Walking With My “Father” – A Short Story

In September of last year I wrote this short story and posted it on a separate blog. It was the first time I really posted any of my short stories. So I thought I would post it here. Praying it will encourage!

 

 

Sometimes in life I head down the beach while being carried by my Father. His strong arms are grasping me, protecting me and I feel safe and loved. I began to feel confident in His grasp and decide to walk on my own, thinking I have the strength. He puts me down and walks beside me. I check occasionally to make sure He is still there, seeing his feet striding in rhythm with mine. I begin to turn my gaze and attention to the world around me, seeing the beauty that it beholds. No longer looking back, because I can still feel His presence, I become enthralled by my surroundings. I hardly notice the beach receding slightly now.  The trickling water that was licking my toes before is now biting at my ankles. I feel no fear, for I still feel Him close and my distractions have consumed me. Suddenly out of nowhere I slip on some glass and cut my foot. My Father reaches down to lift me again, but I brush Him away, knowing I can deal with it for confidence is raging. The water has turned icy now and it stings my laceration and swallows my knees. Yet I am still too preoccupied and confident with the world before me.  I am quickly knocked back by a stinging in my legs produced by something strong in the water below.  As I cry out in pain I feel a faint touch of my Father. I can tell He is farther away as his fingertips touch my shoulder for me to turn so that He may once again carry me. But I ignore Him this time, as my independence was being replace by anger that He has let me be harmed by these things in the water.  The beauty now starts to fade as I realize that the water is now enveloping my waist.  I become confused and frustrated that my Father would let the water come this far. I was now shivering with cold and the setting in of fear. I now look around and see nothing. The beach is too far and He is not there. I begin to think that maybe He was never there. That my Father was never with me. Sharks have joined me and darkness is encroaching. My fear becomes terror and I realize the water has swept me out to where I cannot feel the ground below. Waves are crashing loudly in my ears and I struggle to stay above water. “Where are you?” I cry out. Yet all I hear is laughing from beyond the break. Absurd laughing. I realize this is it, this is where I will die. Cold and alone and away from the light and warmth of the beach and my Father’s arms. I struggle to find the shore but I don’t have the strength. “Please help me Father!” I look up and I can spot a small line of white – the beach? The stinging of the cuts and the harshness of the waves have calmed slightly and I can make out someone on the horizon of the sand. My Father? “Come Back” I hear. It IS my Father. He has not gone! I suddenly realize it was I who swam away. I who let go. Not Him. If I hadn’t let go of Him on the beach, the cuts and the stings may have been not happened or could have been calmed. The waters would not have brought me fear or discomfort. I cried out to Him for help and suddenly He was there. The waters had not receded nor the sharks rescinded, but He was there and he was holding me. Slowly He started walking towards to the light and warmth of the beach. The sharks were now diminishing and the fears were dissipating. Soon I was back on the beach, warm, safe and comforted. I looked up into His loving eyes, with my Love for Him now exceedingly more. I realized the lessons the I had learned and I thanked Him for His mercy and grace. And above all for His forgiveness for me leaving Him, knowing He would forgive me and not let me go again until, of course, that day I will knowing again leave His arms. For I am a stubborn sinner.

“Come to me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matt. 11:28

Funny enough…I found a favorite band of mine – PLUMB – a few months ago, and I came across their song “Drifting” and it completely encapsulated my short story.  Funny how those things work sometimes. But it is an amazing song …here is a video where you can hear the song.

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