Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: FEATHER (08/20/20)
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TITLE: Who Waits | Previous Challenge Entry
By Debra Brand
08/27/20 -
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I went in once.
On the front stoop were remnants of dried droppings from pigeons. Puddles of water lay in the hollows carved by the many footsteps over the decades. The old bluestone step hadn’t been swept by the caretaker and the deadheads in the flower beds bent to the ground, tended only by birds and chipmunks.
I inserted the old skeleton key into the lock and the knob turned with a rusty squeak. The sunlight entered bouncing off the disturbed dust particles floating in the dead air. Worn weary flooring creaked and groaned under my weight as I entered the hallowed hall. And the smell of … old memories flooded my mind.
A sudden movement above the altar brought me out of my reverie. Drifting from the ceiling was filmy white down as if a greeting from heaven above said, ‘Welcome back.’ But it must have been where a dove roosted some time in the past.
Noticing the winding staircase to the bell tower, I ascended through cobwebs to see the view of the town. The bell had been removed to the library for posterity purposes. My eyes rested on a little table. Evidence of bread and plumage lay on its surface. Did someone come up here to feed the birds? A quill pen lay on the dirty floor as if discarded by an old pastor who had given up on himself, his congregation, and … God.
“Hello?” a shaky voice called from below. “Who is there?”
I returned down the flight of stairs to see who had come inside. There stood a wizened old woman, bent forward resting on her cane. A whitened head twisted sideways to peer at me in the dusky light.
“Who are you?” she asked again. Her brilliant blue eyes caught the remnants of dust and wispy down sticking to my black coat. “You’ll need to brush that off before you preach.”
Surprised, I answered, “I’m not here to preach. This church hasn’t had a service in a long time.”
“1999. It was June of 1999. We’ve been expecting you.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” I decided it best to humor her.
“’We’ are the overseers of this property. Our prayers have gone unanswered but now you’ve come.”
“I don’t think you understand. I own the deed and traveled to discover what options are available. Maybe I should tear it down?”
“Oh, that would be a travesty. Anyway, it’s impossible.” She replied.
“Nothing is impossible, even today. I have plans for this property and it needs to be brought up to date with … maybe a shopping center or a movie theater … something to bring life to this dead town.”
“Oh, heavens, you can’t do that!” Despair entered her voice at the thought of this once vibrant sanctuary ending up as secular entertainment.
“I don’t believe you.” She came close to me, her cornflower blue eyes peered into mine piercing the veil of mystery. She pointed a gnarled finger at me. “I think I know who you are.”
“Who am I?”
“You are the Spirit who left us. Our prayers brought You back. For Your Word says, ‘He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.’ Are you here to restore or discard?”
“I Am He who has heard your prayers, seen your tears, and knows your heart. With my Spirit, this church will rise again.”
The old woman sighed, at peace at last.
“Like an eagle that stirs up its nest that hovers over its young, He spread His wings and caught them. He carried them on His pinions.
Ps. 91:4 NASB
Deut. 32:11 NASB
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Nicely done.
Blessings~
Blessings~