The Old Friend - submitted by Melian

The pastor prayed as the last few notes of the closing hymn hung in the air before dismissing the congregation with an exhortation and blessing. People left their seats, leaving to pick up kids from Sunday school classes, going out to lunch, or congesting the aisles while they chatted with friends. One of the female members approached William Kelly as he slowly rose from his chair, leaning on his old wooden cane. She was accompanied by her usual bright smile which he returned with one of his own--worn perhaps, but not at all rusty.

“Hello Mr. Kelly!”

“Hello Emma.” His heart delighted at her cheerful voice, youthful beauty, and that certain glow that only comes from being recently married. In his mind’s eye he saw his own wife at that age with that same glow, standing in the same room, the sanctuary lights glowing softly on her golden head…

“Ryan and I were wondering if you would like to join us for lunch this afternoon?”

The smile on William’s face widened at the invitation but he shook his head. “Thank you Emma, but I think not today. Why don’t you and Ryan have a nice quiet afternoon to yourselves.”

“You have other plans?”

“Yes. Yes I do. I’m going to spend some time with a very old friend of mine.”

“Oh!” Emma’s smile came back in full force. “That’s great! How do you two know each other?”

“My wife introduced us, a long time ago.”

“Do you get to see each other often?”

“Oh I try to get together once a year or so.”

“How fun. I hope you have a good time.”

William nodded. “I’m sure we will. And thank you for the lunch offer.”

“Oh yes. Maybe we can do it next week.”

“Sounds fine with me.”

“Alright! We’ll plan on that then. Have a good week Mr. Kelly!”

“You too Emma.”

Emma joined her husband outside the church doors and together they headed towards the parking lot.

“He said no?”

“He’s having company over today. Maybe next week.”

Ryan nodded. “I’m glad you thought to offer,” he said, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist.

She nestled her head against his broad shoulder. “I’m glad he has a good friend to spend time with.”



William crossed through the picketed gate opening onto his yard and walked the pathway up to the front door. Though his shoulders were hunched slightly from age, his still-dark head was only a few inches from the top of the door frame.

In the kitchen he took from the refrigerator a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade made just the way his wife used to do for hot summer afternoons. With a glass filled with the pale yellow liquid, he stepped across the hallway to the cool library and sank into his favorite easy chair. He took into hand an old paperback; tears dimmed his vision as his eyes ran over the words written just inside the tattered cover in faded ink--

To my dear husband Will, with hopes that he will enjoy it for many years to come.
Many loves, Margaret.

One withered finger lovingly traced the words before he turned past the introduction and the table of contents, his eyes taking in the familiar words that greeted him with perfect welcome. William turned the worn pages ’til he came to the first chapter. His eyes swept through it, reacquainting himself with the dear old words, the rich story. As a satisfied smile crept to his lips, Will sank back deep into his chair.

“Hello, old friend.”


"You know you’ve read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend."--Paul Sweeney
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Shore Walk

I walked by the shore,
Holding a shell
Strung on a string
Round my neck

My eyes could not see
The sand at my feet;
They saw things not
On my trek.

An old man walked by
Humming a tune
Shuffling his feet
As he went.

“Where did it come from?”
He asked ‘bout my shell.
I answered the man,
Old and bent.

“Twas given to me
By the man I loved
Once when we walked
On this shore.

“We wandered all night
In still starlight
Listening to the sea’s
Mighty roar.

“At first glow of dawn
He gave me this shell
To remember sounds
Of our walk.

“Then he went to war
And never came back
To the shelled shore where
We used to talk.”

The old man smiled
And nodded his head,
Seeing the tears
In my eyes.

He knew well the sounds
Of war and of death:
The reasons an old
Woman cries.

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Five Hot Guys

Five hot guys, were packed into a car one day… on their way home from an afternoon at the movies.

(Yes, “hot”… it was like 95 degrees, and the air conditioning hadn’t been running all that long.)

One of them had in his hand, his sunglasses…
One had the “oh my goodness” handle…
(You know… the handle above the door, that everyone grabs when the driver takes a corner at somewhere near sixty mph, and then screams, “Oh, my goodness!”)...

Alright, so,
Another had an airsoft gun,
One more, had in his hand the air rushing by outside the window…
and one…
thankfully…
Had the steering wheel.

Cruising down the road, forty miles an hour…

Now…

Picture this…

These same five guys, packed into the back of a police cruiser… wait, four…

Four guys now, packed into the back of a black and white dodge with… oddly enough, one guy tied to the top and a policeman, at the end of his long shift -too long- behind the wheel.

