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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Cross (as in the Cross of Christ) (08/17/06)
The afternoon crawled in slow-motion. She could sense herself moving but she couldn’t tell if her feet actually reached the ground. People spoke to her but their voices scantly echoed inside her head without being absorbed. Her eyes denied what they saw as the lid of the casket closed over her nineteen year old son.

Killed in an automobile accident three days earlier, she searched for what she could have said more emphatically to coach him about the dangers of drag racing. But young men are invincible.

Where is he now? He was baptized, but is he saved? Why wouldn’t he listen to me and come with me to church? Where is he now? What did I do wrong? Is this really happening? Will he walk in the door tomorrow?

The ceremony at the gravesite was as brief as it was surreal. Did that really just happen?

There was one more thing to do before she could go home and interrogate the walls that had no answers. She needed to go to the site of the accident where he had died to erect a white cross.

Her oldest son and two friends helped her into a car. Only now did she notice that the sky was falling. A torrent of rain beat against the windshield like liquid bullets. The noise was as deafening as the unbelief in the car. Had it been raining like this all along?

Her clothes belied the weather. Others had sheltered her from the merciless deluge with their umbrellas. As always, the rain fell on the just and on the unjust.

Her firstborn gently steered the car to the side of the road as near to the site of the crash as possible. Shovels were snatched from the trunk, along with a hurriedly produced cross. Somehow she knew this would help her. It was something tangible she could do. It was something she was supposed to do.

Maybe it would chase evil spirits away. Maybe it would be a beacon in the darkness for a wandering soul. Maybe it would be a reminder to all traveling the unassuming segment of the road of the sacredness of this ground. Maybe it would shout, ‘don’t take those you treasure for granted.’

The crunch of metal on broken rock promised the task would be a daunting one. And yet, determined young men summoned the strength to make a bed and put a memory to rest. She held the cross as if it was her child. One of them held an umbrella over her. She knelt down and tenderly placed it into the gaping wound in the earth.

Then an odd thing happened. The clouds held their breath as the quartet stabilized the cross with dirt. A hand pulled the sheet of rain-bearers aside to let the always present source of light shine through. Lively beams burst through the mist in the sky, fracturing into a promise of hope. A perfect rainbow spoke to the question of her heart,

“This young man that I gave you to love…is now my son, whom I also love.”

As they drove away, the downpour returned. And a seed of hope was newly planted.
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This article has been read 964 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Glorey Wooldridge
08/25/06
I was immediately drawn into your writing. I felt the pain of the mom losing her son. I always feel sad when I see a little white cross along the highway. You did a great job conveying your story.
Kaye Petts
08/25/06
Well, after I dried the tears....Nice job! I could feel her pain and her hope in the end. Great writing and thank you.

God Bless,
Kaye
TINA GARTON
08/26/06
Wonderfully written. You expressed a mother's pain at losing her child so well you made me cry! I loved the seed of hope line as well.
Kristi Wood
08/29/06
Great imagery...loved the bullets of rain and the wound in the ground. And putting the grief to bed. Very moving! My only concern is that I can't compete with your writing!
Joanne Sher 
08/31/06
Just wonderful - the emotions are so true and raw - and the ending is superb! Excellent - and congratulations on your win!
valerie chambers
08/31/06
You accomplished what I believe is every writer's desire---for the reader to feel. Very well done