Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: TRUST (07/21/16)
- TITLE: A Spinning Tale
By Jennifer Woodley
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Sometimes no words come. Writer’s block. The mind is as barren as the wilderness of Paran. Like a place devoid of promising life, the mind is devoid of promising thoughts. And just like the Israelites who wandered in a never ending spiral of unknowing, the writer goes around in circles searching for words that might shed light on where they are heading. Every writer is familiar with the situation, every writer is familiar with the panic – especially if there is a deadline to meet. Panic happens when it has to be done now, trust happens when the writer waits for God. The writer needs to trust. I needed to trust. “But God,” I pleaded, “just remember that the competition closes in two days!”
Taking stock, I had a much needed talk to myself. “Was I a writer? Had I been blessed with the gift of writing? Could I name just one time that God had not come through? Did I really think that He given up on helping me this time? And so I fortified myself in the belief that God has not deserted me and would indeed provide in His way, in His time.
The phone rang, slicing through my prayerful meditation. It was my aunty. “Hi,” her lighthearted welcome lifted my serious reverie. “What are you doing right now?” she asked.
“Searching for inspiration” I answered. “I have a writing deadline for a children’s literary competition and nothing is coming my way just now. But, I’m going to wait quietly and trust God.”
“I have something you might be interested in. Call by when you like, we can have a coffee together” she invited.
I didn’t hesitate – the change of scenery might be just what I needed. I wondered what was so pressing that she wanted me to see. Jill had recently bought a loom, perhaps she wanted to show off her new purchase and her first humble efforts.
Turning into the gravel driveway, I was immediately captivated by my aunt’s front garden. It was bursting with color. A multitude of various sized, bright crimson toadstools sat placidly on her luscious green lawn. I was enthralled. My childlike nature switched into gear as I crept closer, careful not to disturb the life living in the fantasy-world beneath them. Every toadstool was covered with pure white dots, slightly raised on the top of each crimson umbrella-shaped roof. Without even thinking I whispered, “I wonder who lives beneath them?”
Jill turned to me and smiled. Quietly, so as not to disturb the inhabitants, I thought, she said, “Perhaps you could write about them.” And that night I did. Even now I reflect upon the surprising provision of God. Provision that comes in the form of creative words, when the writer learns to trust. This piece came to me at half past three, when all was quiet and still; a little rhyme to pass the time, about my aunty Jill.
There’s a fairy in my aunt’s front garden,
I’ve seen her there before,
She sits among the toadstools,
It is no lie nor ‘lore.
You may wonder what she’s doing,
Sitting quietly on her own,
So I crept a little closer,
To spy her in her home.
She’s spinning silver cobwebs,
As fine as fine can be,
She’s so busy at her wheel and spindle,
She never noticed me.
She hums and sings, the hours pass by,
She seems contented at her task,
But curiosity got the better of me,
And so I had to ask.
“Pretty fairy who are you spinning for,
Sitting alone in your toadstool room?”
“Why I’m spinning for my dear friend Jilly,
To weave garments on her loom.”
“What a splendid idea!” I answered back,
And then she invited me,
To sit under her toadstool,
To spin and sip warm tea.
We spun and sipped all day long,
And gorged upon fairy cake,
But then the sun dipped in the west,
A homeward path I had to take.
We parted the very best of friends,
She invited me to return,
Whenever the desire to spin and sip,
I did passionately yearn.
And when the soft night is falling,
When all is quiet and still,
I dream of the spinning fairy,
And it gives me a wonderful thrill.
Trust God for the words, trust God with the outcome. Know nothing and expect anything.
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