Apparently too much government assistance (*ahem* the people's tax money.) was being given to “fight global warming” and to promote religious “tolerance” and not enough was being directed to the municipal police department and law enforcement of Aurora Colorado.

With that said, there was only one policeman in the area, and obviously, only one car as well. There wasn’t even enough room in the cramped quarters of the backseat of a “compact” police car for four, let alone five…

(Shall we say, the rear seat had a three-and-a-half-body capacity?)

So, handcuffed and tied to the racks ontop of the government vehicle… was the youngest of the five.

On their way to the police station, the police man hit a red light… ok, so he didn’t actually “hit” it, he came to it, and stopped… surprisingly enough… -some cops don’t, especially when tired.

While stopped, he rubbed his eyes, it hadn’t been easy coercing these five delinquents into, and onto his small cruiser.

But he was nearly there… just a few more blocks.

-wait…

Just outside the window, on his side of the car…

Was that?

It was…

There, on the ground…

Rope?

From whe-

Oh no!!!

The law enforcement officer, turned back to see the guy formerly tied to the roof of his… his government’s car… and saw his back disappear behind the hill near the intersection.

Alright… now…

Rewind with me…

Back about two minutes…

The tiee, with a 40 mile an hour wind blowing his, albeit, short hair, was enjoying his unconventional ride across town.

With every moment, he was realizing however, that if he were convicted, his would be the stiffest of all the sentences… as it was his airsoft gun that ended up getting them into this in the first place, he began to consider his means of escape.

He realized that his neck could bend enough for his teeth to reach the ropes around his chest.

With a grin, he quickly started to chew… gnaw… at these ropes… apparently very old…

And in about a minute and half he was loose enough to slip out from under his bonds.

He looked up ahead, and saw the light turning yellow, and his mind raced faster than his consciousness could realize, and his limbs began following a plan, the details of which he wasn’t even fully aware himself.

With the stealth of a cat, and the nimbleness of a mountain goat, he positioned himself on top of the car, now slowing to a stop; he was poised like a panther for a leap and his adrenaline pumping like an oil well in Saudi Arabia.

Moments before the car reached a full stop, his feet left the roof, hardly making a sound, definitely not one the exhausted ears of our friendly neighbourhood policeman could hear.

This brings us back to speed with the story from inside the car.

The four others in the backseat, were realizing slower than the driver, what was happening… and they, being handcuffed, had little to do aside from watch the events unfold…

The policeman swung his door open and raced around the front of his car…

The light turned green, and the line of cars waiting behind him, honked… half of them, unaware of the “lost cargo” that was escaping to the right…

As the policeman made his way across the street, a car coming through the light, the other direction, swerved to miss the “boy in blue” and ran *head-on* (hate that commercial), into the car our four friends were waiting in, and watching from…

Sliding off the road, the police car tipped on its side, and bent around a stump, allowing the locked door to swing open, and the four guys climbed out; and with hands still bound, they bounded across the field and into the upper-middle-class neighbourhood down the hill on the left side of the road.

The clouds above the mountains were slowly beginning to transform from dull grey-white streaks into vibrant flames of pink, orange, and red, as the sun approached the tips of the towering spikes of granite.

So… of the five…

One, is now gone… alone… and followed…

The other four, are a group, off on the run, veiled by the suburbia, roaming the streets of middle-class debtors, hand’s cuffed and “deserving” of imprisonment…

Little do they know, the recent advent of One, roaming the same streets, evading the same government… but where they have circumstance driving them, He, has a reason driving Him…. A motive... His love… justice… and truth.



Ok, so I asked you earlier, to “picture this…”

Abstract picture, ‘eh?

Well, that is it… a picture…
One that doesn’t exist in reality, but did exist, in the minds of five “hot” guys, riding home from a movie earlier today.

There was more about a dress, and about transforming pants utilized in sewer conflict evasion… but that was irrelevant… as the rest seems, and perhaps… actually is…

But it’s a story, accumulated from the random ideas of five movie-stricken minds.

Embellished by one in particular, for literary potency.

Enjoy it if you can… if you want to… and keep praying and never settle, but always be content…

And Keep Smiling, for the right reasons…

God is so good! =)

From “The Five.”

Minus one, in Japan at the moment, which’d have made us six… plus One, Who’s always there, anywhere… which’d have made us seven… prime. But, I guess, God can use less than prime… and He does… still, that doesn’t change what we wish…

Again, enjoy the “picture” the... story.

-MAC <>< =) Read more!

Trust

She shook her head violently and waved her hands before her tear-blinded eyes. Most of the time she could predict or at least understand her husband’s choices. When she was angry, it was usually because somewhere deep inside her, though she didn’t like the decision, she guessed he was right.

