My attempt at writing an otherwise 3rd person entry in 1st person. I think it started off artistically better than it ended, and I DEFINITELY shifted tense part-way through and didn’t feel like fixing it, but the message is there. I might keep adding to this since I felt like I rushed the ending a bit……… or re-write it in the 3rd person cuz I like writing that way better. ha.
In a tattered, weather-worn dress, I ran through the woods. It was pouring, and I needed shelter. As I continued to run, dim lights began to dot my vision before me. Though the trees still dip down and obscure my view, I realized that these lights must belong to a magnificent house.
And what a house it was! As I drew nearer, more and more lights come into focus. I came to an abrupt stop as I stood point blank in front of the mansion. My words were lost as I’d never seen such a sight in my life.
But I wouldn’t find shelter here. My hair was matted against my face, my clothes a mottled mess of mud and rain, clinging to me like a leech, my skin is caked with dirt and blood. No, I didn’t belong here. I should leave before anyone notices me staring from the yard.
As I turned to leave, I heard the front door of the luxurious mansion open. I wanted to run for it, but I just stood frozen, unsure what would happen next.
“Won’t you come in?” a kind voice called.
I turned around to meet him eye-to-eye. There wasn’t much to this man. On any other day, I probably wouldn’t have noticed him or remember his face. But as I stood only yards away from shelter, his face would be one I would never forget.
“It’s pouring out here!” he called again. Only then did I realize I was staring. “Come in and warm yourself up!”
Without passing another heartbeat, I tugged up my tattered skirt so I could run easier and bee-lined for the house.
Once inside, I was overwhelmed by the smell of roasting meats and fragrant wine. Warm, pillowy bread had just come out of the oven somewhere and was being taken to the guests for their sampling. I stood at the door, taking in the sight of so many well-dressed, smiling people, and all I could think about was how much I didn’t belong here.
My rescuer was whisked away almost instantly as many began to bombard him with a myriad of questions from his opinion on the wine, to his opinion of the house, to his opinion on some woman’s dress and hair. I was left alone at the entrance of the house, trying to ignore my hunger – hunger for food, for acceptance, for hope. I continued to observe while ignoring the disgusted looks on the faces of those who bothered to look my way.
From what I was able to gather from floating chatter, my rescuer’s name was Jesus, and this party was held in His honor. Exactly what He has done to have such an extravagant party was not the question. It was more like what hasn’t He done? Among the guests in the ballroom was a man who spent his entire life blind who received his sight from Him and a woman who had bled for twelve years who was healed by just touching His clothes. Then there was a soldier whose son was healed through his belief and a man who was once disabled, dancing and laughing with his two friends.
Some others seemed skeptical of this man, attending this event with the intent on learning more about Him in their own way, for their own intentions. Some scoffed at the mention of His stories. Others were curious. These people stood in my general area, looking into the ballroom.
Eventually, the man of the hour walked toward us, inviting the spectators to join in. Some eyed Him warily; others ignored Him completely.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Him.
There was a radiance from Him that I couldn’t quite figure out. It seemed to be coming from His very soul. The smile in His eyes was as handsome and inviting as the one on His face.
Still, others refused His invitation to join Him.
Then His gaze shifted to me.
“How about you?” He said. Then He extended His hand toward me. “Will you dance with Me?”
I couldn’t help but stare. Me? Wet and pathetic-looking after running for hours, days, in the rain? Dancing with this amazing and wonderful man?
His hand lingered in the air between us as I realized I hadn’t given Him my answer. As much as I wanted to throw open the door and run back out into the rain so that all of the nicely dressed people wouldn’t have the pleasure of staring at and pointing at and mocking me as I stood next to this Man in all His radiant splendor, my curiosity and attraction to Him overpowered all other thought.
Slowly and shyly, I slipped my hand into His and allowed Him to lead me to the ballroom.
As we began, my steps were awkward and heavy, stumbling over my feet and His multiple times.
“Let Me lead,” He whispered.
I looked at Him as a warm smile drew across His face. A flush rose to my cheeks as I turned away and nodded. Soon, all else was cast from my mind as I followed His graceful steps around the room.
Then suddenly, a voice cried from outside the ballroom.
“Look at Him! What kind of King associates Himself with the likes of that?”
At that, the crowd outside the room cackled with furious laughter. It was then that I realized how different we were. It was then that I came back to reality.
I look for the first time in what seemed like ages at my mud-stained dress, remembered my disheveled hair that hung in clumps and caked with dirt, my blistered feet and cut up skin from all the times I ran and fell.
It wasn’t good for a man with His reputation and standing to be seen with me. I began to loosen my grip on His hand and shoulder when He suddenly tightened His hold on me.
“You’re here with me. I invited you, so don’t think about everyone else here.” His voice was like diamonds – beautiful yet strong. He continued dancing with me as though nothing ever happened, spinning me and whirling me around and across the floor.
As the music drew to a close, He led me to a room filled with the most beautiful gowns I’d ever seen.
“Choose one,” He said simply.
My gasp caught in my throat as I registered what He had just said to me. He smiled and then left the room so I could change and clean up.
After dressing and deep cleaning, I retraced my steps back to the ballroom. I looked left and right, trying to spot Him. Then in the sea of faces, I saw Him – eyes warm with kindness and love, a smile laced with joy and pride. I gathered my courage and walked up to Him.
“Will You dance with me, my Lord?” I asked.
His smile stretched even wider as He held out His hand toward me. As we danced, I couldn’t help but think of how much this Man changed my life in such little time. Earlier in the evening, I was running through the woods in the biggest storm I’d ever encountered and covered head to toe with exhaustion and dirt from my journey. And now I’m in the most lavish house I’d ever seen, dressed in a beautiful gown and dancing with my Savior.
“Why me?” I asked.
He tilted His head slightly as if considering my question. “You accepted my invitation.”
“That’s it?” I was quite confused to say the least.
“You trusted Me to shelter you, and you took my hand and danced with Me.”
I lost all my words as I listened to His answer.
“Now, will you let me into your heart like I’ve taken you into Mine?”
As tears began to stream down my face, all I could do was nod and nod vigorously.
“I love You,” I blurted out. I was a little embarrassed having just met the Man not too long ago, but there’s no denying that in my heart, I truly loved Him for saving me.
“I love you, too,” He answered. “Since before you were born, I loved you.”
I knew from this that I wasn’t just a dirty girl in a nice dress. He’s washed me clean of the dirt that clung to my heart.
This Man saved me from the rain and gave me shelter. And He proceeded to save me by giving me identity and a foundation to stand on.
All I can be is thankful, and all I can do is serve Him. And with my whole heart, my whole mind, my whole soul, and my whole spirit, I will love Him because He loves me with all He is.