Short Stories

---

Higher
By: Delaini Walrich

I used to do drugs. I used to see the colors dancing vividly that all the right-minded people couldn’t dream of. Or perhaps, could dream of. But I was living the rainbow. I used to inhale deeply; I used to chase pills down with whatever I could find. I used to relax in the numbness, dance in the rush and escape in the loudness yet quietness that is, altering your mind. I used to climb a ladder to the sky and make friends with the clouds. I guess a simpler, more normal way to say that is, I got high. I used to get high. It’s been awhile but today, I did. I’ve been sober for half a year but today… I got high.
This morning my devotion read: “I want you to learn a new habit. Try saying, ‘I trust You, Jesus,’ in response to whatever happens to you. Adverse circumstances become growth opportunities when you affirm your trust in Me, no matter what.” I enjoy my devotions every morning, as did I this one. But nothing particularly stood out to me about it. I carried on with my morning.
My sister and I went to the mall later on. We were hungry, as usual, so after much unnecessary debate, we decided on California Pizza Kitchen. We don’t eat there often. It’s not my favorite, but I was hungry, therefore irritable, and had a headache, so was not in the mood to argue. California Pizza Kitchen it was.
We were seated, began to browse the menu, when our server approached the table to take our drink order. He was a young guy with dark hair and a lot of tattoos. It was almost immediately obvious that he was a good server. I’ve had plenty of good and bad, so I ought to know. But other than that, nothing else stood out about him. He was rather soft-spoken and very polite, nothing out of the ordinary.
We weren’t far into our meal when I suddenly thought, very loudly to myself, that this man had a need of some sort. I consequently thought, he could use a good tip. A very good tip. “Wait, what?” I mean, his service was good, but why would he need a large tip? I don’t know. I just knew. I believe God was putting this young man on my heart. The only problem was that I had no money of my own to tip this man with. All I had was my mother’s credit card, which she’d let me borrow to pay for something else. I had just enough of my own money to pay for the meal and that’s it.
I picked up my phone and began to relay my feelings to her. At first I could tell she was unsure of how to respond. She wasn’t there herself and couldn’t assess the situation. I told her this. I told her I knew it was strange. I asked her to pray about it and once she got her answer I would drop the issue. She agreed. A few minutes passed.
As my phone chimed her answer, I anxiously flipped it over and read on my screen, “alright. How much?” Immediately, $100 popped into my head. "WHAT?!" I silently screamed back. There was no way I was going to ask my mother to tip a man she couldn’t even see 100 dollars. I stared at my phone in my hand, hesitated to type a response, as 100, 100, 100 played over and over in my mind, nudging at me. Begrudgingly, I typed “100.” Her response… She shared with me some concerns she was having and ended with, “but I was thinking $100 too.”
I sat, stunned for a moment. How could she have been thinking the exact same amount I was? The rather crazy amount, I might add, considering the circumstances. Finally she told me she agreed to it and instructed me to get cash.
I left my sister with our table and used a nearby ATM. The entire trip I felt as though I were walking on air. My heart pounded, my ears rung, my blood rushed, all in a good way. What drugs had I taken? What pills had I ingested? What had I smoked? The mall spun around me, the colors were bright and excitement pulsed through my veins. I was going to help someone. I was going to do something great, RIGHT NOW. I could have burst into song, I could have skipped through the corridors shouting and dancing, I felt amazing. I felt I’d climbed a ladder and became reacquainted with my old friends, the clouds. Doing the work of Jesus, a high like none other.
I returned to the table, jittery with excitement. My hands were shaking and I knew everyone in the restaurant had to hear how loudly my heart was beating. I didn’t know this man’s story. I didn’t know if I ever would. But I knew he needed this tip. I scribbled on a napkin, “have a blessed New Year,” left the 5 twenty-dollar bills on top of it, and exited the restaurant. I knew I must have been glowing. I surely felt it.
We didn’t get far when it occurred to me it might be a good idea to make sure I had my mother’s credit card. Such a thing had never occurred to me before. But this time it had for some reason. I unzipped my wallet and thumbed through card after card only to find her card was not there. I sat down on a nearby chair and dumped the entire contents of my purse onto the ground. Nothing. The card was not in my wallet, not in my purse, I didn’t know where it was. A million things shot through my brain. ‘My parents will never trust me again. I’m going to be in so much trouble. What kind of person took it? What damage are they going to cause?’
“I can’t find it!” I shouted helplessly to my sister. Now my heart felt as if it were going to explode in an awful way, in a terrible, deadly, heart attack sort of way.
“Well standing there isn’t going to do any good!” She snapped back at me.
I looked right; I looked left, as if the answers were somehow standing in the doorways of the shops surrounding me. I struggled to breathe. I somehow managed to get my feet to move and headed towards the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” my sister called after me.
I didn’t bother to answer.
‘Why!’ I screamed silently. ‘Why God! Why would you do this? I just did something you asked me to do, why would you punish me like this?’
I reached the closest stall and slammed the door shut.
Then in the quietness of the bathroom, of the steel door, of the tile floors, there was God. My breathing slowed. My mind slightly cleared. I shut my eyes tight and repeated quietly to myself, ‘I trust you Jesus. I trust you Jesus.’ An incredible calm washed over me. Had I taken 5 Xanax or had God just decided to hold my hand? I felt my world take a deep sigh. My teeth unclenched, my shoulders relaxed, I was renewed with confidence to face the situation. My God had this under control. I trusted Him fully.
There, my sister waited for me outside the bathroom. I approached her and with calmness lining my voice, said, “Okay. You go check back in the restaurant. I’m going to check in the lost and found… See if anybody turned it in.” She nodded her head in agreement.
As I waited by the ATM machine for a maintenance man to arrive and check inside it for the missing card, my sister called me.
“I have the card.”
‘Thank you Jesus.’
My sister and I had driven separately. On my drive home I thanked the Lord over and over and randomly, I thought about the gifts the Lord had given me. I thought about how He’d given me the ability to write. Write poems, stories, etc.
I was thinking about this as His still voice entered my ears, “Use your words to tell the world about Me.”
I spontaneously burst into tears. The Lord’s voice was so pure and undeniable, it shook me with sobs.
I cried because He is so good. I cried because I trusted Him today and I cried because I don’t trust Him enough. I cried because I used to do drugs. I used to do drugs. I never want to again. Jesus takes me higher than any pill, joint, or drink ever could.
It breaks my heart that I ever wasted any time on something other than Him. But I have the rest of my life to make up for it. To use my words to scream to the world, ‘Jesus is alive.’
I started today.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE AS A MEMBER OR VISITOR