Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: DISGUISE (08/12/21)
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TITLE: A Word of Warning | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marilyn Borga
08/19/21 -
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I knew the ditty, “Leaflets three, let it be.” Had known how to recognize the noxious weed since I was knee-high to a nanny goat. I knew. My cousins knew. But we got caught up in the moment and failed to see the danger.
Oh, we’d had such a grand time playing in the creek on that hot August day! We had broken off sticks to dig in the sand and divert the shallow water into tiny pools. We caught tadpoles and minnows in canning jars and collected pretty stones. We laughed and splashed one another while we invented stories of pirates and riverboat adventures. Whenever we grew hungry we’d push our way through the thick vegetation to run to the house and grab a snack from Grandma’s cookie jar. By the time those telltale bumps began to pop out on all of us, it was too late.
Three days later, I lay in bed in my grandmother’s sweltering spare bedroom. My face was puffy and my eyes were nearly swollen shut. Festering red blisters were scattered over my arms and legs like mini-mountain ranges. I was slathered in the grayish-pink goop that only temporarily lessened the itching. I lay spread-eagle on the bed, trying to be still. Movement caused sweating and the salty sweat triggered the urge to scratch. I was too uncomfortable to sleep and too miserable to do anything else.
My bodily misery was matched only by the bitter reality that I was missing several precious days of fun with my cousins. Summer was rushing to an end. We’d soon be leaving for home and I wouldn’t get to return to my grandparents’ farm until school ended the next spring.
It’s too bad that poison ivy doesn’t come preprinted with skull and crossbones on its glossy leaves or wrapped in yellow caution tape to distinguish it from the harmless Virginia creeper. It would have saved me a lot of grief.
As an adult, I’ve rarely caught a case of poison ivy. But then, I no longer spend much time wading in shallow water and exploring creek banks. I usually stay on the well-known paths. Whenever I weed an overgrown flower bed, I protect myself with gloves and long sleeves. And I keep a sharp eye out for suspicious-looking vines.
The Bible calls Satan the father of lies. He’s like the poison ivy vine that camouflages itself in the dense greenery. He poses as an angel of light while he’s whispering in your ears.
“It’ll be fun,” he says. (But it may only be fun for a little while.)
“You can stop any time.” (But you may not be able to stop.)
“No one will know.” (But God will know.)
How many times have lies like these led to pain and sorrow? How many times have we let the evil one poison our relationships with those we hold most dear, even with Christ himself? Too many.
So I have a word of warning for my young Christian friends, a new ditty to remember: “Satan’s snare, leave it there!” Protect yourself from his insidious, poisonous ways. Stay on the narrow path. Learn to recognize the true Light by immersing yourself in God’s word. Draw close to Him in prayer and He will show you the hidden dangers. The end is drawing near. We don’t know how much time is left.
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Your entry fits the topic.
Even knowing the warning signs, we get distracted or fall for a lie and fall.
Lesson learned protect yourself as you learned when you weed your garden. The gear is like the Bible. It’s there but if you don’t use it you can get into trouble.
Good piece of work and I enjoyed it,
Thank you