow! A huge thank you to anyone who took the time to read my posts! Every month, I think I'm going to end with choosing my favorite posts of the month.
1. Day 13: The Thump I can relate to this one personally. It helped me when I wrote it, and I'm quite pleased with the finished product.
2. Day 24: Pastor's Secret This one was fun to write. It felt like this is one of my more polished stories. I even unintentionally wrote a metaphor in there. :)
3. Day 11: Longing for More This is another one I enjoyed writing. I liked thinking about the woman's past, and it seemed to put her in the right state of mind to receive inspiration from Jesus.
What were your favorites?
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