The Prompt: You are the last one to leave church, and you hear a loud thump between the aisles. What happens?
I stood motionless for a second, too terrified to move. I thought I was the last person to leave. Was it an animal? Did something fall? I listened carefully to see if I could hear any other noises. It was quiet. Cautiously, I turned around and took one small step towards the noise. My heart pounded loudly, and I tried to steady my breath in order to be as silent as possible. I rounded the corner of the pews and peered down the aisle. There was a book lying in the middle of it. This did not steady my mind. Sure, it was only a book, but how did it get there? It was in the middle of the aisle, not near a bench. I looked around to see if I could see anyone. No one.
I walked closer to the book, feeling like an animal who was walking towards a disguised trap in the woods. One of the church windows that was hanging open creaked in the gentle breeze. I was next to the book now, which turned out to be a Bible, and a very worn one at that. I stooped down, gingerly picked it up, and started flipping to the cover. I thought maybe it was the pastor's, but there was no name or inscription found. I sighed at the dead end. My hand was still holding the spot where the Bible had been lying open to, so I flipped back to the pages. There was a single line highlighted in green, 1 Peter 5:7. Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.
I slumped down in the pew and read the tiny verse over and over again. Peter was telling me to give God my burden, the things that had been weighing my heart down for weeks. They were personal problems that couldn't really share with anyone else. I felt they were sort of my private cross to bear. I tried to be strong, praying to God about them and reading my Bible, but the burden seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. This past week, I had grown miserable from the weight of them. I had hoped today's sermon would help, but nothing the pastor said today had been relative to me.
And now, here, sitting open my lap, was the very thing I had been searching for. God was saying I didn't have to struggle with this alone. I didn't have to try to fix it. I was to give it to him, just a small child would give his father a toy that needed fixing. God would fix it for me because He cared about me. He loved me. I stared at the large wooden cross that was affixed above the pulpit onto the wall in front of me and was reminded of Jesus. Even He couldn't carry His cross alone. Once all this fully sank in, a gush of tears flowed, releasing all the stress and pain I had been holding onto for weeks. I embraced the relief I felt as my body shook from the crying. I prayed aloud that God would release me from my burden and carry it for me.
Once I stopped crying, I sat there with my eyes closed. Even though I had no idea how my problems would be fixed, I was at peace knowing I had left them in capable hands. I could sense God's presence with me in that lonely church, and I wanted dwell near Him as much as I could. Suddenly, I felt something light touch my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at my shoulder and around me. Nothing was there. It was curious. I still didn't know where the Bible came from later. It didn't matter. I warmly touched the verse, which was a little wet from my tears, before I closed the Bible and placed it next to me on the pew. Someone would claim it. As I rose to go, something caught my eye under the pew in front of me. I bent down to take a closer look. It was a feather. A long, pure white feather.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Day 12: Sheep
The Prompt: Write from one of David's sheep's POV.
I didn't have much time on the computer today, so this is rather short. This is probably the worst one I've posted so far.
It's kind of cold out today. I'm glad I have my wool coat. Ooo, that tuft of grass looks tasty. *Munch munch. Who's that coming over here? Oh it's David. He's such a kind master. I remember when he saved me from a hole in the ground. I didn't know it was there. It was hidden in the underbrush. But David knew where it was. He goaded me away from it. I could have broken a leg. Even his hand feels kind on my back. It feels strong, yet warm. He's knows just where to itch me.
Now he's going over to his favorite tree to sit and watch us. Master normally talks to God or writes down something on his scroll. See? I hear him talking to his God now. He sounds troubled. He's pacing around too. I wonder what is bothering him. Who is Goliath? I've never heard Master mention that name before. Now he's walking over to the river. Getting a drink perhaps? What's in the water that has caught his attention. It's...small...stones. He's pulling them out. One, two, three, four, five stones. What could Master want to do with those?
I didn't have much time on the computer today, so this is rather short. This is probably the worst one I've posted so far.
It's kind of cold out today. I'm glad I have my wool coat. Ooo, that tuft of grass looks tasty. *Munch munch. Who's that coming over here? Oh it's David. He's such a kind master. I remember when he saved me from a hole in the ground. I didn't know it was there. It was hidden in the underbrush. But David knew where it was. He goaded me away from it. I could have broken a leg. Even his hand feels kind on my back. It feels strong, yet warm. He's knows just where to itch me.
