Lenten Writing Project Reboot 2020! Writers' Reflections in the Wilderness of Lent
Words of Faith
Spirit to Spirit Writing Project
The word Lentcomes from an old English word meaning lengthening of days. In Christianity, it refers to the time before Easter, traditionally observed through repentance and learning. It's a season to be intentional about changing and growing. Some people give up items to create space and time for new life and habits to grow. Instead of giving something up, I invite you to try to commit to answering these writing prompts each of the 40 days of Lent. The discipline it takes to set aside time each day to reflect and write about God and your relationship with spirituality is a journey that you will emerge from with a renewed spirit. Every writer has their own special voice to add to this project, whether poetry, prose, essay, thoughts, lists, or through comments, prayer, and encouragement.
How do I participate? Each day, a writing prompt will be posted. A prompt is a question or statement that is meant to inspire your thoughts in whatever genre you feel moved to write. Post your reflections as a comment under each day's prompt (for further instructions, see 'How To Post' on the right side of the page). It is up to you if you write, read, or pray along with us each of the 40 days of Lent or just drop in from time to time when the spirit moves you to participate. Writing regularly is a discipline that many writers struggle with and this is a way to involve that discipline as a Lenten practice. Through writing and leaving encouraging words for others in this project, we become a supportive spiritual writing community
Friday, March 6, 2015
Women's Stories From the Old Testament
Lenten Writing Prompt #13
Who is a woman character of the old
testament that is especially significant to you? Is there a part of her story that is missing? How do you think that the missing part of her story would have gone?
Are you listening to me, God of Jacob? Can you hear me? Are you even there? Or are you like the stone gods I used to worship - immobile and mute? Open your ears and listen to me!
I gave up the old ways for you! What I knew to be truth, what I understood, what I trusted, what comforted me, what gave me hope and strength - I left it behind because I trust the man I love. And he trusts you.
Jacob tells me the stories. In the still of the night, when the world is quiet, and it is only the two of us, he tells me about you. He tells me you protected him. He tells me of your promises to him, his father, and his father's father. He tells me the fulfillment of these promise lies in him, in us. He tells me you are the creator, that you are my creator, that you know me. He tells me you have many blessings in store for us. Our children are his hope.
So, tell me, Promise Maker, where are these children? Where are these blessings? Why did you bring us together? Is this a test? Have I not proven myself to you? What more could you want?
Do you know what I think, Creator? I think you ask too much! I think you know nothing at all of what it is like for those you have created!
What do you know of being a girl child? To be valued only as property? To work every bit as hard as the boys but without any of the reward? We wait only to be passed on from our father to another man. And rather than being united in our sorrows, we are competitors.
My sister, who was my closest companion and dearest friend is now my fiercest rival. I hear what they say in whispers. "She is beautiful, but her sister..." Leah. Smarter. Wiser. Works harder. More loyal. I hear these words and my heart aches. They say that beauty is fleeting. So I have nothing of worth to give my husband. I am empty.
But what do you know of hurt? Of longing? Of shame? Of the tears I shed? Can you not see? Can you not hear? Do you not care?
You are too far away, God of Jacob! Come down and see for yourself the pain of your children!
There are some things, some stories that are just unbelievable.
She made a promise, that no one would have expected her to keep, no one. Men in fox holes give their lives and futures to God and does anyone expect them to follow through if they survive? I don’t think so. She had trouble conceiving and promised God that the child would be God’s if she could simply (is it ever simple?) conceive.
And when the child was weaned she brought him to the temple and gave him to God’s work. Who does that? Who gives up their child? Who keeps that promise?
If we are wise, we all do. We give our children up to their passions, to their vocations to their spouses to their own families to be their own gift to the world.
Our giving up may not be as dramatic. but Hannah’s gift to us is the call to let our children go when the time is full to be who God is calling them to be.
Single parenting had its challenges, its trials. Her young son seldom lit up the house with smiles. Seamstress work had dried up in the drought. Only faith in Holy One gave the meager hope she sought.
“Come Ari; let us get a bit of wood for the fire.” “Momma, such a sad look, this draught sun makes me perspire.” “We’ve no more in the meal sack, this meal’s our last.” “You mean we’ll have to go on a permanent fast!”
Aleah’s husband in an accident had died four years back, A good man, strong, hard-working, there had been no lack. A year later the draught came with a voracious calm, Ally gathered up her resolve, friends, family a real balm.
The brook had dried, only the well five miles away remained. Daily water walks were hard, most of their energy drained. Her jar of oil would allow one more meal cake to fry, The firewood would be gathered. A stranger did she espy.
“My dear lady, Elijah’s the name, Holy One sent me here.” “Good sir, I’m alone with my son, ‘tis our last meal I fear.” “Holy One’s been watching, in fact sent me to bring hope.” “If you’ll bring me water and a bit of cake, no need to mope.”
