Sunday, July 28, 2013

I'm home!

Camping was a wonderful vacation! I was hoping to update more about our vacation fun but alas I was too busy. I shall post more about our fun as the week progresses. 

I did finish Algebra 1 on my vacation! Very happy! :~D

I also wrote a couple short stories and I'd like to share the best one. 

The Continuous Rain
By Moriah Peters

He stared out the window. The early morning rain fell long and hard. It had been raining like this for the past 2 weeks. The surrounding area was drenched. His farm and crops would be ruined if there wasn't any dry spells. A sigh filled his depressed spirit with a dose of weariness. He depended on his crop and if it didn't make it, he'd loose everything. His adoring wife walked in. Her perfume filled the room with lilacs and spring. She walked over and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her presence bought a comfort in his heart. No matter what happens he will always have her with him.
The morning seemed longer than any other morning. The rain was discouraging and emotionally wrecking his heart. The rain had been a blessing, but now it felt like a curse. It was depressing and dreary. He woefully went to work with a heavy heart.
That same afternoon, there was a small patch of sunlight. 2 minutes of sweet, blistering, gorgeous, sunshine. The sunshine lifted his spirits. His wife was in the middle of kneading a batch of dough when he grabbed her hand covered in dough into his calloused hand barn and they ran outside together and danced in the sunshine. He picked his wife up and twirled in the sunshine, laughter filling them. But as soon as the sunshine came, it left. It poured.
He sighed as he went back into the barn, after walking his wife to the door of the house. The rain had immediately drenched his clothes, soaking him to the bone. He mucked the stalls, and restocked the hay. Then he walked to the back of the barn to the tool bench. He looked at the wood that lay on it. It was rich with aroma and as strong as oak. He gently lifted the wood, examining it with an eagle eye. He sat down at the bench and began to work with it.
It was nearing supper time when he emerged from the barn. He had fed and milked the cows, checked the chicken coop, and worked with the wood. His wife greeted him with a smile as his came in, as before, soaked to the bone. She sent him upstairs he came back down she was ladling hot creamy potato soup out of the pot. The pot was a special pot, passed down through generations. It had seen many generations and many stews. He smiled at the thought, and then quickly the smile disappeared as he thought about the fact that it was part of the farm.
The supper was filling and delicious, warming him inside and out. He enjoyed chatting with his wife about this and that. He went out one last time to check the barn to make sure it was set for the night and he walked back to his home in the pouring rain. He dodged puddles as he walked through the farmyard.
He suddenly stopped, exactly halfway between the house and the barn. He looked up at the dark clouds and pouring rain. His thoughts whirled. They whirled as fast as he could piece them together. Falling to his knees, he poured his heart to God. His feelings, his worries, his family, his wife, his farm, his house, and the old family cooking pot. As he got up, the rain was falling softer. When he got to the door of his house, where his lovely wife awaited with a towel to dry him off, he stopped. Turning around, he and his wife stared in astonishment. The clouds were breaking up, the rain was ending and the sun was just about to set. He looked at the sun set as a brilliant rainbow spread across the sky. 
He turned to face his wife, their faces mirrored the same smile: a smile of peace and hope. God was always in control. He leaned down and gave his wife a kiss. Then they ran outside laughing, dancing, and chasing each other with the knowledge God is still taking care of them. As they neared the barn he pulled his wife inside and showed her the piece of wood. With it he carved a small sign that said, “God's the farmer, I'm just a guest.”
The End


2 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you very much! I have written one book, and have the beginnings of another but I don't feel very inspired to keep going. I have written a play, and several short stories. I think I like writing short stories the best. :)

      Delete