A Sojourner's Confessions

~N.Anne

    A small kid was I when I first heard the story of 'The Prodigal Son ' one Sunday morning, seated on a brown wooden bench in a room where the walls were painted Green.

    At the end of the year, I proudly received the Bible as a gift for scoring the highest in our class... Clap! Clap! Clap!

    As the years rolled by, I listened to stories about Moses, Queen Esther, Joseph, Apostle Paul, the Bleeding Woman, the Crucifixion, and more, not to forget the birth of Christ every December...

    I remember treasuring every gift I was presented with at year's end for being amongst the ones excelling in the annual exam, For almost a decade I was one of those kids who attended Sunday School every Sunday no matter what the weather was, even if I was late by half an hour; I had to be there...

    All grown up and becoming one of the so-called 'Responsible Adults' by society, the tag is always Burdensome. I still see myself on one of those brown benches...

    Who would've thought that I'll be the one telling such contradictory tales TODAY? I've had my fair share of going in and out of the FATHER'S HOUSE, each time vowing never to SOIL my robes again.  I've also admitted DEFEAT many times seeing those MOUNTAINS from afar, BELITTLING His mighty hands. And it is also true my HEART failed to REJOICE when the limelight shifted from me to someone else.

        Sometimes I feel the BLEEDING WOMAN   lives in me but I am FEARFUL to even touch the end of His robes for HEALING! How many times have I DROWNED myself in FAILURE like Peter in that water, viewing LIFE and the FUTURE as nothing but SCARY and FUTILE! It’s true I CRY more in FRUSTRATION than I REJOICE in His GRACE…I’ve FORGOTTEN all about MIRACLES.

        I try to get up on my own and be FREE from those STRINGS but FAIL miserably. Recalling the many adventures I’ve ventured on my OWN, it breaks my heart to admit that I’ve WASTED many YEARS and GIFTS as my HANDS greedily kept HOLDING on to what the WORLD has to OFFER

        The TREASURES from those years now STINGS- I wrote them too well on PAPER but FAILED to write them in my HEART as I grew up.
This evening as I watched the Sun gracefully setting down, I nervously lingered outside the FATHER’S HOUSE, soiled and hungry…
I meekly whispered ‘FATHER’ and out He came running,
EMBRACING me in His arms!

        ‘Ah! Where have you been? And I knew I was finally HOME!


~N.ANNE         
@neingkreo     

            A humble teacher by profession Neingule Kreo writes under the pseudonym N.Anne during her leisure time. She views Art as an echo of God's voice and finds solace in the process whenever she picks her Pen or Palette to create a piece.