Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of “All that Glitters is Not Gold” (without using the actual phrase or literal example). (01/24/08)
By Hanne Moon
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Iâ€™ve never been lucky before. I donâ€™t guess my life was really bad, itâ€™s just Iâ€™ve always felt like background noise. Iâ€™ve never felt like anyone really loved me. My granny did, but she died several years ago. I was the middle child, and it seemed that I was easy to overlook.
And then one day I met Marsha, and she and I became friends. She told me about Father, and her â€śfamilyâ€ť, and how Father loved them all so much. Just once I wanted to be loved like that, to feel as special as Marsha felt.
I started going to services at Heavenâ€™s Temple. It was kind of weird. It wasnâ€™t really a church, like granny used to take me to. It was more of a community, where everyone lived together. When I first met Father, the thing I noticed was his gentle smile, and the kindness in his eyes. He sat down with me and asked about my friends, my family and how I was doing in school. He looked at me when I talked.
I wanted to cry right there. I never wanted to leave
It wouldâ€™ve been nice if daddy had put down the evening paper just once to ask about my new friend, or if momma would have slowed down just a little and expressed an interest in what I was doing. Neither of them noticed, and I felt myself drawing away from them little by little.
Then one day Marsha invited me to spend the weekend with her at the temple. Mom and dad didnâ€™t even ask who Marsha was when I told them. I guess they figured I was 17, and grown up enough to take care of myself.
That night Marsha told me that Father thought very highly of me. He said I had a wonderful mind for spiritual things and that I would be a welcome addition to their community.
I never went home to pack my clothes.
Father has made it a point to see to it that Iâ€™m completely educated in the ways of our faith. Sometimes after services heâ€™ll take me off to the side and sit with me, his arm around my shoulder as he talks about the revelations and insights heâ€™s receiving from God.
Everyone tells me how lucky I am to have Fatherâ€™s undivided attention. Lately, however, Iâ€™ve become somewhat unsettled in Fatherâ€™s presence. Donâ€™t misunderstand â€“ he has never hurt me. Iâ€™m just not sure whatâ€™s expected of me.
Or I donâ€™t want to take that thought to its logical conclusion.
When Marsha came to me this morning and said that Father wanted to see me this evening, I wasnâ€™t entirely surprised. She told me that Father thought it was time I was fully brought into the community.
â€śDo you know how lucky you are?â€ť she said. I should have been grateful, but I was only terrified.
Now as I put on the dress, I feel icy fingers of fear tap dancing up and down my spine. I canâ€™t stop shaking. Iâ€™ve burnt all my bridges with my past, and thereâ€™s no where to go. I feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter when Marsha comes to get me.
Father opens the door to his room. He runs his eyes up and down the dress, appraising me. He smiles and holds out his hand. I take it, mine ice cold in his.
â€śDo you know how lucky you are to be a part of this work Iâ€™m doing?â€ť he asks as he shuts the door behind him.
Funny, I donâ€™t feel lucky.
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