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TITLE: I submit | Previous Challenge Entry
By Catherine Green
08/07/24
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Thursday

With eager anticipation I scroll down to see the Faithwriting prompt for the week. My usual enthusiasm drops like a hand-held hot poker when I see the word mourn. Unexpectedly, a mist of sorrow shrouds my eyes as I rapidly blink away the tears. I slowly but deliberately shut down the lid of my computer and decide it isn’t for me.

Friday

I’m refusing to think about this five-letter piece of saturating sadness that has settled itself in my heart. It’s hidden from view; concealed from friends and family in the guise of practicality and care.
I want it to lay undisturbed.
I want to bury its ugly head.
I want to pretend its not there.
But by now the waters have been muddied and the word swims around my head in unending circles.
Any objection is futile.

Saturday

My mind tells me to write. It will be cathartic. My feelings scream no!
I don’t want to write about it because it makes it real, reflective and raw.
I don’t want to think about it because it means I have to face it full on…and it hurts.
I don’t want to acknowledge the loss of my father, not because he has passed, but because he is still here and I lose a bit more of him every day.

The seventeen-year-old who signed up as a soldier to live a disciplined and ordered life, now exists in a mind filled with chaos and confusion.
The family man, who taught me to swim, can no longer take a shower.
The adventurer, who tracked to the base camp of Mount Everest, can now only shuffle a few feet.
The creative, who wrote beautiful poetry to those he loved, can hardly hold a pen.
The accountant, who always refused to cook the books, can no longer decipher the numbers on a clock.
And the strong confident man, who comforted me as frightened child, is now scared to be alone.

Sunday

Lord, can you help me? This bland, grey word has opened up a cavern of deep, dark emotions that threaten to overwhelm. I need a touch from you.

‘I will turn your mourning into dancing,’ comes the gentle reply.

And then I remember that day in the hospital when my father, who has fought against the truth all his life asked me, in a moment of rare clarity, ‘what happens when I die?’ I shared with him the simple truth of Jesus and what he needed to do to be saved. The next day he beckoned me over and whispered ‘You know the prayer you told me about, well I prayed it last night!’ Hallelujah!

Monday

I’ve slept soundly and wake early to the sounds of seagulls and crashing waves; a constant reminder of my Creator and the love He has for me. My mind is clear and I begin to type. Jesus is my constant inspiration and because of Him the words are tumbling out. He has led me on a journey of understanding and healing this week, as I faced my fearful fallout of the word mourn.

Tuesday

God has turned things around as He always does. He has clothed me with joy. My tears have been spent and I look forward, with delight, to dancing a wondrous waltz, with my dad in eternity.

Wednesday

I log into the aptly named challenge page and I submit.

This is an ongoing true story. Psalm 30:11 (NKJV)

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