Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: GATHERING (07/14/16)
-
TITLE: Imperfect | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gary Ritter
07/21/16 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
The two-day trip gave me time to think. I wasn’t big on long-distance driving as my portable oxygen concentrator made it difficult. But I needed to reflect about the circumstances that brought me here. It wasn’t that I hadn’t ruminated on these things before, but never in such a concentrated effort. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea after all. I started feeling sorry for myself and before long got into a lousy mood. That made me question why I was bothering going to this assembly. The truth of the matter was that my life stunk; I’d been brought into this world to be used. I had fleeting thoughts that maybe the organizers had a Jonestown-type surprise planned for all the people like me in this place. I didn’t know if I would refuse the Kool-Aid.
I couldn’t eat breakfast with my stomach churning that morning. People filed into the rented room at the hotel. Few of us spoke and a pall of silence hung over us. My depression seemed to encompass everyone. What were we doing here?
We looked normal, but we weren’t. The organizer came to the mic and made that clear. “Thank you for coming. You may not believe this, but you are special. Your parents decided they needed you.”
A woman two rows in front of me jumped up. “They needed me, all right. So my sister could live.”
Behind me to my left a man with veins throbbing on his forehead spoke in a voice that barely constrained his rage. “You know what I am? A piece of living tissue that’s been used and discarded because my parents don’t need me any more.”
I couldn’t contain myself. “My brother is a perfect physical specimen because of me. They harvested my lung and left me crippled. I’m nothing but damaged goods, used, abused, and thrown away. What do I have to live for? What garbage is this that I’m special?” I sat down, disgusted with myself for coming and then for speaking up. Nobody wanted to hear my problems. Everyone in this place was like me. Worthless, and fit for nothing other than death. Bring on that Kool-Aid, Jim Jones.
“Please, let me talk.” The man in front motioned for quiet. “I am like you. My brother needed a special-blood-type kidney. My parents conceived me in a test tube, hoping to give him life while not bothering to consider what I would become. Over the years my brother needed part of my liver and other organs. I supplied them all. I know the pain you feel.”
“Why did you bring us here?” Another woman, thin and pale, who supported herself on crutches.
“Despair is part of our nature.” His hand gesture brought everyone under his statement. “Each of us was created to bring health, life, and happiness to another. It’s unfair; and it’s unreasonable to release the bitterness in our souls. I wanted to lash out at my fate. So do all of you. Yet for what purpose? Will that make you whole again? Will that restore that which you’ve lost?”
He fell silent and let us think about his questions. Heads began to shake around the room.
“Unforgiveness satisfies only the destroyer of your soul. It never brings restitution and peace. There’s a better way.”
Heads cocked to hear his words. I tamped down my anger, listening.
“Here’s a question for you. If I gave you the key that would transform your life, would you open the door?”
I saw unbelief on faces around me, but I desperately wanted what he promised. I sat straighter, waiting.
“There is one person who can help you, only one. He will take your burden and make it His. Will you give it to Him? His Name is Jesus.”
Several people rose in disgust and stormed out. I stayed. Was this truth? Could my life change? I closed my eyes hoping the answer was yes.
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.
I am sure this story is a reality in different parts of the world. I know some people are killed to harvest their organs or to sell them for money. Harry Kraus, Jr. wrote a book about that topic (I'm not sure if it was Stainless Steel Hearts or another of his books).
Very well written.
Keep churning your provocative winners out Gary!