Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: STORM (10/05/17)
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TITLE: Prodigal Chimes | Previous Challenge Entry
By Katy Foster
10/11/17 -
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A wind gust swept over Aaron, followed by a distant chorus of music from dancing windchimes. The source of the music, a wooden shed a small walk away, captured Aaron’s curiosity, leading the wayward boy to the shed. The door was jarred open, and wooden windchimes adorned the sides of the walls. An old man sat hunched over with a small wooden plank in his hand. He lifted his old sunken eyes to meet Aaron’s.
“Hello, come on in. You must have heard the windchimes,” he greeted Aaron.
Aaron was intrigued. “Did you make these windchimes?”
“Yes sir; just started eleven years ago. Helps remind me of the words in the Bible and of my momma,” the man kindly answered.
“Your mom liked windchimes, huh?” Aaron conversated, looking around.
“Well, I guess she did; but windchimes are like my mother was, singing softly and sweetly in the air, reminders of life’s joy and goodness,” he smiled.
“You know, as wind grows, like before a rain, the windchimes sing louder, trying to forewarn me of gray days, dark days. Really hard days. Momma did just the same.”
The man bowed his head down in silence for a moment, and then seemed compelled to continue.
“But like the windchimes, Momma’s love for me and her wise instructions were just expected background noise, left unheard. I went on. I moved on. But she’d keep trying,” the old man’s eyes seemed to gaze at his own thoughts.
“I’d unwrap mistake after mistake in my life; doing as I pleased. I heard her, but I wouldn’t listen. So, things were brewing and getting worse. Those windchimes…” he shook his head.
“I remember one day, just as a storm was coming, those windchimes swung around loudly, as if begging me to listen. Just begging. Momma called out as loud as she could for me to take cover. She told me, ‘You can’t live this way! You’ve created a dark life!’
“ 'You’re probably right, Momma,’ I’d agree with her, with no plans to change. The windchimes were trying to tell us that the storm was coming. They were right. The storm came.
“ 'Momma, it’s getting bad outside,’ I said to her, ‘I’m not sure our home can withstand this storm!’
“I needed her then. Momma’s eyes were fixed out the window at the storm, then her response pierced my heart.
“ 'At least you see its power now. It’s strong and it’s only getting stronger, son,’ Momma cried. A boom of thunder and lightning sent Momma and me both in a frozen fear.
“ 'Oh, Momma. I’m sorry. I never meant… or thought…’ "
The old man’s voice cracked in sorrow. Aaron stood respectfully still and quiet.
“I looked in Momma’s eyes, so tired and loving; so patient as they listened to me, although I never stopped to listen to her.
“On that stormy night, I fell to my knees and wept. I whispered, ‘I repent, Jesus. I’m Yours,’ and the windchimes, for a second, were silent. Yet, I realized, right at that moment, that the song continued in my heart. It continues today, and it has never stopped.
“The windchimes started to calm, yet still singing, as if relieved that we persevered through the storm. They were singing a praise song. I could tell.”
He looked up at Aaron, and then back down with humility, and continued.
“You know, on sunny days, those windchimes would gently whisper, ‘I love you!’ for no reason at all. I hadn’t done anything. Nothing right, anyway. Those windchimes reminded me of hope and love. Momma often quoted verses that I knew she truly felt in her heart. She so desperately and sweetly wanted me to hide them in my heart, too.
“Now, when I hear the windchimes, I think of Momma, and how she always tried to teach me so sweetly. She sang me the truth, and it keeps me singing now, too.”
The old man reached over, picked up some windchimes, and held them out for Aaron.
“These are for you, son,” the old man offered.
Aaron came closer to his uncle’s home with long steps, and he could see his mother standing outside, as if waiting for Aaron. She heard the windchimes, and smiled in Aaron’s direction.
“Mom, these are for you.”
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