for the first time in months, dinah felt the urge to pray.
she hated god, if he was there at all — and if he was, surely he was looking down upon her with folded arms and bags beneath his eyes, a smug grin tugging at his lips. she could see it, his condescension.
wasn't he tired of this? of running her sundered family ragged, of bleeding them dry? of stretching mama (@The Widow Redhawk) thin, of tormenting the mind of @Ava Amara — she had even begun to feel bad for @John, the way he tried so hard to keep them together.
but he was not daddy. he was not judah, malakai or simeon. he was not abel, nor tzedeq, nor ana. he was not even everett, or gramma towhee. to have so many stolen from her, to have everything blown to pieces in quick succession! to face such madness! and for john to still have faith!
and so it was strange, that urge, that call after it had been devastatingly silent for so long. it was as if her bones ached for it, to feel that calmness again; to make her own cathedral out of mud and stone and to sit in silence with god. she didn't want to, oh, how she didn't want to.
she hated him.
she missed him.
one morning, while the forest was still with fresh snow and while dinah's eyes stung with tears that had not yet dried, she sits on the edge of the ashstone cliffs while the sun pokes through the clouds, and she prays.
o heavenly father,
i'm sorry, for whatever i did to deserve all of this. forgive me of my sins and wash me clean with thy river. i come to you now humbly requesting, as your servant, to relieve us.
deliver my mama from pain, i beg of you, o lord. let her find peace and light again. let us have full bellies and warmth through the winter. protect my sister, and watch over my brothers while i cannot.
i repent now for whatever has earned our placement in this purgatory. we feel your wrath, we know your anger, and we have not forgotten your sacrifices.
give daddy peace in his departure to your kingdom. forgive him, too, for he knew not what he did. channel our love for him into your own, o father, i beg!
and, if i may ask one final thing of you, lord;
if judah is out there, if there is any chance that he may still be alive, tell him, too, that i'm sorry.
amen.
she hated god, if he was there at all — and if he was, surely he was looking down upon her with folded arms and bags beneath his eyes, a smug grin tugging at his lips. she could see it, his condescension.
wasn't he tired of this? of running her sundered family ragged, of bleeding them dry? of stretching mama (@The Widow Redhawk) thin, of tormenting the mind of @Ava Amara — she had even begun to feel bad for @John, the way he tried so hard to keep them together.
but he was not daddy. he was not judah, malakai or simeon. he was not abel, nor tzedeq, nor ana. he was not even everett, or gramma towhee. to have so many stolen from her, to have everything blown to pieces in quick succession! to face such madness! and for john to still have faith!
and so it was strange, that urge, that call after it had been devastatingly silent for so long. it was as if her bones ached for it, to feel that calmness again; to make her own cathedral out of mud and stone and to sit in silence with god. she didn't want to, oh, how she didn't want to.
she hated him.
she missed him.
one morning, while the forest was still with fresh snow and while dinah's eyes stung with tears that had not yet dried, she sits on the edge of the ashstone cliffs while the sun pokes through the clouds, and she prays.
o heavenly father,
i'm sorry, for whatever i did to deserve all of this. forgive me of my sins and wash me clean with thy river. i come to you now humbly requesting, as your servant, to relieve us.
deliver my mama from pain, i beg of you, o lord. let her find peace and light again. let us have full bellies and warmth through the winter. protect my sister, and watch over my brothers while i cannot.
i repent now for whatever has earned our placement in this purgatory. we feel your wrath, we know your anger, and we have not forgotten your sacrifices.
give daddy peace in his departure to your kingdom. forgive him, too, for he knew not what he did. channel our love for him into your own, o father, i beg!
and, if i may ask one final thing of you, lord;
if judah is out there, if there is any chance that he may still be alive, tell him, too, that i'm sorry.
amen.
love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices with the truth.
it always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.
but rejoices with the truth.
it always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.
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