The yellow dress was waiting for her. Clinging to the shop model in splashes of golden sunshine. Could it be? Could it really be that the Lord cared that much?
Scarlett made her way along the track she called her ‘Speak to Me Way’. In the early days following her husband’s death she’d trudged back and forth, finding comfort in the only One who could help her. “Speak to me Lord” she would cry. And He did.
Though many times the track took a hammering; before her heart grew quiet enough to hear the still small Voice. He never once spoke into the whirlwind of her soul.
Seven years ago Lord, Scarlet mused as she sauntered through the dips and turns and paddocks of straw-coloured grass that would turn to fields of gold in about- she looked towards the rising sun- in about five minutes. Should she increasing her pace? Part of the glory of the walk was plunging into the pre-dawn mist laden gully that was her journey’s end; her prayer closet.
Overnight, pools of moist air replenished the heat stricken gums and stringy barks. And the trees, with grateful sigh, exhaled the eucalypt ‘breath of Australia’. It is worth hurrying towards.
But Scarlett instinctively slowed. Be still and know that I am God. (Ps 46:10 NLT)
“Phhh-whittt”. She whistled the dog as he careered off in pursuit of a wallaby. “Please Lord; keep him off that nearby road. He’s a mischief; all eighteen inches of him”.
Today however, the dog obeyed and Scarlett laughed as a black nose then a black tail bobbed in alternate dips, fighting his way back through the tall grass.
“Bad dog.” She bent to tap his snout.
Scarlet swung towards the voice.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m lost. When I saw your dog and heard you whistle I decided to follow”
The dog wagged his tail. .Two-legged interlopers were tolerable.
“Does he bite?”
“Only Wallies”. Scarlett wanted to slap her hand over her mouth. Oh Lord forgive me. We should be kind to strangers. Will I ever tame my tongue?
But the stranger threw back his head and laughed. A deep throated laugh that assured Scarlett he knew a Wally was not a wallaby.
Scarlet studied him surreptitiously. Six feet tall maybe; well built and wore nice clean joggers. His hair? More salt than pepper; but the only lines on his face appeared to be gathered around his laughing brown eyes.
He’s married. Scarlett nodded inwardly. Anyway what was she staring at? Since Bruce’s death she’d never once looked at a male with interest “I’m quite ridiculous. Please Lord, get me out of here”.
“Does that street there lead back into town? I’m just here for the weekend and couldn’t resist a jog in the misty air. Plus there’s such a golden tint to the morning light. I’m a sucker for yellow light.”
Scarlett was inclined to agree. But said nothing.
“Perhaps I’ll start again. Does the dog bite?”
The man was enjoying himself.
“No—no you want to get back into town.” Scarlett frowned. “Sorry, I’m being a Wally”. She closed her eyes. I cannot believe I said that!
“F-follow the road left,right,left; it will take you back to town”. To the sane people. “Good morning.” Scarlett turned and hurried away.
Safe beneath her canopy of trees Scarlett dared breathe again. The magpies were beginning their ritual waking song. She listened. Bird call; roll call. Present and correct; sing unto the Lord a new song. Scarlett lifted her hands to join in.
And peace like a river flowed into her heart.
An hour later she felt to head home. Her son David’s wedding was in a few weeks and today she must search for an outfit. My Lord I’m leaving You in charge of the dress. If Bruce was alive I’d drag him along.
Then she was meeting David’s future in-laws for lunch. Outlaws? She laughed at her own joke. Not so. They’d done so well with Katie, her son’s fiancée. Besides, they loved the Saviour. She was however, curious about the old bachelor uncle who would be at the lunch. He was a pastor and would perform the marriage ceremony. Scarlett sensed a battle if he turned Pharisaic
“Mum I’d like you to meet Katie’s parents Ruth and Jerry. And this is…”
Laughing brown eyes met her gaze. He held out his hand.
“Adam. Although I have sometimes been called Wally.”
(747 words—excluding Bible reference)
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