Now he's going over to his favorite tree to sit and watch us. Master normally talks to God or writes down something on his scroll. See? I hear him talking to his God now. He sounds troubled. He's pacing around too. I wonder what is bothering him. Who is Goliath? I've never heard Master mention that name before. Now he's walking over to the river. Getting a drink perhaps? What's in the water that has caught his attention. It's...small...stones. He's pulling them out. One, two, three, four, five stones. What could Master want to do with those?
Friday, January 11, 2013
Day 11: Longing for More
The Prompt: Flesh out the woman from the well who met Jesus and gave Him some water. Who is she? Why did she divorce all her husbands and live with her boyfriend? Why did the other woman not like her? What was her name?
I tried researching an accurate name for her, maybe something that meant "lost" or "sadness", but I couldn't find anything. She shall be named The Woman. As depressing as this story is, it was rather easy to write. You can't judge a person until you've walked a mile in her shoes.
When I was fourteen, I ran away and got married. I know that might sound a little young, but what can I say? I was in love. Pah! Love has never helped me any. I thought I was in love. It turns out my first husband was selfish and saw me only as someone he wanted when he felt like it. Otherwise, he made me clean and keep house until my hands were raw. I think our marriage really fell apart after we lost our first baby during delivery. He wouldn't forgive me for being a failure as a woman. I managed to divorce him by age 17. I married my second husband soon afterwards. I thought we were happy at first, but we grew apart. We really tried to make it work, but something was always missing. I think he met someone else towards the end. I could never prove it. We divorced after four years, and I took our two-year-old son with me.
My life changed forever after I met my third husband. He was my favorite, my only love. The world seemed brighter, everything seemed better with him by my side. I'll never forget the kindness he showed to me, a poor divorcee with a hungry toddler. He could have chosen any woman much better than me to marry. Instead, he chose to love me. I'll treasure that love forever. He always treated me right, and he loved my son like he was his own. He loved our daughter the same way. It's a shame he never got to see what his own son looked like. He was killed during a mob when he went to market one day. A part of me died with him.
The days were a blur after that. Thanks to his sister's kindness, I was not alone when my third child was born. She and her husband helped us out for a few months, giving us a room to share and enough food to eat, but I could not take advantage of her kindness any longer. I left in the cover of night. It was too painful living in a town where everywhere I turned I was reminded of my dead husband.
My children and I traveled for a few days before I finally found a place that was suitable for us all to live. We lived off of the charity of others for a little while, but there is only so much that can provide for three young ones. I had to do something to help take care of them. It went against what I wanted to do in my heart, but I was a desperate woman. I found a man in town who was rich and single, and I used my womanly charm to convince him to marry me. Too bad I have poor taste in men. He was mean and reminded me of my first husband. I think he even looked on me with disdain. Again, that marriage was short-lived, and I packed up my children and left.
By this time my oldest was nearly ten, but I felt like I had aged 15 years since I had him. I tried working out in the fields for a little while, gleaning what I could. Even the children helped when they could. Everyone was so nice to me in that town too. They thought I was a widow struggling to provide for my three children, which was partially true. Why did my younger son have to let it slip that Mommy had left another man before we moved? Public opinion changed towards us after that. Yet, still there was a man who looked kindly on us, who soon became husband #5.
I really think he married me out of pity at first, but perhaps he had fallen in love with me. He did look like he had a broken heart after I told him I wanted a divorce. Sure, call me cruel and heartless if you want. Maybe I was. I was tired an worn. My heart was so scarred you couldn't find a clean spot to stick a knife in it anymore. I couldn't let anybody, not even my husband get close to me. I couldn't bear to go through what happened with my dear third husband again. That's why I refused to love. I did feel guilty after leaving him though. The kids really seemed to like him. I probably wouldn't have left him if I had known I was pregnant. I didn't find out until a couple months later.
The town thought we divorced because I had an affair. I didn't care what they thought after that. I went back to gleaning. I didn't bring home as much as I used to, even though the harvest was plentiful. I couldn't live like this forever. I had a new baby. I was beginning to think even my children hated me. They needed a provider, stability, but I couldn't get married, not again. So I hung out around various unattached men, trying to see if they liked me enough to let us hang around. I was getting old. My feminine charm wasn't as strong as it used to be, but finally it caught someone's attention.
That's where I am now. My boyfriend and I have a mutual understanding. We like each other and have a good time sometimes, but we know it's not love. He's not sure if he's ready for marriage, and I don't want it. I let him see other women, and he helps me provide for my children. I have a side job, but I'm too ashamed to tell you what it is. It helps me feed my kids, and that's all that matters.
