Home Read What's New Join
My Account Login

Read Our Devotional             2016 Opportunities to be Published             Detailed Navigation

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge



how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level


submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners

Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.



how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of “A Stitch in Time Saves Nine” (without using the actual phrase or literal example). (01/03/08)

TITLE: A Stain From HerTears
By Rita Garcia


If I had known what the future held, would I have taken a different stance? Would I have been so quick to cut off contact with my only sister? A sister I had laughed with, played with and grown up with? We were often mistaken for twins: We both had golden blond hair and, if I do say so myself, the looks to go with it. I admit we had our share of rivalry, but when Dooley came on the scene it became more than a fun competition. It was war.

My sister Shelly was two months away from graduating and I was a junior in high school when Dooley moved into our neighborhood. In our small town, people never stayed strangers for long. Shelly and I both became friends with Dooley and the games began.

“No, you’re not asking Dooley to the senior prom. I told you last week I want to ask him to the junior prom.” I glared at my sister.

Shelly laughed. “Well, little Sis, that’s just too bad. I already asked him.”

“How could you? That’s so … so unfair. He won’t go.” I felt tears fill my eyes.

“Guess what, Barb? He already said yes.” Shelly glowed with triumph.

“I will never speak to you again; you’re not my sister.” I ran up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door.

I realize it sounds silly and immature, but I never spoke to Shelly again. I stayed away from her. In my defense, it didn’t help that Shelly and Dooley became inseparable. My parents saw no reason to excuse me from dinner just because Dooley was there with Shelly. I did the next best thing and ignored them. Four months later, Shelly left for college.

Of course, Shelly came home on weekends and vacations, but I kept my distance. There were times she tried to strike up a conversation with me, but I turned away. The following year I was off to college. Sadly, I avoided going home, making up one excuse after another. I held on and nourished my resentment.

In my second year of college I received a letter. I knew at once it was from Shelly from the distinctive way she wrote Barbara on the envelope. I ripped it opened.

“Barb, please forgive me.” The words seemed to move on the page.

That’s all I read before tossing it in a drawer, I didn’t know at the time how it would come back to haunt me. The only thing I was thinking was that I would never … never forgive her.

The following summer my mom called. “Barb, I have some bad news.”

“What’s wrong, Mom. Did something happen to Dad?”

“No honey, it’s Shelly.”

“Why are you calling me about her?”

“Barbara, listen to me: Your sister was in an accident.”

“So?” I said.

“Barb, she’s … Shelly didn’t survive the accident.”

“What are you saying, Mom?” I was frozen with fear.

“Shelly’s … she’s gone, Barb. She died this morning.”

I was devastated. I didn’t even go home for the funeral. I was no longer driven by my anger. My anger was replaced by self-abhorrence. I ran to the drawer and found Shelly’s letter.

“Barb, please forgive me. I really need you to listen to me. I’m sorry that this thing has come between us. There is something else I want you to know. Dooley asked me to marry him, and I said yes. I wish more than anything else in the world that you would be my maid-of-honor, Barb, you’re my only sister. I love you. I want you at my wedding. Please, Barb, I beg you, be my sister again.” I rubbed my finger across what I knew was a stain from her tears.

Now, twenty years later, I drove through the gates of the cemetery. I went inside the office and asked for directions to Shelly Harrison’s grave. I followed the winding path and turned where the small map indicated. I counted the rows and finally I saw the sculpture of an angel and somehow knew that was it.

I sat on the damp grass and the tears spilled down my face and onto my jacket. How could I have been so spiteful? If only I had talked to my sister, if only I had answered her letter, if only I had asked her to forgive me.

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.

This article has been read 741 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Joanne Sher 01/10/08
Tissue alert! This one got me in so many ways, at so many levels. It's truly amazing how pettiness can cause us to pay such a price. Very well-written.
Laury Hubrich 01/10/08
Yes, this is a tear-jerker. Very good writing. I felt the pain of both sisters. I like how you went back and let us read the rest of the letter. Nice touch...
Sara Harricharan 01/10/08
WOW! The pain and the emotion here. I can identify with both sisters so much. It's amazing, the way the story played out. I didn't expect her to die, though I guessed that Dooley would ask her to marry him. Great job here.
darlene hight01/10/08
LauraLee Shaw01/13/08
Powerful lesson packed into this passionate piece. If this testimony is true, I hope the sister who is alive has felt the restoring peace, forgiveness and power that comes from Jesus Christ.
Marilyn Schnepp 01/15/08
I do so hope this is fiction! I cried. This is a perfect example of our topic this week...but so sad. Great writing, and a real tear-jerker.
Dee Yoder 01/15/08
I can't think of a worse way to learn this lesson. It makes a person stop and think about how often we close people out of our lives, and how we should offer forgiveness while we can.