Who Am I?

Here is the Who Am I for this week!

1.  I am massive.
2.  I suffer from a slight case of paranoia. 
3.  I love gold.

Who Am I?

Scripture

I was planning on writing a devotion this week; however, working at VBS and having a cold has kept me from doing so. I apologize for that. Basically, this devotion will consist of two of my favorite scriptures. I promise that next time I volunteer for this, I will do better.

Isaiah 6:8 Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.

Isaiah 55:8-12 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.  For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater:  So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.  For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Who Am I?

I had trouble coming up with a Who Am I this week, so this might be pretty easy.

1)  I am a doctor.
2)  I used to share an apartment with a brilliant man.
3)  I have a British accent.

Who Am I?

Tip Tuesday

I have to admit that I don't have a tip today.  Oops.  However, I do have a question for you:  what person(s) have influenced your writing the most?  The answer could be authors, friends, family members, or whoever. 

Who Am I?

Here is this week's Who Am I!  I didn't put very much thought into this one due to extreme busyness.  So...yeah...anyway...    :) 

1)  I am extremely loyal.
2)  Adventures are okay, but I would prefer to be at home.
3)  I have always really wanted to see some elves.

Word Wednesday

Hello everyone!  Today I picked two words that I love to have flow through my mind.  I don't know why, but there is just something fun about them.

Skew [skyoo]:  To turn aside or swerve; take an oblique course.  To look obliquely; squint.   To give an oblique direction to; shape, form, or cut obliquely.  To distort; to depict unfairly.

Waft [wahft]:  To carry lightly and smoothly through the air or over water.  To send or convey lightly, as if in flight.   To signal to, summon, or direct by waving.   To float or be carried, especially through the air.  A sound, odor, etc., faintly perceived.  A wafting movement; light current or gust.

Do y'all have any words that when you read them, you sigh in pleasure?

Tip Tuesday

Today I decided to share one of the tips that I believe have helped me the most with writing. Unfortunately, I can't remember where or who I learned it from . . . Anyway, something that has been very helpful to me as I write is remembering that my characters have five senses: taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight. I try to use all of these some. I feel as if it makes my story feel a bit more realistic because in real life we all five senses to sense the world around us. So, that's my tip for the week. Hopefully, it will help you out!

Does God Love Me? (Faith's Testimony)

          I have never actually typed out my testimony before (or even told it in its entirety), so this all may sound a little rough.  Anyway, here it goes…

          I grew up in a Christian home with solid Christian parents.  As I grew up, I do not remember being extremely worried about whether I was saved or not.  Supposedly I had been saved when I was extremely young, but I discount that entirely considering I do not even remember the occasion.  It wasn’t until I was around eight or nine years old that I knew I was not a Christian.  I remember being a tad sad about it, but besides that, continued on with life without worrying my head about it. 

          During the August of 2006, when I was ten, I was outside playing with my older brother.  Things had been very excitement filled over the last few days due to the fact that our neighbors had spotted a bear.  Our chicken feed can had been knocked over, so we assumed that the bear had done that.  Of course, you can imagine how thrilled I was out there with a bear being around (I’m not being sarcastic).  It wasn’t like that happened very often (actually, it had never happened before). 

          Anyway, my brother and I were playing together and (of course) talking about the bear.  Along in our conversation, the thought of death came up.  After all, there was no telling when that bear would come out and eat us.  I honestly remember very little of that conversation besides that at some point, my brother told me about how he became a Christian.  When I finished talking with him, I went inside and sat down next to my mother as she typed away on the computer.  I began to talk about salvation and such.  Again, I hate to say that what was said in that conversation is very fuzzy. 

          Eventually I rose to my feet and went back outside.  I had decided to do it.  I wanted to become a Christian.  I sat down on a small wooden swing beneath one of our huge pine trees.  I slowly swung back and forth and with a few words gave my life to the Lord.  There wasn’t a huge explosion of angels singing (at least where I could hear them J) or a huge wave of happiness and joy.  I was just glad that I had done it.