This moment was so different. Without warning, her husband had given her news that seemed utterly senseless, and hurtful. She was pained deeply for a presently inexplicable reason. But the tears had to go away. He had to stop talking, and she had to see him.

One look. The pain didn’t go away. It increased as more and more she realized he had known what the cost would be to her. Yet somehow also contained in his eyes was the truth that he still loved her. She had to acknowledge that in some unthinkable way he not only had the right, but also the responsibility to do this to her.

The tears returned. All she could try to resist them was useless. But she bowed her head and would have clung to him still if he had not stepped away. He instead put his two strong hands on her shoulders. Directing her outside, he made her face the day. He didn’t leave, though he wouldn’t wipe her tears away. She had to let the harsh wind blow the moisture from her face.

Why didn’t she leave? How could he have the right to make her so miserable – willfully? She loved him. That was enough. He could ask anything before God, and she would follow. In humble trust, she would agree. Trust doesn’t have to, often cannot, understand. But real love continues anyway.

To God be all glory.

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You Cannot Follow

What was that? Jesus was going where Peter couldn’t follow? No. Not possible. Peter would die to see His reign established. There may be a glorious battle or a few rebels. If necessary…

They went for a walk. Deny Him? Crazy. Today?

“Pray,” Jesus said. Everything was confusing. It had been a long, busy week. Sleep came. The rest of the evening was a mixture of sleep and nightmare waking.

Swords. Shouts. Torches. Judas. The battle had started! Peter drew the sword Jesus had counseled his followers to buy, and swung. No time to think or aim – Peter had made a promise.

Never yet had Peter been so surprised as when he heard Jesus rebuking him, and witnessed his Teacher healing the enemy. The enemy!

Torches flickered into the distance. Jesus was gone. Silently, Peter followed.

Only one disciple remained with Peter. They trailed the mob to the house of the high priest. At the door, a servant girl challenged him. “You are not one of this man’s disciples, are you?” Peter’s breath caught. “I am not,” he mumbled, and moved quickly towards the fire.

While warming himself, another man confronted Peter. After a quick reply, Peter diverted his eyes and moved to the edge of the firelight.

A man asked him, “Were you with him?”

“No, no.” This wasn’t right. Where was the great battle – the establishment of the King? Old doubts raised by Jesus’ cryptic comments returned. Until the cock crowed, Peter hadn’t realized. This was it. This had been the chance to stand.

A question in his eyes, Peter turned to his Teacher’s face. How many times had he practiced that movement? Never would the memory of that face, that instant, be forgotten.

“You cannot follow. You cannot follow.” The words echoed in Peter’s mind with resounding clarity. It was not so much that the road was blocked as Peter was unable to walk, even crawl, this road Jesus trod.

Failure didn’t come easy for Peter. For the first time he noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks. The nightmare engulfed him. He fled to the black streets.

To God be all glory.
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Unspoken Words

“Hi, Elise!” called Allison. She sat waiting in the college cafeteria. Elise smiled, waved back, and made her way across the room.

Just the night before, Elise’s pastor had given a message about telling friends the gospel. Allison hadn’t been out of her mind since. Did God want her to tell Allison about her faith – the gospel?

How exactly would one tell Allison the gospel? She was popular, smart, and kind of rebellious. The last thing she would accept from a close friend was their views on religion crammed down her contented agnostic throat.

Since Elise’s freshman year of high school, she’d known Allison. They went to school and movies together and the pool in summertime. Elise figured she was a balancing influence on Allison impetuous energy. Until last night, she never thought of the fact that her friend should be way out of balance – totally on God’s side.

But anyone who knew Allison would tell you that she “knows what she wants and almost always gets it.” If she wanted to know what Elise believed, Allison would ask, or rather demand, to be told. Elise was sure of it. Until she asked, maybe Elise would just pray for her…

Chris, Elise’s coveted fiancé, urged her to talk to Allison. In a few short days, Elise would be married and there would be an uncloseable gap in their relationship. “Tell her now,” he suggested during a walk, “before she won’t listen any more.”

Already Allison was withdrawing. Sure, they’d shopped for the wedding dress together (relying on Allison’s amazing good taste) and Allison would be a bridesmaid in the ceremony. Still, there was that gap in experience. That was why Elise picked up the phone to ask her to the movie.

Allison laughed through the movie. Elise cried at the final good-bye. She could never say good-bye like that to Chris. Never!

As they drove home late that night, Elise was preoccupied with plans for her wedding. Mental check: one more bouquet of white roses for decorations. Allison had a calculus exam tomorrow before the dress rehearsal in the evening, and was going over formulas aloud as she drove. There had been no opportunity to talk about serious things.

