Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SELF-CONTROL (12/09/21)
-
TITLE: The Right Time | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
12/15/21 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Two dozen full moons have come and gone as I watched for her to flower – but not like this. Tongues already wag and frowning eyes burn in my direction. “Why couldn’t he wait?”
The second paper unrolls in my shaking hands. It is the only way to restore reputation and rights. Confusion roils like tumbling rapids through my soul. How do you trust the impossible? I lay the pen down and allow the missive to roll up on itself again.
A walk among the stars only increases the pangs inside. If Abraham had been promised seed without number, why should I be deprived in this moment? Her three-month absence had helped the self-control but what point is there in embracing a burning coal to stop a forest fire if the flames arise from another source?
An angel? How much can one believe when the evidence waddles in front of you? I pick up the hammer and chisel. Another block of basalt rock to frame a corner? This would have been our home – our room, our love-nest. Have I labored for nothing?
I reach for the first scroll – the ketubah – our love contract. Yes, there are the promises. My signature is clear. I have kept my vows from first to last. I have withheld nothing except myself – watching and waiting, knowing that the faster I built the faster we would be together.
What matters more? My rightness or my relationship? My reputation with the community or my reputation with the one whose tears plead for my confession of commitment. How do I shelter a heart that is shattered? How do I gather what is gone?
How can I sleep when I can hardly breathe? My hopes tumble away with the leaves before the wind. What is justice in this moment? To enact my vengeance, to display my rage so others know of my innocence and self-control? To deprive her family of their sweetest flower?
If no one else believes, is it enough that I do? If the butcher, the baker, the weaver, the potter and the shepherd all scan my face with scorn, can I hold my head up high and wrap my arm around her tight? Can I protect and provide when everything inside protests?
When options disappear, when only one door remains, when choice evaporates like dew, then one must act. Rest is as elusive as the mirage in a desert. I reach for it without success. I tumble and turn and come face to face with visions. Angelic. Messianic.
My duty and my dream is to hold her like a rose, an orchid, a lily. To breathe in the fragrance, to bathe in the beauty, to guard the essence – but not to grasp as my own. Not for now. But how?
The pearl beams of dawn creep across my sleeping mat and I spring to the task. Before the rooster crows my hammer and chisel already wakens the neighbors. The task must be done. The bride must be won. It is true. It is real.
But why the hurry when the outcome is clear. More self-control than I can imagine is near. I can cherish and hold but my warmth won’t be bold.
In a flurry of lather and sweat I pound and I plane. I shape and I shine. I finish and furnish. And then I woo. Not for myself. Whether others believe me or not, whether others welcome or disdain, I am tied heart to heart with my love.
What this means for our future I can’t even imagine. To hide in a village with my wood and my stone. To shelter my bride and her son as my own. Together, we will walk through the hills and the valleys for angels we’ve heard and angels we’ve believed.
Kindle the fire that is deep in my heart. Keep it burning right from the start. Help me do my every part.
Prayers in the morning and prayers in the night. I wait for the moment when He says its right.
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.