          Over the next few years, like many Christians, I began to doubt my salvation.  Often it was due to listening to a preacher say, “If you haven’t had a great hunger for God’s Word you probably aren’t saved.”  When things like that were said, I was would wiggle down in my seat and wonder.  Yes, I had wanted to read my Bible some when I first became a Christian.  However, that had seemed to quickly disappear.  I doubted and fussed over whether my salvation was sticking.  I cried out to the Lord over and over again to save me, but I wasn’t sure whether it was working.

          One day God showed me the truth.  Because I had grown up in a Christian home, my life wasn’t a complete mess before I became a Christian.  Due to that, my life wasn’t going to look radically different like some peoples.  Even though there were still some times later that I doubted my salvation, God has led me to assurance in him.

          About a year ago, I began to struggle with the thought of all the sin in my life.  I can honestly say that there were many times that I hated myself.  I hated the fact that I couldn’t be a “good” Christian.  I hated the fact that I kept sinning.  I just hated it.  I felt as if God’s love couldn’t extend far enough to save me from sin.  I knew he could, but I felt as if he shouldn't. 

          While I did overcome that view of my life to a certain degree, I still struggled with hating myself and wondering about God’s love for me until a couple of months ago.  Then, while listening to a man talk about who God was, God opened my eyes to the problem.  My view of God was skewed.  Instead of viewing God as both loving and just, I had allowed myself to see God as only a judge.  This helped me to better understand why I was having problems.

          Only a few weeks later, I heard a sermon that helped me to understand even better.  Through the sermon God showed me the difference between punishment and chastisement.  I had often walked around thinking that God would punish me for this or that.  I had neglected to realize that God does not punish a Christian for sinning.  While he may chastise the Christian in love, he will not punish them.  When I heard that sermon, I rolled my eyes heavenward, “Lord, you really do know how to get a point across.”

          Do I have everything figured out?  Not at all.  I still struggle at times.  But the Lord has been so faithful to open my eyes to the truth.  I praise him for his constant love of me even though I will always struggle with sin. 

Who Am I?

Here is this week's "Who Am I."  Hopefully it won't be too easy or too hard.  :) 


1.  I live in a small town.

2.  There are many rumors about me.

3.  Many children view me as a frightful person.

4.  I am quiet and reclusive.


Who Am I?

Word Wednesday

Here is your word for the day!  Hopefully you won't find it too strange . . .

Excruciating [ik-skroo-shee-ey-ting]:  1. Extremely painful; causing intense suffering; unbearably distressing; torturing.  2. Exceedingly elaborate or intense; extreme.

There is a reason as to why I picked this word.  For awhile, I was in the habit of using this word quite often.  However, I used it in ways that other people wouldn't (i.e. excruciatingly happy).  People would pause and give me a strange look.  So, I don't know if that is really the correct use of it or not.  Nevertheless, I will more than likely use it to describe things other than pain.  :)

Tip Tuesday

    Recently I was sitting around doing nothing when something occurred to me:  the people in our stories (especially the main character(s)) should have something their life revolves around.  In other words, what do your character's lives revolve around?  What is most precious to them?  Is it something honorable such as Jesus Christ or family?  Or something less than honorable such as money or drugs?  I thought this was an interesting point because in real life all of our lives revolve around something.  Why shouldn't our character's lives revolve around something as well?  Not only does this make them more realistic (at least I think so), it can bring in good conflict if their life is centered on something unethical or worthless.  Anyway, hopefully this will give you something to think about this week. 

The Value of All Part--2

Here's the second half of The Value of All.  I decided I would leave this part how it is since I don't have time to do any editing on it.  So, hopefully you will enjoy it.  Oh, I should warn you that you probably won't like the ending to this story . . .  :)

If you don't remember what happened in the last part, you can read it here:
The Value of All Part--1

          Something was poking her arm.  Elitia blinked trying to still the twirling room.  What?  She was on her back staring at a metal ceiling.  Metal?  She tried to sit up.  Her body didn’t move.  She looked at her arm.  A metal restraint crossed her wrist.  She whipped her head around to look at the other arm.  A metal restraint lay across it as well. 

