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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Memory (07/10/08)

TITLE: Memory M E T A M O R P H O S I S
By Dori Wentland
07/12/08


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Tears streamed down her face once again to remind her of a pain she once embraced. She held it so tightly at first, fearing she might loose sight of the very thing that had given her life meaning, purpose, passion; all the qualities of a life lived out loud.

“God, it hurts,” she cried. The wound was still fresh. “It hurts so bad. I can hardly breath under the weight of this pain. It's eating me alive... my soul, my heart, everything that makes me, me.”

Wading through the landscape of her mind, she wandered why the very memory that has produced so much pain also has the capacity to produce immense pleasure. After all, he was her one and only love. Even now, she could hear his voice, see his face, and even feel his touch. His feet were now traveling the streets of heaven yet his memory was hidden in the recesses of her mind.

Catching every tear she has shed since the beginning of her time here on earth, her heavenly father hovered above listening to her every thought. The dimension of space and time so immense between the grit of earth and the purity of heaven to her, yet to Him, close enough to reach out and touch the very soul.

“Remember, my child,…” a voice from beyond echoed within. “I gave him to you for a time and for a purpose, because I love you.”

Interrupting the still, strong voice penetrating the air surrounding her young, feminine frame she quickly quipped, “then why Lord? Why did you take him away?” Pain surged through her words soaked in disappointment as she gazed upon a picture of their three supple-faced children staring back at her.

“It was Mercy, my precious daughter. Trust me, I will not let you fall.”

And even though she couldn’t understand the precise meaning of His answer, she knew enough. She knew that her memories had the ability to maim and cripple her walk upon this earth and without the touch of His grace, they would.

Only faith can produce the grace required to alter a memory deposited in the wake of a trauma. Within the touch of His grace lies the essence of a greater knowledge, a loftier hope. It is the presence of surrender to a will not your own. And in this acknowledgment of surrender, the details of memory metamorphoses into a higher calling of character. It becomes the call to grow beyond your self and be a real life touch of His grace upon the heart of someone else.


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Sara Harricharan 07/17/08
Gave me goosebumps just reading this. Powerful words here, lots of emotion and feeling. I could relate to her pain. Nicely written! ^_^
Karlene Jacobsen 07/22/08
Beautifully done! I found identifying with this person crying out to God and also finding the healing balm flow with His response.