Even though this system works well, I feel a void in my life. I'm going through the motions. I'm not living. My oldest son ran away last year. My daughter doesn't respect me. Even my younger son is starting not to love me as much. Only my toddler loves me. She doesn't know any better yet. I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can't. I just have to live with my miserable existence. No one understands. They just glare at me and remember how I treated my last husband. No forgiveness. No love. How can anyone though, when I can't even feel that way towards myself?
I tried researching an accurate name for her, maybe something that meant "lost" or "sadness", but I couldn't find anything. She shall be named The Woman. As depressing as this story is, it was rather easy to write. You can't judge a person until you've walked a mile in her shoes.
When I was fourteen, I ran away and got married. I know that might sound a little young, but what can I say? I was in love. Pah! Love has never helped me any. I thought I was in love. It turns out my first husband was selfish and saw me only as someone he wanted when he felt like it. Otherwise, he made me clean and keep house until my hands were raw. I think our marriage really fell apart after we lost our first baby during delivery. He wouldn't forgive me for being a failure as a woman. I managed to divorce him by age 17. I married my second husband soon afterwards. I thought we were happy at first, but we grew apart. We really tried to make it work, but something was always missing. I think he met someone else towards the end. I could never prove it. We divorced after four years, and I took our two-year-old son with me.
My life changed forever after I met my third husband. He was my favorite, my only love. The world seemed brighter, everything seemed better with him by my side. I'll never forget the kindness he showed to me, a poor divorcee with a hungry toddler. He could have chosen any woman much better than me to marry. Instead, he chose to love me. I'll treasure that love forever. He always treated me right, and he loved my son like he was his own. He loved our daughter the same way. It's a shame he never got to see what his own son looked like. He was killed during a mob when he went to market one day. A part of me died with him.
The days were a blur after that. Thanks to his sister's kindness, I was not alone when my third child was born. She and her husband helped us out for a few months, giving us a room to share and enough food to eat, but I could not take advantage of her kindness any longer. I left in the cover of night. It was too painful living in a town where everywhere I turned I was reminded of my dead husband.
My children and I traveled for a few days before I finally found a place that was suitable for us all to live. We lived off of the charity of others for a little while, but there is only so much that can provide for three young ones. I had to do something to help take care of them. It went against what I wanted to do in my heart, but I was a desperate woman. I found a man in town who was rich and single, and I used my womanly charm to convince him to marry me. Too bad I have poor taste in men. He was mean and reminded me of my first husband. I think he even looked on me with disdain. Again, that marriage was short-lived, and I packed up my children and left.
By this time my oldest was nearly ten, but I felt like I had aged 15 years since I had him. I tried working out in the fields for a little while, gleaning what I could. Even the children helped when they could. Everyone was so nice to me in that town too. They thought I was a widow struggling to provide for my three children, which was partially true. Why did my younger son have to let it slip that Mommy had left another man before we moved? Public opinion changed towards us after that. Yet, still there was a man who looked kindly on us, who soon became husband #5.
I really think he married me out of pity at first, but perhaps he had fallen in love with me. He did look like he had a broken heart after I told him I wanted a divorce. Sure, call me cruel and heartless if you want. Maybe I was. I was tired an worn. My heart was so scarred you couldn't find a clean spot to stick a knife in it anymore. I couldn't let anybody, not even my husband get close to me. I couldn't bear to go through what happened with my dear third husband again. That's why I refused to love. I did feel guilty after leaving him though. The kids really seemed to like him. I probably wouldn't have left him if I had known I was pregnant. I didn't find out until a couple months later.
The town thought we divorced because I had an affair. I didn't care what they thought after that. I went back to gleaning. I didn't bring home as much as I used to, even though the harvest was plentiful. I couldn't live like this forever. I had a new baby. I was beginning to think even my children hated me. They needed a provider, stability, but I couldn't get married, not again. So I hung out around various unattached men, trying to see if they liked me enough to let us hang around. I was getting old. My feminine charm wasn't as strong as it used to be, but finally it caught someone's attention.
That's where I am now. My boyfriend and I have a mutual understanding. We like each other and have a good time sometimes, but we know it's not love. He's not sure if he's ready for marriage, and I don't want it. I let him see other women, and he helps me provide for my children. I have a side job, but I'm too ashamed to tell you what it is. It helps me feed my kids, and that's all that matters.
Even though this system works well, I feel a void in my life. I'm going through the motions. I'm not living. My oldest son ran away last year. My daughter doesn't respect me. Even my younger son is starting not to love me as much. Only my toddler loves me. She doesn't know any better yet. I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can't. I just have to live with my miserable existence. No one understands. They just glare at me and remember how I treated my last husband. No forgiveness. No love. How can anyone though, when I can't even feel that way towards myself?
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