          Her heart beat wildly as she tried to understand what going on.  Nothing made sense.  Where am I?  What is going on? 
          “She’s awake,” a grim faced women dressed in a white lab gown leaned over her.
          “Are you done with her?” a masculine voice sounded from somewhere in the room. 
          “Yes.  You can take her now,” the woman ripped a needle from her arm.
          Elitia panicked.  What are they going to do to me?
          She began to move.  Above her narrow lights lit the way to where they were taking her.  Her chest heaved in fear.  They were going to kill her.  She just knew it.
          The man’s face came into view.  He gave her a leering once over before he turned his attention away. 
          She closed her eyes in dismay.  Please.  No.
          The only things she could hear were the sound of wheels on a metal floor.  She jerked as she came to a halt.  She barely opened her eyes.  Everything was dark.
          Then the lights came on with a hum.
          “Elitia Walsh.  Sixteen years old.  Has a younger sister, Colette, who is eleven years old.  Mother is dead.  Died in a car accident at exactly 11:48 p.m.  Father died eleven years ago.  How:  unknown.”  Silence followed and then, “Are these facts accurate?”
          Elitia laid there, her mouth dry.  She couldn’t see the source of the voice. 
          “Are they accurate?”
          “Yes,” her whisper was barely audible.
          “Ah.  Good.  I would have hated for us to get our facts wrong,” the man paused, “Would you like to get up?”
          Unsure, she answered, “Yes.”
          She heard the snapping of metal as he undid her restraints.  A hand then slipped beneath her waist and lifted her to a sitting position.  Her head spun and the room wavered in and out of focus. 
          “Better?”
          She blinked a few times.  The room was stilling and colors were returning to their normal hue.  She nodded.
          “Good.”
          She swung her feet over what seemed to be a metal board laid atop a conveyer belt. 
          The man moved away.
          For the first time she saw his face.  Short dark brown hair covered his head framing dark brown eyes that carried a hint of cruelty.  His lips were thin, yet curved upward in the shape of a smile. 
          “I’m glad you made it here in one piece.” 
          “What do you want?”
          “Well, now, I suppose we do need to get to that,” he clasped his hands in front of him.
          “Yes,” her voice grew hard.  Angry.
          “Now now.  No need to get upset.  As you can see, you are in perfect health.”
          “Where is my sister?” 
          “Tut tut.  So demanding.”
          “Where is she?” she glared at him.  If only she could get her hands around his throat.
           He waited.  Watching her.
          Anger propelled her to her feet.  Pain shot up her legs but she ignored it.  “Where?” the words came out half demand, half plea.
          “Fight.  You have lots of fight in you.  I like that.” 
          She raised her chin.  She felt as if she was being insulted but she didn’t know how.
          “Come now.  Don’t take offense.  It was meant as a compliment.”
          “I find that hard to believe.”
          He clapped his hands together.  Eagerness lit his eyes.  “This really couldn’t get any better,” he gave a slight bow, “Now, my young, fiery, spirited lady, if you will go through that door,” he motioned to a door to his left, “and see if perhaps you can clean yourself up a bit.
          She looked at him, her stomach twisting and turning. 
          “Go on.”
          Figuring she had no choice Elitia opened the door and entered a small, narrow room.  It was equipped with a sink and a small mirror. 
          This is all so crazy.  She winced as she caught sight of herself in the glass.  Her lip was bloody, and a large green and yellow bruise adorned her cheek.  She turned on the faucet and dabbed some water on her lip.  It stung, but the blood was disappearing. 
          She ran a hand through her hair trying to disperse some of the tangles.  It fell to her shoulders, ramrod straight.  She took a deep breath and tried to put on a confident face.  She opened the door.
          “Elitia,” a small voice whispered.  Colette stood there, her face covered with streaks of tears. 
          Elitia crossed the room and embraced her.  Colette clung to her, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
