A couple of years ago I entered a writing challenge - write a short story using the following prompt:
Face to Face Conversation.
If I remember correctly, I placed in the top 3 in my level (intermediate). Just re-read it this evening and thought..."Did I write that?" It encouraged me to start writing in the
Faithwriters weekly challenges again. Here's the story...
*****
The day had started off well enough, except for the fact that I had to leave
early and missed my quiet time with God. I made a mental note to spend time in
the Word and prayer later in the day.
It was a typical Monday at work. I
suspect there are pesky demons who slither into office buildings on the weekend
to hide important documents and put hexes on computers and various other office
machines. By 10:15 this morning Mr. Richardson was demanding the marketing
report, which my computer refused to print. The coffee machine had dispensed a
cup of coffee – minus the cup. Even Sharla, who worked at the next desk and was
usually in a great mood was being a pain.
My daughter's school called at
2:00 o'clock.
“Mrs. Baker, your daughter has skipped her last two classes
and was found smoking in the restroom. She's been suspended, please come right
away to pick her up.”
That went over big with Richardson.
“Lydia,
I can't have a marketing director who isn't committed to her job.”
Being
a single mom sucks!
The drive home with a sulking teenager was the
highlight of my day...at least it was quiet.
She stomped off to her room
and slammed the door to let me know just how angry she was. Believe me, I felt
like slamming a few doors myself. Instead, I walked to my room and plopped into
the chair where I usually spend the mornings with God.
“Where are you?” I
whispered.
I swallowed hard at the lump in my throat, then closed my eyes
and allowed my mind to review all the things that were wrong with my life. It
seemed that struggle filled every nook and cranny of my existence. The tears
came, unbidden and my spirit began a slow descent.
I was all too familiar
with depression. It had become a close companion over the last couple of years
since my divorce, but several weeks ago, the ladies in my small group had prayed
for me and I had actually felt it lift. Each day that followed was a little
brighter than the last and I had thought that maybe...perhaps, the depression
was gone for good.
Now, I felt it creeping its way back into my
heart.
I reached for my Bible and opened it, praying that I would find
something to hold onto, something to keep me from slipping back into the
darkness.
I let my Bible fall open and began to read Psalms 43. When I
reached the 5th verse, my heart did a little flip-flop.
“Why are you
downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I
will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”
I read it several times. The
Psalmist was talking to himself!
I got up and marched myself into the
bathroom, flipped on the light and had a little face-to-face conversation with
the gal in the mirror.
“Now, you look here, Lydia Baker – I will not
tolerate this moping around. God is still on the throne and He is still in
control. You are not walking through this world alone. You are walking
hand-in-hand with your Savior, Jesus Christ and there is nothing in this life
that He can not see you through. You are blessed beyond measure and have much to
rejoice about, so shake this off and begin to praise God.”
And I
did...right there in the bathroom, staring myself in the eye, I raised my hands
and began to praise God for all the good things in my life. I sang, I prayed, I
proclaimed my love for the One who gives me every reason to hope.
I only
stopped when I saw my daughter standing in the doorway.
“Have you lost
your mind?” she asked.
I slipped my arm through hers and
smiled.
“Nope! I just renewed it.” I said. “Let's talk.”
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(Copyright© 2012 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)