Now, Allison fell into deep thought. Sometimes moods of reflection came upon her and Elise wondered whether her friend questioned her priorities – whether she was really as happy as she appeared. No, perhaps she was just worried about the test. Studying had never been a priority for her and she was probably pondering the consequences of failing.

Elise had smiled when Allison told her how beautiful she was in her wedding dress, but Elise was sure Allison would show her up as a bridesmaid.

Just ahead, a glaring pair of lights swept over the hill. As they neared each other, the lights swerved. Allison flinched and stomped the brake. The screech of brakes almost drowned out Allison’s screams. There was a big truck and even larger noise. Then silence.

To God be all glory. Read more!

Healing Ruth's Mother

“Simon! Simon!” Andrew ran up to their boat, breathless. “We’ve found him! We have found the Messiah!”

Simon looked at his big brother doubtfully. “I’ve never heard an introduction like that before. Come into the shade. You’ve been in the sun too long. Help me prepare this net.”

“No, no. Put that stuff down. Come on. You have to meet Him.” Andrew took the nets out of Simon’s hand and started dragging him away from the boat. “John, you know, the crazy guy who preaches by the river? He said, ‘Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.’ I heard him. Then there was this man…”
“Look, Andrew. You can go meet this latest messiah, but there is work to be done. Someone has to do it, and it looks like me. I want to go home before midnight. Ruth hasn’t cooked supper in days. She’s been taking care of her mother. I’m hungry. Leave me alone.”

“But Simon, only Messiah can take away sins, right? I mean, God and His Messiah? Don’t you know what that means?”

“Yes, Andrew,” said Simon. “It means that this guy is a revolutionary. The Romans will hate him and he’ll stir up trouble like all the others before him. Eventually they’ll catch him and crucify him for treason. And unless you want to be on the cross next to him…”

“He’s for real, Simon. It won’t hurt to meet Him.”

“Fine. This once, I’ll go.” Simon realized his work would never be done with Andrew pestering him. The oldest brother had always known how to get his way. He shoved the nets aside and stomped angrily down the coast. He was a bit curious. Andrew wasn’t the impulsive one. Usually, Andrew would sit down and think things through. Who was this person who had so affected his brother?

After a long walk, Andrew suddenly stopped. Jesus looked at Simon and said, “You are Simon, the son of Jonah. You shall be called Peter.” Then He smiled a knowing smile at Simon’s confusion. “It has begun,” He thought.

This wasn’t right. Where was the fiery sermon? Where was the rally? How could a guy like this, who didn’t say, “Hi. I’m Jesus. I’ve heard a lot about you,” ever dream of defeating Roman regiments?

Over the next week, Peter and Andrew went back to fishing. But they couldn’t stop talking about Him. James and John, the thundering sons of the patriarch fisherman, Zebedee, listened to Peter and Andrew bounce suggestions around. What if Jesus was for real? What if He wasn’t? The sons of Zebedee gave each other looks and shrugged their shoulders.

After the synagogue meeting on Saturday, Peter was home with his wife. Her mother was doing worse, with a high fever. “Simon, you should ask Him. I heard he cast out an unclean spirit. Maybe he can help her. You talk about Him so much.” Ruth pleaded with Peter to go find Jesus immediately.

“It’s Sabbath. He can’t work on the Sabbath.” Peter looked to his mother-in-law. For all his married life ,she had been like his own mother, living with them and cooking for them. Perhaps he should go now, before it was too late?

A knock sounded on the door. “It’s probably Leah. She was going to bring over some soup.” Peter got up and opened the door, hoping his wife’s chatty friend wouldn’t stay long.

“Peter,” Jesus nodded, and walked in. Ruth came out of the side room to see whose was the unfamiliar voice. The look on her husband’s face told her who it was. “I knew He’d come,” she said to Peter. “Let’s ask.”

He nodded his head an looked at Jesus, who stood just inside the door smiling. “Jesus, you are welcome here. My mother-in-law, though, she’s sick. Could you help her – if it’s not a problem?” Ruth already stood beside the door into her mother’s room. Jesus stood over her, rebuked the fever, and smiled. Color filled the old woman’s cheeks. She got up, reaching behind Peter for a basin. She returned passed her stunned daughter to offer the water for the Guest’s feet. Then, while Peter and Ruth worked through their bewilderment, she brought out bread for the Sabbath meal.

“Ruth, sit down. We all know how much you’ve done the past few days I’ve been ill. Have some bread,” ordered her mother. Ruth wept. Peter still stood stiffly in the corner, his eyes searching for some clue from Jesus. Just like that! Jesus spoke – without even touching her – and she was well. Just like that! A prophet like Elijah of old was spending Sabbath in his house.
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