Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: River (08/31/06)
-
TITLE: The Glory You Will Never Know | Previous Challenge Entry
By Birdie Courtright
09/03/06 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
I had never witnessed such a dance of nature so eloquently entwined as that morning when the purple gray of water beckoned the rose of dawn to frolic with her in silence. One lone crane glided perfectly between the two, narrowly skimming the surface of the water. Finding solace on a protruding rock, it humbly awaited the sun’s demise of nights’ cover. With light came food.
Crane eyed me with curiosity as I dipped my toe gingerly into the wavelets that lapped against the sand, depositing the evidence of the river’s strength. Dashed shells, and a broken stump lay in a heap on the beach washed ashore during the rains a few days before. The banks echoed with quiet stories of the river’s fury.
She offered the gift of life to those who settled near by, inspiring the cycles of nature to flourish at her edge. We dragged our nets for fish, and our families gave thanks for God’s abundant provision from the sweet deep waters. Here, the doe drinks warily while the wolf lies in wait. We should’ve taken better note of that; the unseemly snare of death that stalks the banks in silence—entreating all with the lure of gilded bounty, then seizing whatever it desires.
So it was that morning when the rains began. She quivered as though waking from a peaceful dream. How were we to know that we perched on the edge of a deadly interplay of God and His creation? As she rose from her stormy bed, we scrambled to make sense of it all, moving with quick determination to escape the wrath of the river as she joined the melody of the tempest. Higher ground, we thought; we’ll be safe on higher ground.
Little did we know that miles upstream our fate had been sealed as the melt gave way to the warming touch of spring. The mountain peaks jeered at us as we attempted to climb to safety. How frail we were against the might of God; how powerless to avoid His hand as He swooped down from His throne to pluck the righteous from His earth that morning. She was but His willing muse, the peaceful river, displaying the power of God in one glorious crescendo. As the wall of water swept over us, we gave no thought to anything but Heaven.
I alone survived, beaten and crushed and thrown from her hand as though unworthy to join the elegant parade of God’s eternal sovereignty. Who knows how long I lay broken on the sand, like rubbish—perhaps the token of her disdain for the fragility of man. Days at her edge held no meaning for me. Everything I was she deftly plucked from me and I begged her to claim what was left. She silently ignored my pleas—as did God. Not even wolf approached to put an end to my misery.
I slipped beneath her surface, her chilly grasp almost more than I could bear. If God would not take me, then the river would surely offer her condolences by receiving the mud and dried blood from my skin. Morning upon morning I’d waited for the courage to taste the waters that stole my life. Crane seemed to approve of my decision to make my peace with her, flapping his massive wings as if entreating the river to heal me. If ever I was to give thanks again, I knew what I must do.
I released the terror of that morning when she laid claim to our settlement with a piercing scream, splitting her facade of tranquility. Crane took to the air, as the river received my rage. My tears were now a part of her she could not give up. I intentionally stained her placid waters with my grief, thinking somehow to leave my mark on her, as she’d indelibly left hers upon me. There, in her midst I impugned her power against me, crying out to her architect for mercy.
I was rescued days later, by a band of settlers downstream who’d set out to look for survivors.
“One day the heavens will open for me; this gift bestowed on fragile men, is Glory you will never know” I reminded her, as I lifted my heart in thanksgiving.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
You have a knack of using words in unusual ways. At first, some of these made me say 'Oh, that's not appropriate, surely?' but a moment later I realised it was appropriate at about three layers deeper in meaning. In fact, just like the words of poems behave.
Anyway, it's not a descriptive piece - stuff happens! But the action is joined to the description seamlessly, as though this tragic event were actually part of the painted scene, which in a way was your intention. For everything that happened was part of everything that WAS, ie God's rule. The crane, a lovely, natural observer, and the river (female, interestingly, despite its violence)and the settlement, and the storm, the wolf and doe, and you, are all part of the same Creation. Each playing its part, with the river as God's muse at one point, which is one of those words that made me jump.
There are so many 'right' words and phrases that I can't list them all. No, I've just looked again and there's something in nearly every sentence that I'd like to quote - so you'll have to believe me!
Possibly your use of 'demise' as a verb is a stretch too far? I don't think one can 'demise something'. 'the sun's demise of night's cover' reads as 'the sun's death of night's cover' for that's what demise is, a noun. But I'll allow it in gratitude for all the stretched words that were weird but legitimate! In a poem, okay, but maybe too much in poetic prose. But maybe not!
The tears into the river has to be mentioned for it was a very powerful image and the scream was excellent too. In fact you maintained the standard right to the end, which is hard to do with that kind of piece.
One doubt I have. Your point about the frail human being allowed into heaven, as a kind of 'one over the powerful river' is at first reading a telling blow, but on further thought, isn't ALL creation meant to be redeemed and renewed? After all, there is a river running down the middle of the street in the new Jerusalem in Revelation, so maybe your note of triumphalism, though natural in one who has suffered so much at the hands of the river, should be replaced by a more forgiving note of reconciliation, in which you (the story 'you' I mean) acknowledge that in the renewed creation river and settlement will live in peace side by side, as will the wolf and the doe, the lion and the lamb. I think such an ending would gel with the holistic tone of the rest of the piece and bring more healing to the heart of the reader. Anyway, think about it - whatever, it's a brilliant article and I thank you for it.