Ungullible

Chapter 9: WHAT YOU CAN'T GIVE ME.

Give. It's a strong word "give" refers to the act of transferring something to someone, whether it be an object, a feeling, a gesture, or an action. The context usually determines the exact meaning. in Luke 6:38 and Matthew 7:7 talks about giving. But what if you feel everything can't be handed to you and no one can give it. Wondering what happens when you can't gain what you want reflects a feeling of longing, frustration, or unmet desire for something that cannot be supplied by the other person. It can suggest a sense of emotional distance or dissatisfaction.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," he said, standing tall in front of me, his presence commanding yet uncertain. I froze as he stood before me. Abbie had mentioned he might come, but why hadn't I thought to tell her to ask him not to? The thought had completely slipped my mind.

"What can I help you with?" I asked, steadying my voice and composing myself.

"Uh, didn't Abbie visit? I don't see her," he said, glancing past me into the house.

"She did, but she's gone now," I replied firmly, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind me.

"Don't you think it'd be better to go inside? You know, because of the rain," he suggested, his tone light but his gaze piercing.

I stood in front of the door, guarding it. "Why should I let a man into my house when I barely know him?" I asked rhetorically, my voice steady.

"Fair point," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "But could I at least stay until the rain dies down?" His eyes met mine, silently pleading.

A voice in my head warned, "Let him in, and he crosses another line," while another whispered, "He'll get sick staying out there in the cold." Caught in the conflict, I decided to lean on faith and principle.

"Come in," I said reluctantly, stepping aside and opening the door. He smiled faintly.

"Thank you," he said, stepping in and glancing around. "You've got a lovely home," he added.

I exhaled deeply, closing the door behind him. "I'll get you some towels to dry off," I said quickly, heading to the storage room.

As I gathered towels, an uneasy tension crept over me. "How could you let a man into your house? You don't know him, apart from being Pastor Matthews' nephew. Can you even trust him?"  What if father comes to the house and sees him here? My mind raced with doubt and fear. Frustrated, I yanked a basket from the top shelf, only for all the towels to tumble down on me. Groaning, I began picking them up.

"I think you look like a cat, a very hairy one. What do you think, Furball?" Jason's teasing voice came from behind me.

"Furball?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow and folding my arms.

"Do you think we're close enough for nicknames?" I said pointedly, tossing him a towel before carefully placing the rest back in the basket. I walked past him without another word, returning to the living room.

There, I noticed he had lit the fireplace. The warm, flickering glow filled the room giving the place a firelight shimmering, a constant dance of amber and gold, warming both body and spirit. The room was filled with the comforting glow its flickering flames softening the darkness I didn't know existed outside of me, softening the harshness of the storm outside and even the quiet darkness within me, amber and gold light danced on the walls, creating an atmosphere of calm. Jason's clothes, however, were still soaked through.

"I'll get you a change of clothes," I announced, turning to leave. As I headed to my father's room, a troubling thought lingered. Why does he bring this strange sense of comfort whenever he's nearby? I stood in front of the door with uncertainty and fear. 'I've never entered this room after that day