          “It’s okay.  Everything will be alright,” Elitia tried to comfort her, all the while knowing she was lying.
          “If you two will please come with me,” he stood there.  Waiting. 
          Elitia pulled back from her sister’s embrace.  “Just what do you want?”
          “You will soon find out.  Now, come.”
          Elitia straightened her shoulders and tightly gripped her sister’s hand.  Together they followed the man. 
          Down a hall they walked.  Metal walls and metal floors surrounded them.  Step after step they took before a door metal door appeared. 
          The man paused before it and turned to look at them.  As if revealing a great secret he said, “Beyond this door your questions will be answered.”
          With a swish it opened.  They walked through into a circular room.  There were other people in the room.  Other teenagers.  Other children.  They all stood in pairs.  Elitia closed her eyes in horror.  They were all siblings. 
          “Please stand over there,” he motioned to an empty spot on the wall. 
          Colette stumbled along behind her, her hand trembling.
          As soon as they were in their place, the man began to speak, “I first must congratulate you all.  Each one, or perhaps I should say each two, of you” he chuckled, “have been chosen for this great honor.”
          Elitia clenched her jaw tightly trying to still its trembling. 
          “What is this honor?” he continued with a diplomatic flair.  “It is a test.  It will soon be evident how strong and how intelligent you are.  May you each pass with flying colors.  Now I believe we are ready,” with those words he turned and left the room.
          Glances were exchanged and a sob or two came from the younger subjects.  A whining sound, like the sound of a machine coming to life, filled the room.  But the room was no longer.  No longer did they stand surrounded by metal walls.  Instead grass lay beneath their feet.  A grove a trees surrounded the field where they stood.  And all was quiet. 
          A gentle wind caressed Elitia’s cheek.  A bird tweeted nearby.  Clouds dotted the sky.  The sun shone down brightly.
          There they stood.  Stunned and afraid. 
          Then a rumbling sound filled the air.  The ground upon which Elitia and Colette stood buckled, pitching them forward and apart.
          The sky and ground melded together into one as she pitched head over heels down the slope.  Other cries filled the air as more sibling pairs were thrown to the ground as the earth bowed and rose. 
          Elitia grasped for anything that would stop her roll.  Something hard slammed into her side.  The sky above turned grey as she fought for consciousness. 
          “Easy now,” a hand touched her face while an arm pulled her away from the hard wood.  “Breath.”
          She sucked in a ragged breath.
          “Good girl.”
          Above her a young man looked at her with a worried gaze.  Behind him a girl stood, panic evident on her face. 
          “Thanks,” she wheezed.
          “No problem.”
          He held her steady as she rose to her feet.  The ground was no longer pitching.  People were rising to their feet.  A few were limping. 
          Elitia rubbed her aching side.  She had slammed into a tree.  No wonder she was in pain.  Colette.  She stood up straight trying to fight down panic.  There was no sight of her.
          “Colette!”  Before she was able to get another word out a small figure plowed into her side.  Red hair, covered with dirt and grass, lay askew. 
          They melded into a hug, their bodies heaving with fright.  Elitia finally pulled away and looked at the young man.  “What now?” her voice broke.  She was scared.  She was really scared.
          His eyes wondered over the fields occupants.  They looked as disjointed and confused as Elitia felt.
          “They said this is a test.  I sure wish I knew what they were testing,” his eyes held frustration.          “Strength and intelligence.”
          “Yeah, but-” his words were cut off.
          A loud roaring filled the clearing.  Lions?  Elitia could not believe it.  They stalked into the clearly, their eyes bright with the thought of killing. 
          The young man grabbed his sister’s arm and motioned at Elitia.  “Come on!” 
          She only hesitated for a second.  The four of them rushed into the folds of the forest.  Behind them they could hear the cry of humans and the victory roar of the lions.  Branches whipped across Elitia’s face drawing blood.  She didn’t care.  Adrenaline pumped through her body.  She was running for her life. 
