Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: SPRING (09/03/20)
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TITLE: Newness of Life | Previous Challenge Entry
By Tana Craig
09/09/20 -
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My new husband, "Bob," and I lived in a converted woodshed, next to a railroad track; twelve dollars per week, all utilities included. To get in, we had to walk across a cement bridge over a fish pond built of boulders and cement.
Ivy covered the chicken wire and black tar-paper exterior construction of our furnished rental. The interior was one room with a lean-to bathroom off the back end. That room, small enough for you to sit on the toilet and paint the entire room, housed a shower, toilet, sink, and the only tiny closet. It was a studio apartment with a divider wall separating the 3' x 6' kitchen from the front room, bedroom, dining room combination. The kitchen had a large cupboard on the separating wall; only 3" deep, but it was handy for spices. For eighteen months, until we could afford a sleeper sofa, the two of us slept in a single army bed.
But this was Southern California, and the weather was sublime; I was young and thought things would improve. Out past the fishpond, it was pleasant, the front yard alive with talkative birds, flowers, and mature trees in full bloom. It was Spring, with a capital "S." And I wrote:
IT'S SPRING-ING
Yesterday the trees were bare,
This morning there were blossoms there.
Yesterday the birds were gone,
Today a robin hopped across the lawn.
And yesterday, I had no song to sing -
But that was long ago,
Today it's Spring.
I wrote this poem after experiencing my husband's first blackout drunk.
Eyes glazed, lips pulled back in a rictus of rage, he came at me, roaring: AARGH! I was out the door faster than Wonder Woman, in my nightie and robe. In the pitch black of night, losing track of the walkway, my foot hit rocks. I fell, 'rear end over tea kettle,' into the fishpond. Hours later, cold and straggly as a stray cat, I crept back inside. Blood ran down my leg.
Remembering nothing of the previous night's attack, Bob laughed when I told him what he had done. "You can't blame me for what I don't remember," he said, still amused. When he recounted the incident to others, making it sound hilarious, there were lots of laughs at my expense, but I wasn't laughing inside. I was ashamed.
Deep denial, shame, and insecurity defined my marriage. My earnings as receptionist/cashier for a car dealership were too meager to support me. I had never been physically intimate with a man before; that part was good. I kept my head in the sand, living in fantasy land. Growing up, my Dad's unpredictable behavior when drinking disturbed me. But he had been affectionate with Mom, NEVER hit her, or embarrassed her. What was wrong with me?
I had turned my back on God, but He still had His eyes on me. Sixteen years passed before I returned to God. But the LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abundant in love, which drew me back to Him. Jesus' Holy Spirit filled me and gave me wisdom, peace, and protection. It was Spring again; I was in love with my Creator. I wrote:
Perspective
Vapor rising off the newly blossomed trees
drifts into a sunny, morning sky,
contrasting sharply to rain darkened branches.
A drop of leftover rainwater slips slowly down
a newborn leaf.
Captured, glinting brightly in the early sun,
it flashes the full rainbow spectrum,
then drops from sight and memory to the ground.
My soul begins to stir and warm in the spring air.
My roots go deep into the earth;
I cling tenaciously to life.
Then God whispers in my ear,
"Heaven's better."
I Smile as I read Spring poems written at two different times in my life, once when I wasn't following God, and once when I was. Jesus promises Joy to His followers now, and Heaven later, where Spring will come on forever.
As it is written, "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him." 1Cor.2:9NKJV
Non-fiction
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