From the authors workbench
Recently, I’ve been seeking the Lord. I need him. Isn’t that when we look for him? I was seeking some answers. This is some of the results of my quest. It came through my imagination, which he instilled in me. A story which brought me a smile. I share it for anyone who need's it. But it needs to be blogged in two parts because of it's length. Here is part 1.
Psalms 23:1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He was there before I arrived. Surrounded by lambs and other animals, he looked comfortable perched on a big boulder. Though his presence shocked me he was not surprised to see me. He smiled, and patted a space on the rock beside him.
I blinked, in shock. Not surprising, since just a split second ago I had been on the tiny patio of my home, sobbing and praying for the Lord’s peace and guidance. Not joy. I was mourning. Another of those events had occurred. People had been hurt, and some had died.
The selfish grief that I was expressing had a base of reality. But much of it was for me. Alone, broke most of the time, struggling in a world I did not feel as though I belonged. So I prayed. My gaze went upward, to heaven, where God would hear me. No stars presented themselves under the city lights. The moon was almost full. Clouds drifted across it, almost completely covering it.
Twin beams of light flashed downward, lifting me up. I had time to blink three times. The lights consolidated and brightened so that I had to raise my hand over my face and shut my eyes. When I opened them, I was here, in the daylight, by a stream, with the smell of wild honeysuckle wafting by. Birds twittered and the flow of the stream was calming. It was the Lord who drew my attention, however.
First, I noticed his eyes. Brown, sweet, happy eyes they were. When I looked into them, they glowed. The joy that emanated from them overcame me and I could not resist it. I also could not stand it for long. My own green eyes dropped. The overpowering sensation of delight only decreased to a bearable level. I could not help the chuckles that burst from my throat.
While avoiding his eyes for a moment I observed his sun tanned face, his brown hair flowing to just below his shoulders, the traditional garb that I always imagined the savior to wear. Shepherd’s ware, a blue robe and sandals. I noted the scars on his ankles and winced, looking away. Ugly, evil scars. The laughter froze. My eyes are drawn back to his own, which carry none of the sorrow I would imagine for someone who had gone through what he had.
I had noticed nothing of my surroundings yet. Everything else is dim beside him and his beautiful eyes. They satisfied my every want. Peace. Comfort. Relief. Courage. And joy.
But for a mere mortal, it was too much. Suddenly, I could not breathe. I could not stand. I wanted to fall on my knees and worship him. But a part of me wanted to run to him and fling myself like a child on a parent, or on an older sibling. He nodded. Did he want me? Really? Still he smiled and reached out for me.
A rose bush bloomed beside him on his rock. It was a wild variety, and it bloomed profusely. I noticed there were no thorns. Secretly, I peeked back at the Lord. He cocked his head, still smiling. I bit my lip.
Alarms screamed in my mind. This was not real. I was dreaming. The Good Shepherd was not standing just three feet away, with his arms outstretched. Not me. I didn’t deserve it. Nothing real could give me my wants, though he truly had just a moment ago.
Psalm 23:2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
I am a foolish sheep, like so many people. I turned and ran from my Lord, and the wondrous delight he brought my spirit. My awkward feet bounced off soft ground covered in green grass. My usually sore left knee throbbed every time I raised it. Sheep can be very dumb, and I had been bewildered to the point of stupidity. So I ran away, wiping tears off my face as I chugged along.
The poor shell of a body that I don’t maintain well couldn’t go far, or fast. Soon, I was going into a wooded area. I slowed to a walk. The trees waved a bit in the wind. Was there going to be a storm? No birds sang. No animals chattered. A thorn bush grabbed me and I had to fight for release. In the end I was badly scratched. Now I could see there were plenty more of the thorns. Rustling noises caught me by surprise. Who or what was behind me? Fear clutched me and choked me. I fled, tripping over branches, stumbling on rocks and uneven earth. Again I could not traverse far. Winded and weary, I bent at the waist and gasped for air while clinging to a tree limb.
A heavy drop of rain landed on my face. I was not crying now. But I wanted to. With a deep breath I kept my feet moving forward. The grey clouds above me opened.
The downpour was powerful, and the wind splashed the rain into my shelter but I managed to stay mostly dry under a massive, old willow tree. A family of squirrels joined me in this place. They were not afraid, though they didn’t come near. I stayed still and quiet. When the storm was over they left single file. The last baby wagged his tail and bolted to play with its siblings. I stayed still. They had not been afraid. I was. Had I just run away from the Lord himself?
A cry drew me out. What was that sound? Was it a child? Or an animal? I had been seated by the trunk of the tree. Standing was painful because my limbs had stiffened. Branches still waved in the wind. Was the storm really over? I limped out of my shelter and stretched. It felt good. But the knee still hurt. The limp remained. My eyes sought out the source of the sound I had heard. The forest remained still. A clean scent rose from the ground. The rain had cleaned the world as it should. But I felt grubby. My clothes were wrinkled and sweat stained. My hair drooped from dampness. I pressed forward.
Thank goodness I could not go fast. The edge of the bank came up quickly, without notice. I almost fell down into the river. Instead, I fell back, almost falling down before catching myself on a tree.
It would have been a ten foot drop. There was a very slim, rocky beach. The river ran fast and furious. Had the storm filled it so quickly? Waves crashed over stones and branches lodged along the way. Gasps overtook my poor overloaded lungs and I fought for air. Would my heart come out of my body? It felt like it could, pounding heavily.
I am an office worker by day but a writer and crafter in my free time. My books can be found on Amazon in print or on Kindle.