          “One’s following us!” Colette shrieked.
          Elitia did not have to look to know she was right.  Something was crashing through the brush right at them.
          The next moment she crashed into the young man’s back.  They went down together in a tangle of arms and legs.
          “What do you-” Elitia began to sputter.  Then she saw a why.  A lion crouched before them, leering.  Another lion came up behind blood dripping from its fangs.
          They stood there, frozen.  Their eyes wide with fear. 
          Something brushed Elitia’s hair.  A tree branch . . .!  She grabbed Colette around the waist and shoved her upward and onto the branch.  “Climb!”
          As she pulled herself up onto it as well, it groaned dangerously.  Please don’t break!  She grasped for another branch and pulled herself up higher into the leaves.
          Below, the young man was following her lead.  Soon they were all safe within the confines of the tree.
          Down below the lions roared and pawed at the bottom of the tree, shaking it.  It shook harder and harder bending back and forth. 
          A loud cracking sound filled the air.  Elitia clutched the tree trunk as the ground started rushing up towards her.  “Ah!” her cry came out as a squeak as she crashed onto the earth.
          Something slammed into her back pinning her to the ground.  Dirt and leaves were forcing their way into her mouth.  Colette called her name.  She tried to answer, but her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton.
          Then everything went silent.  The only noises were Elitia’s heavy breathing as she tried to pull air into her crushed lungs.
          She pushed with her hands and tried to raise her head.  All she could see were branches.  No.  Wait.  She pushed up again.  A body.  Colette?  Blood streaked the young girl’s face.  Her eyes were open and vacant. 
          “Nooo!” a tortured cry sprang from Elitia’s throat.  “No!”  She clawed at the ground trying to free herself. 
          Her fingers cried in pain.  She whimpered, burying her face in the ground.
         “I’ll get you out in just a moment.”  It was the boy.  She didn’t care.  Let him leave her here.  Death would be a wonderful gift. 
          “Niyati!” a childish voice sounded.
          “Don’t worry, I’ve almost got you out.”
          His name is Niyati.  The thought barely registered among the throngs of her emotions.
          Branches crunched as he freed his sister and headed towards Elitia.  He shoved and pulled at the branches pinning her to the ground until they moved enough for her to crawl out from under. 
          Now free, she sat there on the ground.  She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to cry.
          Why her sister?  Why? 
          “I-I’m sorry,” Niyati scratched his head nervously.
          She ignored him, sinking deeper into her sorrow. 
          “Help!”
          Niyati started, then cried, “Elen!”  He leapt through the fallen branches, frantically shoving them aside as he went.  All Elitia could see of his sister was a frantic face and her hands grasping the dirt.  A hole had opened up right beneath her.
          Niyati grabbed her hands and pulled.  “I can’t-” he broke off panting.  He looked desperately at Elitia.  “Help me!”
          She lay where she was, staring vacantly at him. 
          “Please!” his voice was laced with desperation.
          The ground buckled sending her flying into the air.  Branches stabbed her face as she hit the ground.  A loud wail filled the air.
          She stumbled to her feet.  Niyati was scrambling back to the side of the pit.  Elen was gone. 
         He looked at her, his eyes wild with grief.  “How could you just sit there?!  If you had helped she might still be here!”
          Tears welled up in her eyes.  He was right.  He was so right.  “I-I-”
          He turned his back on her, his head in his hands. 
         Why did I do it?  If only I had helped…if only…  She whirled and ran.  She could not face him.  It was all her fault.  She ignored the pain streaking up her side.  He hated her, and she hated herself.  And her sister was dead.
          Elitia ran until her feet gave out.  She collapsed on the ground panting.  The woods were getting dark, and the air was turning cold.  Who cares?  I might as well die out here.  Those were the thoughts coursing through her head as she fell asleep. 

