A whisper came on the wind, reminding her of bitter days. Bitter? Yes, but the memory colored the present. It made her grateful. Now the hearth was full of firewood and little shoes and drying socks. Bellies were full. Tears had been wiped away. Songs sang themselves. Had the battle been won? Truthfully, she had not really expected to win, but here they were. It had been won, the long war of mankind over the centuries, eons and days and forever. It was done. She was tired, but danced anyway and rejoiced and stood astonished at the sound of peace. They had never heard it before, this pause, breath, the still, soft whisper that reminded them all what they had been given. It was good.
How often bad memories have had good endings -- it just takes time.
ReplyDeleteI am reminded that we're not promised perfect days but that God will make each day what it needs to be.
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Betsy
This makes me think of a sign I saw recently that said "I still remember the days that I prayed for the things I have now". It's a great reminder.
ReplyDeleteI love that.
DeleteA hopeful story. You are such a good writer.
ReplyDeleteDank je wel. Dit vind ik goed om over door te dromen
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteWords of hope ... thank you.
ReplyDeleteAll the best Jan