If you've been wondering where I've been with my book, Redeemed on Tucker Street; well, here I am! I have finished the first great movement of the plot, and so I have been editing and polishing. I'm only about a quarter of the way done, but I like to work my longer writings in pieces. I also have added more of a preface and also a dedications page, since this work should definitely not be entirely credited to me!
CHAPTER EIGHT: A Beacon
I chewed on the corner of the pen in my hands and squinted at the print on the pink sheet of paper in front of me. My neat handwriting, filling the blanks on the page, showed signs of my trembling hand.
I sighed and got up.
Ding. Hesitatingly, I tapped the bell on the counter. The secretary’s smiling face appeared.
“All finished there?” At my nod, she went on. “Nicole will be with you shortly.” She smiled again.
“Ah, okay,” I stuttered, faintly.
In reality, Kenny’s name is Carlos.
Carlos Sandoval.
Not sure where I got started calling him Kenny. I guess I always did like the name, and it just fit. Kenny was short, sharp-featured, and pretty much the only reason I didn’t drop out of school the minute I turned sixteen.
(NOTE: some of this is repeat, just want to post chapter by chapter. Had to finish Chapter 1, so here is the entirety of that. Currently working on Chapter 2, so stay tuned.)
A BROKEN HOME
I heard the door slam solidly behind me, and took the stairs two at a time. I dashed through the pouring Gulf Coast rain to the bus stop.
“Hey.” I nodded in the general direction of an older gentleman sitting on the bench, inches from the pouring rain. “You doing okay today?”
I looked out at the vast sea before me. It was dark and foreboding, dangerous and cruel. My eyes traced the distant horizon, looking for anything—a leakage of light, a weak beam of the sun, a signal of hope. Straining, I saw nothing. The sea churned in a terrible, thunderous, and unearthly roar. It frightened me.
I turned and looked behind me. Surely there was a mistake. This is not how I had imagined my calling. But the road that snaked behind me, plain, unmistakable, and well-worn, was mine. My life’s journey—my calling—had led me here.
God calls all people that believe in him to tell others about his glory. Many people do not believe that this call applies to them anymore. Our whole Bible constitutes a long story of God’s heart for missions and a call for every believer to take an active part in sharing the gospel. Everyone knows the New Testament “Great Commission” verse, “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit” (Matt 28:19-20 NASB).
This was written after our trip to Yemen this summer... not very good, but I liked the way it turned out.
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Scattered qaat leaves beneath my foot,
Veiled women dressed in black.
People jabbering in Arabic around me.
Welcome to Yemen.
Open-doored Dibabs driving by,
Little boys kicking a ball in the street.
Stray cats sitting under the chicken coop.
Welcome to Yemen.