 

          I’m still alive.  The stars were fading away as the sun’s rays filled the sky.  Her muscles screamed with pain as she tried to sit up.  “Oooh.”

          The air was chilly and easily filtered through her clothing.  She rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself up. 
         “Sorry there’s not a fire, but I had no way of starting one.”
          She jerked around.  Someone sat behind her.  Him.  Niyati.  His eyes looked weary and sad, but there was something else there.  Peace.
          “Listen, I’m sorry for shouting at you.”
          She blinked.  He was apologizing to her?  “But it was my fault.  If I had tried to help . . . “
          He ran a hand through his hair.  “Yes, if you had helped, things might have turned out differently.  But I’m not the only one who lost a sibling, am I?”
          Her heart throbbed with sorrow.
          “I realized that, well, you were suffering then as well.  I probably would have done the same thing if our places had been reversed.”
          He had forgiven her.  Overwhelmed with relief, she wiped a stray tear from her eye.  For a few moments they both remained silent, trying to control their emotions.
          “Do you think any of the others are still alive?” she broke the silence.
          “Possibly.  I just wish I knew what they are doing.  What they want from us.”
         “It’s just a large game and we are the pawns.  They don’t care if we drop dead or if we stay alive,” bitterness filled her voice.
           “But they didn’t just send us out here for no reason,” he slowly got to his feet, immersed in thought.
          She couldn’t keep the bite of sarcasm out of her voice, “Well, let’s just be the great detectives and figure it out.”
          He scowled at her.
          His gaze made her squirm.  “Sorry.”
          As he opened his mouth to speak, a familiar whining filled the air.
          She jumped to her feet.  The forest was fading.  Instead of trees, familiar metal walls filled her view. 
          “Interesting.” 
          She jumped and whirled. 
          “Welcome back,” the man smiled at them.  They were back were they had started.  The metal room.  Except this time they were alone.
         “Y-you,” her eyes flashed angrily.  Niyati laid a restraining hand on her arm.  But it too trembled with anger.
          The man rubbed his hands together, amused.  “Don’t be angry.  You two actually did surprisingly well.  Yes.  Or perhaps I should say you had unique reactions.”
          “Reactions?  To what?  You killing our sisters?!” she took a step forward, the words pouring out of her mouth like a bucket of water.
          He just smiled.  “You still have some kick left in you.  Very nice.  Very nice indeed.”
          She hated him.  Her hands curled into tight fists.
          He snapped his fingers, “Take these two.”
          Four men entered the room and surrounded them.  Elitia’s jaw was clenched so tight, she was surprised it hadn’t snapped. 
          They paraded out of the room, down the hall, and into another room.  The guards left them there without a word. 
          “I could kill him.”
          “I know,” Niyati shoved his hands in his pockets.
          She stared at him in wonderment, “How can you be so calm?”
          He smirked, “I’m not calm.  I’m just controlling myself.”
          “Sure, whatever.”
          The door creaked open, and a small face peered through. 
          Elitia could only stare.  The face was covered with freckles, and that hair.  It belonged to only one person.  “Colette!”
          The next few moments were filled with tears of joy as the two girls hugged each other.
          “But how?” she gently ran finger down Colette’s face.  “You were dead.”
          She shrugged.  “When I hit the ground after the tree fell, everything faded away and I was in the room where we all started.”
          “Same with me,” a quiet voice said.
          Elen stood beside Niyati, holding his hand.  She, too, was alive.
          “I believe it is time for you to leave,” the man was there again, his eyes touched with humor.
          Elitia gripped her sister’s hand tightly.  They would not be separated ever again.  “Where to?”
          “Home.  Of course.  Now, if you will please follow this gentleman,” he motioned to a man standing behind him.
          Numbly they followed him down what seemed miles of corridors until they reached another door.  He opened it and motioned them through.  They were outside.  The sun shone down brightly, warming their chilled bodies.  It was over. 

 

          The house seemed empty and quiet as the stepped into it.  Soberly, each girl made her own way to her room.  After a shower and a change of clothes they converged on the kitchen. 

          “I just don’t understand what happened,” Colette played with her glass of water.  “What did they want?”
          Elitia studied the cracked tile that adorned the kitchen floor, “I don’t think we will ever know.”
          “So, now what?”
          “You’ll go back to school, and I’ll look for a job,” the words caught in her throat.  She looked solemnly into her sister’s eyes, “But don’t expect things to go back to normal.  They will never be the same.  Everything has changed.”
          Colette blinked hard and reached out for a hug. 
          Elitia gripped her tightly.  Whatever happens, I must not lose her again.

 

          “Was it a success?”

            “The results were as I suspected.”
            “It is time then?”
            “Yes.  It is time.”

