Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Missionary (10/19/06)
- TITLE: Fuzzy Ambitions
By Stephanie Bullard
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“I’m going to be a missionary!” he thought.
He rubbed his hands together against the cold of the blustery winter wind, blowing warm breath through the hollow of his palms.
“I’m going to have to raise support,” he thought.
“Hey Travis, we’re looking for someone to volunteer to help with the Salvation Army coin drive. Would you mind dressing up as Santa Clause and ringing a bell?”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’m busy. I’m going to be a missionary.”
Spring flowers popped, spilling their colors across the soggy April ground and scattering a myriad of potpourri through the air.
“I need to get out there, let the church see me and know that I’m interested in this ministry,” he thought.
“Hi, Travis. We need some people to help out with the Easter Presentation. Are you at all interested?”
“Sorry, I wish I could. But I’m really busy, you know. I’m going to be a missionary.”
Summer splashed heat across the damp foreheads of carefree kids. Their laughter bounced off the curbs and echoed through the streets.
“I want to do something with children; they’re the future after all,” he thought.
“Travis, I’m glad I ran into you. We’re really short staffed with our Vacation Bible School workers. Could you possibly help out?”
“You know I’d love to. Really, but I’m just too busy. I’m going to be a missionary.”
Leftover Jack-O-Lanterns grinned wimpy, lopsided grins at him through brown mush-teeth. Orange and red leaves danced in the wind while the skeletal remains of others skittered noisily across the pavement. A paper turkey stood proudly in the window of a nearby shop.
“I’m so thankful that I’m going to be able to give back to others in humanity,” he thought.
“Oh, Travis. Can we count on your help in the Soup Kitchen this Thanksgiving?”
“If only I could. But I’m so busy, it’s just not possible. I’m going to be a missionary.”
He didn’t see the patch of black ice. Without warning his car was spinning, his world tilting, his vision fading. He awoke to the methodical beeping of mysterious machines and the incomprehensible news that he would never be able to walk again. Tears filled his eyes, rage flooded his chest.
“Why God?! Why?! I was going to be a missionary! I was going to do it for you! You never even gave me a chance!”
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