Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: White (10/29/09)
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TITLE: The White Daisy | Previous Challenge Entry
By cindy yarger
11/05/09 -
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Young love should never die or so the story goes. But hers had. Her young husband was dead, lying not long in his grave. He no longer had a smile for her nor an embrace. All was empty, somehow cold or so she perceived. What meaning had hope when death so cruelly took the young?
The chore was before her. Mow the lawn, a meaningless task that was now allotted to her since he was gone. How she dreaded it and cried a bit before she carried it out. Unbeknownst to her the tears that she shed were gently retained, caressed, and thought over. All she saw was the task, a hollow way to continue on in a life that was just short of unbearable.
She knew the Savior and it was that, that gave her anything at all. Somehow she knew that her pain was understood. It was not diminished. He was in heaven but she was not, she longed for it but could not, would not, seek it of herself. She hoped that the Savior would see fit to call her soon as well. So early in her loss, it was her only shred of true hope and it was the gentlest caress that she could hold. All this walked with her as she mowed across the lawn that she no longer even cared about.
The white daisy had been borne on the wind. The seed had been planted at the right time so that it would be blooming just there and just then. The Savior had known the timing, He had provided the wind to carry the seed. He had known the significance of the daisy, that it could touch the core of the girl. And He did it, through one small white daisy, He touched the girl.
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