The Door

    I am planning on posting the rest of The Value of All, but I have decided to do some editing on the second part (something which I haven't gotten around to yet) since I did not like it very well.  So, I decided to post (I think) the best story that I have ever ritten.  This story will also fulfill the challenge that I posted last month. :) 

    The verse that goes along with this story is:  Song of Soloman 8:4 I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.

          I balanced a garland of flowers on my head and laughed up into the rays of sunshine.  The sky was a clear, deep blue unmarred by any clouds.  Joy seemed to spring out of it and swallow me up.  I twirled as I laughed again, my voice echoing out across the field.  As I spun, laughter, from a different voice, echoed back.

          He was here, striding across the meadow, light shining from His face. 
          My child. 
          The words did not need to be spoken.  I was His.  I would always be His.  As He came up beside me I slipped my small hand into His big one. 
          Come. 
          Tall grass whipped about my knees as I walked along beside Him.  Ahead of us, a small grove of trees grew larger and larger as we neared it.  My heart pounded.  Many times had I gazed at this place and dreamed about what resided within.  He had told me He would one day show me what was in it; that day had come. 
          It was cool beneath the branches of the trees, and the grass still carried traces of dew.  Birds flew about my head, singing songs of happiness.  It was all so beautiful.  Then I saw it.  A door.  It was clear like glass with a golden handle. 
          “Where does it lead?” my voice rose with excitement. 
          He looked at me, His eyes deepening with love.  “That is something you will not know until you open it.”
          “May I open it?”
          “You must have a key.”
          I looked back at the door and realized He was right.  “Where is the key?”
          He did not answer; instead He pressed something hard and cold in my hand:  the key.  I eagerly fingered it, then took a step towards the door.
          “It is not time.”
          Those quiet words halted my steps.  I looked at Him, confused.  “Then why did you give me the key?  Why did you show me the door?”
          He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.  “There is a reason.  But it is one I cannot tell you yet.”  He leaned close, His eyes tender.  “One day it will be time to open the door, but until that day, do not enter it.  Wait for me.  Trust me.” 
          Love for Him welled up in my heart.  I threw my arms about Him.  “I will wait.”

                                                                   ˜  

           I sat quietly in the tall grass fingering the precious key.  It had been several years since He had given it to me, yet it had never lost its beauty.  And never once had I forgotten about it.  I would often place my hand over the small, leather pouch that I carried it in to reassure myself that it was still there.

          My child. 
          The voice rang in my ears.  My heart leapt as I whirled and ran towards the approaching figure.  “Is it time?”  I asked breathlessly, my heart thumping with excitement.
          “Not yet.  Come, follow me.”
          I looked away, trying to hide the disappointment on my face.  When I looked back I saw He was looking at me, sorrow in His eyes.  Shame washed over me.  He had told me to trust Him. 
          Together we walked out of the field, through a stand of trees, and into another field.  However, unlike the one I had just been in, this one was filled with other girls.  They too carried pouches like mine. 
          “Do they have keys as well?”
          “Yes.”
          “Do I get stay here with them?”
          “Yes.”
          My eyes shone with joy.  How wonderful it would be being able to wait with so many girls.  I would no longer be alone. 
          I looked at Him and smiled. 

˜  

 
          “Hey!”
          I turned and looked at the girl calling to me.
          She ran up to me and grinned, “When are you going to show it to me?”
          “Show what?”
          “Your key.  I’ve seen everyone’s but yours.”
          I hesitated.  No one had seen my key but Him.
          “Come on.  Please?”
          I firmly shook my head. 
          “Oh, you are no fun,” she pouted.  But within moments a smile lit her face, “Have you heard that one of the girls has gone through her door?”
          “Really?”  Hope rose within me.  Perhaps my day would arrive soon.
          “Yep.  And guess what,” she leaned close and whispered, “She went without Him saying she could.” 
          I paled.  “B-but no one is supposed to go through their door until it is time.”
          “Seriously, do you still hold on to that idea?” she rolled her eyes, “Listen, all the girls here have already given up on Him knowing the proper timing.  I mean, seriously, think about it.  How many girls have gone through their doors since you got here?”
          “Um,” I frowned trying to remember, “maybe one.”
          “Exactly!  If you want to go through your door, you had just better go on through.  Because if you are waiting for Him to tell you it is time, it isn’t going to happen.”
          I stared at her.  How could she say such a thing? 

