A Short Series _ Part V
A perfect romance between a girl and inner peace.
THE CONFESSION
To be still felt painful. The Girl had walked away from the world expecting relief, expecting clarity and peace to be resurrected. But she sat empty. Void of assurance. And sleepless nights haunted her by the world’s heavy whispers “Where is He? You’ve gone too far. What can you do? Prayer’s don’t give you answers. Your doing something wrong."
The Girl started resenting mornings. Her body heavy, achy. Sitting on the edge of the bed her feet meet the hardwood floor beneath them. A sigh. The shower runs hot filling the bathroom with steam so the vanity mirror cannot show her, her reflection.
“I’m going to go spend time with Him.” The Girl thought to herself. “I’m going to talk to Him. I’m going to confess I thought I knew best and that I was unfaithful having made idols from the things in this world-that they distracted me from Him-that there is no Joy, no peace apart from Him.”
The Girl crosses her right leg over her left and grabbing the flesh colored pantyhose she begins sliding them on her foot, across her French pedicured nails, up to her calf, above her knee, readying herself to go to His House.
“Dressing yourself to look like The Girl He once knew? But you’re not her anymore.”
The Imposter Whispered
“I'm not her anymore.” She repeats his words. A knot in her belly rose to her throat choking her next breath.
Deceitful words dripped from the imposters tongue, “The judgement of those that have faithfully loved Him all these years will be felt despite your attempt to disguise our affair in a costume of modesty.”
She listened to him as she had once before and thought, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The Girl slipped her pantyhose back down her leg and through them in a ball on the bathroom counter. “I’ll go to His House, another day.”
Replacing her intended dress with a pair of leggings and sports bra, her feet were quick to hit the paved road in rhythmic stride. She felt a release of tension as the sweat fell from the pores of her skin and soaked through her attractively dressed, self-assertion.
“A good run clears the mind, breath in the fresh air. Return to Him later, but for now, just be mine.” The Imposter encouraged.
Realizing the familiar, self-sabotaging choice to run away from The Lover of her soul, a pitting guilt settled in her stomach.
The next morning was the same as all others, heavy. Knowing His love letters would nourish her and release her from this trapped emotion she promised herself to spend just a moment with Him as she listened to the last drips of coffee fill her cup. Sitting down with His book she took the first page between her thumb and index finger.
Threatened by her backward glance at her hearts true desire, the dark handsome imposter attempts to seduce her once again,
“Those words are no longer true for someone like you. You don’t have time for this.”
A crippling anxiety tore her fingers from His Book and she was swept away by an overwhelming burden to first prove herself as a virtuous women, worthy of His forgiveness.
Whisking her away from her attempt to return to True Love, The Imposter promises another passionate thrill to satisfy her thirst for inner peace without having to confront her guilt.
Just like in the beginning of their affair, it took The Girl just one taste of temptation to devour the entire day chasing his lies. She provided a perfect meal for her family, restored her home to order, invested her resources into a praiseworthy project, made no exception to work her body so it was strong and defined and volunteered her remaining energy into what was left over in the day. Her light did not turn off by night when her husband laid down to rest, so she could stay up late and prove that she does not eat the bread of idleness. The Imposter seduced her with the idea that she could experience peace from the fruit of her own labor, avoiding the confession of her guilt that burdens her.
The Girl believed a complete distortion of Christs Loving Words that painted the description of A Virtuous Women in His book she had yet returned to. Having spent so much time with the idols of this world and continually relying on herself she forgot that inner peace is from the fruit of the spirit not of her labor . Exhausted by morning, she cries.
God, the enemy’s salty kiss has left me parched, my lips dry and my soul barren. Forgive me. Fill my cup Lord. Until if overflows. Your kindness and love will always be with me each day of my life, and I will live forever in your house.
The fresh air beckons her. Standing at her bay window The Girl takes the index and middle finger of her right hand and twists her hair about in a soothing rhythm. Her eyes focused on the tiny rain drops that gently tap the surface of the lake. Strands of wisdom now replace the auburn streaks that once framed her face during the time she spent smitten with The Endless Summer - The day's devoted to Christ that gave her an inexpressible inner peace- and she watches as the sun rises on another day.