Beneath the Weathered Beams | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Beneath the Weathered Beams | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marilyn Meiners
09/09/25
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The old stable sat at the edge of the field, weathered and gray, a sentinel watching over the land. Its roof sagged slightly, but the timbers still held strong, as though determined not to give in to the years. The wind whistled through the cracks, tugging at Emma’s coat as she drew it tighter around her shoulders. Each step toward the stable felt heavier than the last.

This place had once belonged to her father—a place alive with laughter, labor, and life. She remembered the clatter of hooves as horses stamped restlessly in their stalls, the playful bleats of goats demanding attention, the chickens fluttering across the yard tables, pecking at every crumb of scattered grain. Today, the stable stood hushed, waiting for her.

Emma had not stepped inside since the funeral three days ago. The pain was still raw, pressing in like a bruise that would not heal. Their kindhearted neighbor had tended the animals in the meantime, but today the responsibility fell on Emma’s shoulders.

Pushing the door open, the familiar scent of hay, earth, and leather wrapped around her. Memories surged before she could stop them—her father’s hearty laugh echoing against the rafters, his rough hands lifting her onto Midnight, the old bay horse. She had felt like a princess then, safe with her knight by her side.

A lump rose in her throat. This farm, once his kingdom, was now hers. She wasn’t sure she wanted it.

A faint bleat echoed from the far stall, pulling her back to the present. The goat—her father’s favorite—peeked out, eyes searching, almost questioning. Emma’s chest tightened. She moved toward it slowly. The goat, Maggie, nudged her palm with a warm, insistent push. Emma let out a shaky laugh through her tears.

For a fleeting moment, the stable was not just a building. It was a vessel of memory, a place where voices lingered in every sound, every smell, every bleat. Midnight let out a soft, mournful neigh, as though acknowledging the grief. Emma realized the animals, too, felt the absence. They had lost their master; she had lost her father.

That evening, she sat at the kitchen table. Bills lay scattered across its surface, a storm of numbers she barely understood. The more she tried to make sense of them, the heavier the weight pressed down on her chest. Finally, she dropped her head onto her arms. “Dear God, what am I to do?” she whispered. The burden seemed unmanageable.

Her hand brushed against the Bible that had always sat nearby. Opening it, she found the page her father had last read, the chapter marked with a blue ribbon a verse underlined in red pencil: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”

Tears stung her eyes as she whispered aloud, “Lord, I am afraid. I feel so lost. I don’t know what I’m doing. But You are strong, and You will guide me. I cannot do this alone. Please give me your strength.”

The next morning, Emma returned to the stable. The crisp air carried the scent of hay and frost. She began tending the animals with steadier hands and a calmer spirit. Each bleat, each clatter of hooves, reminded her of purpose. Maggie pressed close, as if encouraging her. Midnight nuzzled her palm, his dark eyes gentle. Even the chickens seemed at peace, hopping cheerfully along the old picnic tables in the yard, pecking with quiet diligence.
Something had shifted. The stable, once a place of sorrow, became a place of resolve. She could not bring her father back, but she could honor him by carrying on the work he had loved.

Later that evening, Emma returned to the kitchen table. The bills were still scattered, but this time she didn’t see only problems—she saw possibilities. She gathered the papers into neat stacks, her fingers resting on the familiar pages of the Bible. Whispering softly, she said, “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.”

And she knew it to be true.

In the stable, He was there—her Shepherd. She was no longer alone. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Emma felt peace settle over her like a warm blanket. It was a peace only God could give.

The work ahead would not be easy. But as Emma looked toward the stable through the window, she whispered, “With You, Lord, all things are possible.”

Scripture: Joshua 1:9 and Psalm 23:1 from ESV

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