Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of “A Bird in the Hand is Worth Two in the Bush” (without using the actual phrase or literal example). (01/10/08)
- TITLE: Reverse
By James Rouse
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I smiled slightly and inhaled the dark aroma of thick, truck stop java. â€śPart of it is faith. Part is idealism, I suppose. I think itâ€™s mostly just a sense I have at my core, in my heart, that the Bible is true. It answers so many of my questions about why the worldâ€™s how it is, why Iâ€™m how I am. It just feels right,â€ť I said lamely and sipped. Bitterness trickled over my lips making me grimace.
Tom put down his sandwich. â€śThatâ€™s whatâ€™s so difficult, you know, like I could be wasting my life believing something and then it would end up not being true. I donâ€™t want to put so much trust in something thatâ€™s way far off. I want to enjoy my life while I have it. Itâ€™s so short. After the accident, Iâ€¦I donâ€™t know,â€ť he trailed off and sighed.
â€śLife is short,â€ť I agreed eagerly, both elbows on the grimy table, â€śbut thereâ€™s more than just this life, and I guess thatâ€™s part of the appeal for me. The Bible says that what weâ€™re experiencing here, no matter how painful it is, is just a flash in the pan of our total existence.â€ť Was I helping? Somehow I doubted it, but I pressed on.
â€śWe try our best to follow Godâ€™s Word here on Earth, because we love him and because it brings meaning to our lives, but also because we live in anticipation of our future existence. We give up a little on earth, but gain a lot later.â€ť
â€śI guess I get all that,â€ť he said shoving his hands in his hoodyâ€™s pockets, â€śbut this,â€ť he looked all around him, â€śis whatâ€™s real to me. I donâ€™t think I can base my whole life on conjecture.â€ť
For some reason, I took another sip of the faux coffee. â€śI donâ€™t feel like itâ€™s just about conjecture, but that took time for me to realize. Do some research. Donâ€™t just take my word for it.â€ť I sure wouldnâ€™t. I am so not good at this, I thought reaching out my hand.
Tom grasped it like a true trucker, engulfing and clenching viciously, civilly demonstrating his earthly domination over me. I flipped some money on the table and placed the ketchup bottle over it. â€śTake care, buddy. Iâ€™ve gotta run. Really, though. Look into it. I promise youâ€™re not the first one to feel like this.â€ť Turning, I strode quietly towards the door, praying that Iâ€™d made a difference.
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