A Little Help From My Friends | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: A Little Help From My Friends | Previous Challenge Entry
By Cindy Duncan
02/04/16
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I traveled. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. My very existence depended on it. The day they stopped me from traveling was the day that I died.

I said they, because I could not travel alone. I was totally dependent on others to move me from one place to another. Some did it willingly, like sweet little Mrs. Smith. She’d been a widow for twelve years, and she had nothing better to do, really, than to move me around. I made her feel special, important, and needed. She took me everywhere.

Then there was Mr. Jones. He acted like I disgusted him, for some said I was ugly, yet still, he helped me. He would sometimes take me to work with him, leaving me with his coworkers, who more often than not volunteered to take me home with them.

Funny thing is, traveling changed me. Sometimes at the end of a long journey I was completely different than I was when it started. It didn’t really matter, though, because the more I changed, the more people wanted to take me with them.

When I think about it, pretty much everyone at the Shady Lane Baptist Church helped me travel. Sure, sometimes it took a while to get from one place to another, but other times it seemed like I was moving at the speed of light. I arrived so quickly one time that my recipient exclaimed, “Wow, where did that come from?” Then their surprise waned, and they immediately took me to their neighbor’s house.

Yes, those were good days for me at Shady Lane. I was able to visit almost every member’s house, and some of them helped me go all over town. There were a few who sent me across the country, and even one who took me with them when they visited family overseas.

I feel like I helped Jennifer and Faith. They were best friends who spent an awful lot of time together. After Faith took me to visit one of the other teenagers, her friendship with Jennifer was never the same. I think they probably spent too much time together anyway. I just gave them the opportunity to branch out and have different friends.

I wanted people to pray for each other. Without me, how would they have known who needed their prayers? I wanted them to feel better about themselves, too. When they carried me to others, they stood a little taller, and spoke with more authority. Knowledge brings confidence, you know? I was all about educating the people; it was what I did.

Anyway, my time with the folks at Shady Lane came to an end the week of spring revival. There were services every night of the week. By the time Friday night came around, I was getting nervous. The visiting preacher spoke about me. He told the people I was dangerous, and that I needed to die. He called me gossip, and my buddies he called talebearers and backbiters. I started to think about how this would affect my travel plans.

Then people began to go to the altar. Old Mrs. Smith leaned on her cane with each step as she made her way down the aisle. By the time she reached the front, she was crying and shaking. Then Jennifer went over and hugged Faith, and they both went to the altar and prayed. One by one, all my travel buddies went down, and I started feeling sick.

In the days that followed, I tried to convince my friends to take me somewhere, anywhere, but they all refused. That sermon might have helped them, but it killed me.

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