She passed the few houses between hers and the end of the street. Turning the corner, she looked up, noticing the beauty of the early morning sky and how the clouds sat in such a way to remind her of the coast. A slight breeze brushed her skin and left a scent of salt water and sunscreen lingering around her. Of course, she was hundreds of miles from the beach. It was a memory of another time grazing upon her senses.
I have always been amazed and, admittedly, a bit intimidated hearing other people pray. Conversing with the Almighty seems to come naturally to my friends—the words dripping off their tongue as calmly and beautifully as wax on the side of a lit taper candle. These prayer veterans don’t seem to stumble over finding the right words like I do. They come before the throne just as they are, wherever they happen to be today. Their prayers sound like a conversation over coffee with a close friend. In this case, the friend is Jesus.
Read more at:
Upheld with a willing spirit,
not with defense or fight.
Upheld with a hopeful outlook,
one of trust and faith.
Upheld above the clouds of darkness,
far from my sins and transgressions.
Upheld so I may be restored
and focus my eyes on the joy of salvation.
Upheld that I may sing songs of praise
to You and You alone.
Upheld and delivered.
After crossing over the tracks on a cooler than average September morning, Charlotte thought she heard the faint sound of a train horn in the distance. She hoped she had heard it. But after looking down the path there was no sign of a train. If there had been, Charlotte was almost convinced she would have jumped into a boxcar.
She swung on the weathered tire swing, letting her stringy long, golden blond hair graze the dirt below. Her jeans she had cut off into makeshift shorts to try to beat the Texas heat, sat perfectly centered on the seat as she straightened out her legs. Pointing her mismatched socked feet and old, too-tight high tops at the blazing sun, she floated through the air.
She was bored. This time of day always bored her especially, during the summer. She called this time between 3 pm and dinner, “time in the land of nothing”. It was too hot to really do anything too active outside unless you could stand to walk the path to Willington Pond for a swim.
She didn’t care for that. Her time at the pond was either early in the morning to go catch minnows and tadpoles, and take a dip if it fancied her, or in the dark of night when she and her older brother Jimmy would go fishing.
Fishing with Jimmy happened a couple nights a week. Those nights were her favorites. They would sit on the bank of the pond, a cooler of drinks, soda for her and beer for him. She was content to sit in silence with him as the lines sat untouched in the water. Most of the time that’s what they did. He never had much to say, but they didn’t need to speak. She learned to love the sound the night brought. It was a symphony of nature that only God could be the conductor of.
She was listening intently to the sound of a bullfrog when he interrupted her.
“Adelaide, did you hear me?”
She had but pretended she didn’t.
“I’m going to ask Ellie to marry me.”
She turned towards him with tear-filled eyes. She couldn’t speak. Her world was just devastated. She dropped her pole and ran home.
© 2020 Raelyn Pracht
Morning symphony –
His creation plays the songs,