Hire
Writers
Editors
Home Tour About Read What's New Help Forums Join
My Account Login
Shop
Save
Support
E
Book
Store
Learn
About
Jesus
  

Four Ways For A Christian Writer To Win A Publishing Package HERE



The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge

BACK TO
CHALLENGE
MAIN

INSTRUCTIONS

how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level

ENTRIES

submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners



Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.





TRUST JESUS TODAY

TRY THE TEST



Share
how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Where Angels Fear to Tread (not about the book) (09/08/11)

TITLE: Smell the Jasmine
By Donna Emery
09/12/11


 LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
 ADD TO MY FAVORITES

It was my turn again, today.

All of us take turns caring for Bonnie. She’s loud, rude and demanding; the patient no one wants to take care of. She finds fault with everyone. Each aide takes care of Bonnie one day, each week.

The first time I took care of her, I went in with Serena. Serena told me: “Just do your job. Let her say whatever she wants to say. Listen to what she says about the way how she wants to be positioned and do that. We’ve all got to take turns working with her.”

Needless to say, I was scared stiff.

My first surprise was Bonnie’s blonde curly hair. I’d heard she was younger than the other residents, but wasn’t really prepared for blue eyes and blonde hair. I didn’t have time to think about it, because she reacted to me right away.

“How long have you been here?” she growled. Her voice startled me, too. She’s got breathing problems, so she gets short of breath when she talks.

“I’ve been here a month,” I answered. Her eyes seemed to size me up. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she demanded. Slowly, I approached her. I put down the towels and opened her nightstand to get her washbasin.

“Do you really think I’d keep my things in that awful place? My stuff’s in the dresser. Go get it.” She growled even more menacingly. Startled, I looked at Serena. She nodded her head; this was what she’d meant.

I walked over to the dresser. I had to fight tears; I wasn’t used to being treated this way. The other residents could be mean from time to time; but none spoke with such vindictiveness. In the dresser, I found a cake of jasmine soap, along with jasmine lotion and jasmine powder.

“You like jasmine,” I blurted, as I approached the bed.

“Well, no kidding, Sherlock; I like jasmine. I also like getting my bath done sometime this year. So, get busy.”

It stung; as if she’d slapped me. I blinked and looked at Serena. There was a shrug in her eyes and I swallowed my misery and began her bath. I love jasmine and might have enjoyed using the scented stuff; but Bonnie kept up a steady barrage of precise instructions which never included a kind word.

By the time she was bathed, lotioned, powdered and sitting in her chair, I knew better than to expect thanks. Bonnie merely grunted and told me I hadn’t messed up too badly.

After that, I took care of Bonnie once a week – just like everyone else. I tried humming while I worked; it hurt her ears. I tried being quiet and following her directions; she claimed I ignored her. I resigned myself to knowing it was only one day a week.

But today, as I was leaving her room, I saw a picture of a handsome teen on her window. He seemed to be about my own son’s age. Before I could think, I asked her about him.

“He’s my son, Kirk,” she growled.

She had a son? “How old is he?” I asked.

“What is this; ’20 Questions’? He’s fourteen. He lives with my parents. End of discussion. Get out.” I did.

In the break room, I asked Serena about Bonnie’s son. She told me she’d heard about him. “I’ve never seen him – or anyone else – visit her.”

Her son is 14; the same as my Andre. She doesn’t want to talk about him –but it must be awful to have to live in a nursing home and have people bathe you and do your personal care; when you want to be out dancing or walking in the park – but especially if you can’t even take care of your own child.

If I couldn’t take care of Andre….my heart melted for Bonnie, just a little bit.

“It must be hard for her,” I ventured. “I mean… having a son who she never sees. That might be part of why she’s so unhappy.”

“Whatever,” countered Serena. “She’s just mean.”

“It feels like being in a battle,” I sighed.

Serena smirked. “Too bad we can’t wear armor.”

But that made me think... I can bring some armor to this battle. The next time it’s my turn, I’ll go in; covered in prayer. It may not stop her comments, but maybe next time; I’ll be able to smell the jasmine.


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.


This article has been read 279 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Carol Penhorwood 09/15/11
Thought provoking...serving as Jesus taught us. Attitude is a choice, isn't it?
Margaret Kearley 09/17/11
A really good story and right on topic. I would love to know more - and to hear if the MC, through prayer and ongoing love, was able to see a breakthrough. Good writing.
Verna Cole Mitchell 09/17/11
This is a very well-told thought-provoking story. The jasmine was a good symbol for the sweetness needed by the nurse.
Linda Goergen09/18/11
I agree with and echo all the above comments! I didn’t want this story to end, it felt like I was just getting into it, I too wanted to know more. Oh well, I guess I will just imagine a happy ending for Bonnie and her nurses! LOL Great job!