It was not an occasion she wanted to face. And in all honesty, she wanted to avoid it. But the time had come, for she no longer could live with herself.
No, it was worse than that. She no longer wanted to exist not if it meant living as she was now.
She went to her room and locked the door. There was no comfort there, only a silvery pool of an endless abyss reflecting back into her face. An empty heart cries no tears. She turned away embarrassed by the depravity of her own image she closed her eyes and leaned against the door for support. She was weakening just like all the other times.
The tired grind of the wooden fan was a weary reminder of so many things in her life that were broken. Its disjointed sway stirred the stench of her tattered clothing it was nauseating and revolting to her senses. Echoes of condemnation reverberated off four blue walls. Shame was going to win again.
There was only one way for her to survive another day only one possible thing to do.
Surrender surrender to Mercy.
Was it too late?
A sigh of trepidation fell heavy upon her crusted feet. She could not bear to look into His eyes for how could He bear to look upon her? Legs trembled shoulders drooped. She held onto the desk as she eased down to her knees the grind of the fan matching the ache of her limbs.
Would He hear her?
Rags fell off her as dust. A shroud of scarlet covered her nakedness as Righteousness was draped around her body already warm from the One who had worn it from the One who sat at the Fathers right hand.
Her skin tingled with renewed cleansing from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. Essence of Purity, so fragrant, filled her lungs, releasing life into deep sinews of her soul, purging the abyss.
A fresh Breeze lifted her face brushing away lose tendrils reviving parched cheeks. Its whispers banishing echoes of condemnation until there were none left. She was not alone.
Her Companion spoke as she struggled for words Let us approach the Throne of Grace with confidence so you may receive Mercy and find Grace to help you in your time of need.*
Her arms lifted like wings as she stood in apparel of such high Price. Apparel worthy to approach the King worthy along side her Companion.
The tired grind of the weary fan stirred a sweet savor a pleasing aroma to her Father One who crucified all shame a long time ago.
Whoa. I really like this. Description is well done!Thank you Lord for your Mercy and Grace! I could almost hear the whirring of the fan. Thank you for this beautiful piece Pat. Lord bless your writing hon. Hugs,Janice