Each conference the SCWC has a writing contest in which all conferees are invited to participate. The rules are simple: Write a piece in any form you wish of no more than 250 words based on the topic announced Friday night. The topic for the SCWC*PS 2 event was "Redemption". Rick Peoples of Temecula, CA is this year's runner up author.
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OUR FATHER NEVER beat us without reading scripture. That would be wrong. We recited verses as the blows fell. If we couldn't, it made him madder. The older kids taught us young ones short Gospel. There was nothing else they could do.
Our mother played her piano and sang during those times. Come sweet Jesus. Come. He never did.
At night, we nursed our wounds – Clearasil hides nasty pimples and welts – and made plans to kill him. We never did. We grew up and moved away.
When he was dying, we returned. Eight of us stood around his bed. Gone were the massive arms that made us pray hard. Then he was gone.
My oldest sister picked up his Bible. "We should read something," she said, handing it away.
As the youngest, if fell to me. I scanned his ink notes in the margins for redemption. Maybe forgiveness. Nothing.
Tossing it on the bed next to him, I said, "From the Big Book. Jesus wept."
There is was. My "go to" verse during my "special times" with Dad. My oldest brother laughed first. We all did. When the men arrived to remove my mom's piano from the house, we were still giggling.
Dad's pastor arrived close behind with the hearse. Seeing our grins, he said, "It's nice your father gave you faith, faith that passes all understanding."
My second oldest sister, fingering a faded scar near her left eye as his body was carried out, added, "The Lord giveth. The Lord taketh away."
| Copyright 2005, Rick Peoples. Used with permission. |
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