“The promise from Holy One quite simple and steadfast” “As long as we endure together, oil and meal will last.” “Believing will bring seeing; can I help with the meal?” “Come rest from the heat, good sir, I understand the deal.”
Ari made the fire with the wood. Elijah rested in the cool, as he could. Ally prepared the meal, enough for three. She made cakes, oil and meal left over, all could see.
Each meal had enough, as the days proceeded. Fear of want slowly with steady movement receded. Elijah found life with Ally and Ari a most satisfying stay. Their faithful support did not Holy One’s promise once betray.
Are you listening to me, God of Jacob? Can you hear me? Are you even there? Or are you like the stone gods I used to worship - immobile and mute? Open your ears and listen to me!
ReplyDeleteI gave up the old ways for you! What I knew to be truth, what I understood, what I trusted, what comforted me, what gave me hope and strength - I left it behind because I trust the man I love. And he trusts you.
Jacob tells me the stories. In the still of the night, when the world is quiet, and it is only the two of us, he tells me about you. He tells me you protected him. He tells me of your promises to him, his father, and his father's father. He tells me the fulfillment of these promise lies in him, in us. He tells me you are the creator, that you are my creator, that you know me. He tells me you have many blessings in store for us. Our children are his hope.
So, tell me, Promise Maker, where are these children? Where are these blessings? Why did you bring us together? Is this a test? Have I not proven myself to you? What more could you want?
Do you know what I think, Creator? I think you ask too much! I think you know nothing at all of what it is like for those you have created!
What do you know of being a girl child? To be valued only as property? To work every bit as hard as the boys but without any of the reward? We wait only to be passed on from our father to another man. And rather than being united in our sorrows, we are competitors.
My sister, who was my closest companion and dearest friend is now my fiercest rival. I hear what they say in whispers. "She is beautiful, but her sister..." Leah. Smarter. Wiser. Works harder. More loyal. I hear these words and my heart aches. They say that beauty is fleeting. So I have nothing of worth to give my husband. I am empty.
But what do you know of hurt? Of longing? Of shame? Of the tears I shed? Can you not see? Can you not hear? Do you not care?
You are too far away, God of Jacob! Come down and see for yourself the pain of your children!
You've captured the lament. Well done.
DeleteI hear you and they are words that it is good for me to hear.
ReplyDeleteUnbelievable
ReplyDeleteThere are some things, some stories
that are just
unbelievable.
She made a promise, that no one
would have expected her to keep, no one.
Men in fox holes give their lives and futures to God
and does anyone expect them to follow through
if they survive? I don’t think so.
She had trouble conceiving
and promised God that the child would be God’s
if she could simply (is it ever simple?) conceive.
And when the child was weaned
she brought him to the temple
and gave him to God’s work.
Who does that?
Who gives up their child?
Who keeps that promise?
If we are wise,
we all do.
We give our children up
to their passions,
to their vocations
to their spouses
to their own families
to be their own gift to the world.
Our giving up may not be as dramatic.
but Hannah’s gift to us
is the call to let our children go
when the time is full
to be who God is calling them to be.
And the pain
and joy of it all
is
unbelievable
We men can only come as close as possible and then support.
DeleteLent 2, Friday
ReplyDeleteAleah and Ariel
1 Kings 17
Single parenting had its challenges, its trials.
Her young son seldom lit up the house with smiles.
Seamstress work had dried up in the drought.
Only faith in Holy One gave the meager hope she sought.
“Come Ari; let us get a bit of wood for the fire.”
“Momma, such a sad look, this draught sun makes me perspire.”
“We’ve no more in the meal sack, this meal’s our last.”
“You mean we’ll have to go on a permanent fast!”
Aleah’s husband in an accident had died four years back,
A good man, strong, hard-working, there had been no lack.
A year later the draught came with a voracious calm,
Ally gathered up her resolve, friends, family a real balm.
The brook had dried, only the well five miles away remained.
Daily water walks were hard, most of their energy drained.
Her jar of oil would allow one more meal cake to fry,
The firewood would be gathered. A stranger did she espy.
“My dear lady, Elijah’s the name, Holy One sent me here.”
“Good sir, I’m alone with my son, ‘tis our last meal I fear.”
“Holy One’s been watching, in fact sent me to bring hope.”
“If you’ll bring me water and a bit of cake, no need to mope.”
“The promise from Holy One quite simple and steadfast”
“As long as we endure together, oil and meal will last.”
“Believing will bring seeing; can I help with the meal?”
“Come rest from the heat, good sir, I understand the deal.”
Ari made the fire with the wood.
Elijah rested in the cool, as he could.
Ally prepared the meal, enough for three.
She made cakes, oil and meal left over, all could see.
Each meal had enough, as the days proceeded.
Fear of want slowly with steady movement receded.
Elijah found life with Ally and Ari a most satisfying stay.
Their faithful support did not Holy One’s promise once betray.
The Rev. Ronald Allen Melver, M.Div.
14.3.15