CWRC Anthology

SAVE US NOW, LORD

©2022 By Abby Burrus

Brought to you by the christian writers and readers club.

As the sun sprayed out golden rays over the mountain top, a man leaned up against the door jamb of his cabin sighed with contentment.  His hair streaked with gray and his hands knarled, with wrinkles surrounding his deep golden yellow eyes, showed he was not as young as the day was.  His eyes were such a deep golden color that it could not be called hazel.  

His hands went up as his palms turned toward the sun.  He closed his eyes and tilted his face so that the rays landed on his eyelids.  

"Blessed are You, 

My God and King, 

Who has given me this gift of another day.

Blessed are You, Oh Lord,

For Your coming Redemption,

Of Us,

And all Creation.

Blessed are You, Oh Lord, 

For your mighty works,

For us,

And all Creation.

Blessed are You, Oh Lord, 

For the sun which shines,

And the rain which comes,

Upon us,

And all Creation.

Blessed are You, Oh Lord,

For Your love

For us, 

And all creation."

A smile graced the man's lips as he finished reciting the Blessing of the Morning.  Then he waited, palms still outstretched to capture the sun's rays.  

As he did, the atmosphere changed.  The calm of the morning was turned to charged expectation; the giddiness of a new day to awed reverence.  A Wind came up and the trees bowed in deference to the breath of their Creator.  

The Wind touched the man and he started slightly as he caught his breath.  Then he bowed his head and held his hands up higher.  "Oh." 

The Wind swirled around him to cover him.   "My Lord," he said as his knees went down.  He started to hum and mouth the words of praise. His hands came down, but he was not even aware of it. 

After a half hour, his shoulders shuddered as the Wind stirred.   His brow furrowed as he listened and then moaned.  "Not this, Lord, not this."  His hands clasped as he began to plead.

It is not for your time.

His hands relaxed.  "Then when-?" 

For a time you will not see.   Go in to your quill and paper.  I am going to show you something.

The man pushed himself up and groaned at the stiffness in his knees.  But the Wind compelled him through the doorway and to his writing desk.  It made him curious.  He had received many messages from his Lord before, but this was the first one that was not for right now.

He sat down at the desk and pulled out paper.  His hand reached for the quill, but before he could grab it, he was in another place.

 It was his own village, but not the way he'd left it three days ago.   The sun scorched the ground which was riddled with cracks from no rain. Not a cloud was in sight, though the man instinctively knew it was the time of the year for rain.