Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Pastor (11/30/06)
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TITLE: Wishes Written in Time | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jacqueline Zerres
12/07/06 -
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He stood at the front of the empty country church, his arm around his wife’s tiny waist. “Can you see it, Jen?” With his free arm, he made a great sweeping gesture. “Imagine every seat full. Jesus said to go out into the highways and byways and compel them to come in. We’ll have evangelistic outreaches; knock on doors if we have to. People will get saved and be on fire for Jesus.”
Jennie’s eyes glistened. A tiny tear fell and she brushed it away.
His smile broke out, a dimple creasing one cheek.
“Oh, Howie, I’m so proud of you.” She threw eager arms around him.
“Happy Birthday. What will you wish for?”
His buried his face in the curve of her neck. “To do great things for God.”
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The old recliner creaked when Howie leaned forward. His elbow rested on the leather arm and his thumb and finger cupped his chin, watching his kids play.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Jen said.
“I can’t believe it’s been ten years. It sure hasn’t turned out the way I planned.”
“Don’t be a sourpuss. It’s your birthday. Besides, look at what you’ve accomplished. We’ve got some great programs. The building fund is growing. The church board is happy.”
“You’re right.” He pulled her onto his lap, patting the bulge in her tummy that would become their third child. “God has blessed us. The church is full every Sunday; we’re popping at the seams. Life couldn’t be better.” He managed a weak smile.
Jennie got up and pulled him to his feet. “C’mon, Hon, the kids are waiting to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.”
“You know what I wish, Jen? I wish I had the old fire back.”
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“Now, Mrs. Johnson, have just a little piece,” Howie said. “No worrying about calories today. It’s not every year a man turns fifty-five.” He handed the smiling woman a slice of double fudge cake.
Jennie brushed back a strand of graying hair at her husband’s temple. She whispered in his ear. “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.”
“Yeah, Happy Birthday, Dad; you’re looking good.”
“Thanks, son. Tell me; are you glad that you followed in your old man’s footsteps?”
“No regrets. Wait ‘til you hear about my plans; I want to do so much for the Lord, Dad.”
Howie smiled, a faraway expression on his face.
From behind him, a pair of hands covered his eyes. “Surprise!”
“Gracie.” He swung around. “You’re home from school.”
“Yep, couldn’t miss my daddy’s birthday. I left right from chapel this morning. Sorry I missed the blowing out of the candles. “Did you make a wish, yet?”
“I wish your sister was home on furlough from Africa.”
“You can’t wish that; she has another year,” Gracie said.
“Make another wish, Hon.”
With a thankful heart, Howie surveyed the room filled with God’s people. How he had grown to love them.
“Wisdom.” He raised misty eyes heavenward. “Much wisdom.”
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Flowers and baskets of fruit covered every surface of the crowded hospital room. Gathered around his bedside, his family talked in whispers.
“Do you think he could hear us, Mama?” Gracie held her mother’s wrinkled hand.
“I don’t know, Dear. He’s been in and out of consciousness.”
Howie’s son and grandson stood at the side of the bed.
“Listen to this, Grandma.” Plucking one of the cards attached to a generous arrangement of daisies, he read, ‘Dear Pastor Howie, Thanks for leading me to Jesus. Eternally grateful, Sam’.”
One by one, his family leafed through heartfelt messages, written to convey thoughts to a much loved shepherd and friend.
They grew quiet.
“Not much of a birthday party, is it, Mama?” The untouched cake sat on the bed tray, the candlewicks blackened.
“He didn’t even have enough strength to blow them out,” Jennie said.
“Did Dad make any last wishes?”
“To finish well. That’s all he wanted.”
The old pastor stirred and opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on something they couldn’t see.
“Jesus…”
“Jesus?” Jennie asked.
“He’s saying...” Howie smiled faintly, the dimple nondescript in the age-worn face.
“What’s he saying, Hon?” She bent lower to catch his words.
Howie’s face was peaceful when she finally pulled away.
“What did he say, Mama? What did Jesus say?”
A tear trickled down Jennie’s cheek as she kissed the now still brow.
She looked at her children, their faces wet.
“Jesus said… ‘You finished, Howie. Well Done’.”
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I enjoyed the sections better that had less dialog and more description; they just seemed better balanced.
This is very tender and well-written.