˜  

 

          I was alone.  I slowly sank down to the ground and buried my face in my hands.  All the other girls had gone through their doors.  Each one had announced resolutely that there was no reason to wait.  Even though I had resisted what they said, my resolved was crumbling.
          “Where are you?” I groaned softly, tears coursing down my cheeks.
          My child. 
          I froze.   It was Him.  He stood in front of me, His eyes tender. 
          The words sputtered out of my mouth, “I-Is it time?” 
          He looked at me for a long moment and sadness filled His eyes.  “Not yet.”
          “What?” I slowly stood to my feet, rage building within me.  How could He say this?  “I have waited for years and years.  All the other girls have left.  Why haven’t they gotten in trouble?  Why do you just stand aside and watch them go through that door?  They haven’t suffered any consequences!  In fact, some of them have come back through the door and have come told me how wonderful it is on the other side!”  My voice rose with anger.  “I don’t understand why you are making me wait here all alone for a day that will never come!”  I turned away, sobs choking my throat. 
          My child.
          “No!  I’m not your child!  I hate you!”
          The words hurt Him.  I could see the pain in His eyes.  But I didn’t care.  I whirled and stalked away from Him.  I wasn’t going to wait any longer. 
          In a few moments I was in the small grove of trees that housed the door.  My door.  I flipped the pouch open and pulled the key out.   The door stood in front of me glistening as brightly as ever.
          I walked up to it and ran my hand over the surface.  Little tingles ran up and down my spine.  What was beyond it?     
          Wait for me.  Trust me. 
          I clamped my eyes shut.  Those words had been said years ago.  He had never meant them.  If He had, He would have already taken me through the door. 
          Why did you give me this key?  Why did you show me this door?  I looked up at it, desire twisting my insides.         
          Wait. 
          I sank to my knees.  Thoughts whirled through my head.  I didn’t understand.  Why? 
          For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.
          I looked at the key then I looked at the door and I wept.  The tears ran down my face and dropped to the ground.  I was unable to quench their flow.  All my dreams, all my desires, were being trampled into the ground.  I wanted to go through that door.  I had waited my entire life to go through it.  But that was not what he wanted.
          “Please, forgive me.”  The words were barely more than a whisper from a broken soul.
          My child. 
          He stood beside me, love pouring forth from His face.  Then I realized I had never been alone.  He had always been there right beside me, waiting for me to turn and look for Him.           
          Once again I threw my arms around Him.  Then I leaned back and looked into His face.  “Take it.”  I pressed the key into His hand. 
          His eyes warmed and He drew me close. 
                                                                            ˜  

          I stood in the field staring out across the rippling grass.  Around me young girls played.  Over time, more girls had entered the field excited about the day they could enter their door.  The words I had greeted each one with were, “Do not be afraid to wait.”  And so far they had waited.
          “I have something I need to tell you.”
          I turned to the young girl and smiled, “What is it?”
          Her face lit up with joy, “I gave Him my key.”
          I pulled her into a hug, my eyes brimming with tears.
          My child.
          Beyond the girl he stood there, waiting.  His hand was outstretched holding something.  A key.  My key.  The key I had given Him. 
          The little girl pulled out of my hug and squeezed my hand.  “It is your turn now.”
          I looked at her and I looked at Him.
          He nodded. 
          Together we went to the grove.  My door still stood there.  He began to press the key into my hand.  “No,” I refused it, “I want you to open it for me.”
          His eyes grew tender.  “Do you see why I had you wait?”
         “Yes.  I was not ready before.  I am now.  But only if you go with me.”
          He stepped up to the door and inserted the key into the lock.  He pulled the door open and waited for me to step through. 
          I looked at Him and I looked at the door.  Then I gently slipped my hand into His.  Together we walked through the door.