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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Ow! (01/07/10)
Scarred Hand


The blinding white of the snowstorm filtered through the blinds and Sarah knew that the throbbing wouldn’t end today. She knew the cold would cause a flood of memories to ride each pulse of blood that flowed to the scar on her hand. She could hear the radio announcer saying, “Allow extra time on your way to work. The roads are treacherous.” But Sarah stayed in her half dream state and drifted back to that hot July weekend just seven months before….

Because she had been recruited to be “chef” for the youth mission trip, she had gotten up before the heavy, humid air of the Kentucky mountain camp had changed from black to grey. Soon the smell of biscuits and gravy floated into the campers and woke the three teenage boys in one camper and the “tweenager” in the camper Sarah had slept in. As the small band of Christian soldiers sleepily slothed from the trailers, Sarah wondered how she had been talked in to giving up a week-end of her summer to “hang out” with the youth from church. At home, the big dream of building a handicap ramp for the Kentucky mission center had seemed reasonable for the small group of Tennessee teens and their few adult supervisors. But as Sarah had looked them over that morning, she was questioning her sanity.

While Sarah was mulling over her decision, the youth director asked, “Do you think you’ll be able to help out on the ramp after you clean-up?”

Thinking, “No way”, but saying, “Sure, whatever you need,“ Sarah was turned from chef to contractor. In a blink of an eye, she had traded her spatula for power tools. And she was on her way to the mission center in the shadowy valley below.

A stooped lady with a gracious smile met them at the door. She reached for Sarah’s hand and whispered, “I’m Jean. We have so many people to help…thank you for coming.” Sarah looked into what appeared to be ageless eyes, but in reality were only a few years older than her own. The work of the center, Sarah remembered, had cloaked Jean with a weariness that made her appear ancient.

Jean then turned to the group of kids. Sarah watched her move feebly around the group, gently talking with each one and slowly introducing herself. As the throbbing in her hand sang out, Sarah remembered how at that moment she had realized that the ramp to the center would also benefit this tired lady.

Then, Sarah smiled into her pillow as she realized how quickly she and Jean had become friends over that weekend. With so much ramp building to complete and so few hands to do it, there should have been little time for friendship building, but that was not the case. Soon Sarah and Jean were laughing like school girls and sharing stories like they had know each other for a life-time.

Sarah wasn’t sure if her memories of her days on the trip as both chef and contractor were blurred by exhaustion or over-shadowed by her happiness at seeing Jean step a little lighter after they had shared a laugh. But then the next throb of pain in her hand took her back to the last day at the center….

The air had been filled with jubilation as the boys began to place the last boards onto the ramp and let the “tweenager“ use the nail gun for the last time….

Each throb of her hand played out a scene for Sarah as if she were watching a movie…..

She had been smiling as she walked toward them….

The boys began cheering for the “tweenager”…

Sarah bent to pick up the scraps of lumber…

She turned back toward Jean to laugh at something funny she had said….

One of the boys punched his buddy in the arm….

The buddy fell into the girl…

She fired the nail gun…

Then the throbbing in Sarah’s hand intensified as she remembered the red hot pain that had blinded her the instant the nail gun shot through her palm.

She looked down at her scarred palm and whispered into the stillness filling her room:

“Thank you God for the work my hands can still do. And thank you God for this reminder of your son‘s love for me.”

Then Sarah, rolled towards the light. Bounced her feet on the cold floor and began another day.
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Member Comments
Member
Date
Colin Swann
01/15/10
Enjoyed your story and liked your style of writing. Thanks - Colin
Debbie Roome
01/15/10
Unusual and well written. I liked the depth of meaning about the scarred hand.
Donna Brown
01/15/10
This story is really deep. It had me thinking about the fact that the nails that Jesus took in his hands were for all of us. Thanks for reminding all of us how much he truly loves us.
Joan Campbell
01/16/10
I enjoyed your story and its reminder of just one small part of the pain Jesus endured for us.
Jan Ackerson
01/18/10
I loved the pacing of the sequence toward the end--it read like flashes of film.

Occasionally the switches between present day and flashback lost me--but this is a strong story, well written.

I've started a class in the FaithWriters forums for Beginner and Intermediate writers. I'd love to see you there--look for "Jan's Writing Basics".