Pearls and Presence, Chapter Five- Anticipation

 I prostrate myself before these idols, here in the tallest room of the tallest tower of my empire, and I forget about everything except my worship. This is my favorite time, I live for this and I am always hungry for it. I come empty and leave full, and yet I am never satisfied. I fall to my knees in reverence and bow my head to the floor, arms outstretched and palms turned upwards. My hands are open, ready to receive whatever my idols will give to me. I wait for even the slightest sign of life. I wait for them to love me, to validate me, to give me a name and a purpose and an identity. I worship in expectation. I want them to be the community that I desire.

~*~

She spent the rest of the morning cooking up a thick broth of stew. The rich aroma of gravy and vegetables was hanging in the air.  She was working with a pot that was hanging over the fire, which had been made with only one log so that the flame stayed low.  Crossing the room, she periodically looked into the pot and stirred it.  A dark, golden liquid was simmering pleasantly in the black cauldron. She watched as thick pieces of seafood and chopped vegetables kept rising to the surface, only to sink back down again to the hot depths below.  Reaching for the wooden spoon which was resting against the stone fireplace near her feet, she tasted the stew. 

It was warm and rich, and Mara suddenly realized how hungry she was.  For a moment, she considered forgetting about going back to the beach in the evening.  She could tend her roses, enjoy the warm meal, can the rest of the stew to store in the cool of the well, and then spend the remainder of the evening in her little house with a good book or a chance to write something new.  Definitely more inviting than the strange treasure wrapped in a cold and slippery mess of seaweed.

But once again, Mara remembered the glow of the pearls and the mysterious name written there.  For the first time in her life, she was experiencing the thrill of strange new hope. It came to her when the word “Tirzah” had first left her lips, when the gulls were watching and the sea was listening with rapt attention.

It was a name that called to her from another lifetime ago, one that she had heard in the past. She had forgotten all about it- it had rolled into the gutter of her memories, dirty and abandoned. The name Tirzah now called to her soul.

Setting the spoon down where she left it next to the fire, Mara turned and crossed the room to the ladder which led her to the upper bedroom.  She climbed up to get a better view of the ocean. As she gazed out at the water, she whispered the name again- “Tirzah”. It didn’t have the same effect this time as it did on the beach. Instead of startling her, it transported her to a memory from the past, one that she acknowledged now only in her writing.

As her blue eyes gazed out towards the horizon of the sea, her thoughts entered into a divine narrative that carried her away into a vision-

As I am wandering the empty streets with my Accuser I come unexpectedly upon a pearl of great price. It was one that I had kept from another lifetime ago, one that I had held onto from my past. I had forgotten all about it- it had rolled into the gutter, dirty and discarded. I pick it up and wipe it clean, then study it in the light. It rolls in my palm and it is smooth and white and perfect. I am lost in thought, remembering what it means. There is something here….something about perfume, anointing, baptism, purity, and white roses. I remember a cross, the one I used to bow down to, before I built this empire. And a Name, one that comes on the wind with the spray of the sea, the one that smells sweet like peppermint and deep like lavender and sounds bright like freedom and feels safe like home. That Name, this pearl. This belongs to Someone, there is something I must do, something I need to surrender, Someone I must meet with. I should apologize and return it. But where is He?

Mara jumped, coming out of the daydream quite suddenly. Looking around, she blinked and found that she was still in the same place and not a moment had passed. And with shaking hands and anticipation in her belly, she picked up her pen and wrote down everything she had just seen.

It was the natural next chapter of the story she had already been composing.

          Running out of words, she hurried back downstairs and worked off the nervous energy by finishing her household chores with vigorous haste. Once all was done, Mara tended her vineyard while watching the sun make its arc across the sky and waiting for her work of the day to come to completion so that she could return to the beach. Finally, after working tirelessly and earning her rest, the sun was low in the sky and a cool breeze blew in from the water.

Just as she was about to hurry out the door, Mara remembered to grab a long sharp-edged stone that she used for cutting.  She would use it to cut away the thick seaweed from the entangled treasure. Mara set the tool on the table next to her and turned to look around the room.  The glow of the fire reminded her of dinner, but she did not want to squander any time eating before it got dark.

She stooped to pull on her long sweater, and as she did so she turned to look towards the kitchen table. She spotted a large basket underneath, one which she had given to Achor in the morning when he was helping her prep her seaside harvest for cooking. She leaned down, careful of her dress, and picked it up. Tucking it under her arm, she placed the tool inside with a small loaf of bread and cheese and covered it with a blanket. Then she toted the basket out the door as she headed eagerly back towards the beach.

The sun was setting, and a cool wind was coming off the ocean.  It would be dark soon, as announced by the orange glow in the sky.  Most likely she would be walking home under the light of the moon- hopefully with the white pearl necklace in her hands, glowing under its soft light.  Her curiosity reawakened, Mara hastily pushed the heavy, wooden gate out of her way as she entered the path, leaving it open to rest with a dull thud against a stumpy palm. 

          As Mara came to the top of the hill, she paused to look out over the island.  Fog was rolling in off the horizon, and the sun was low over the ocean. The clouds in the sky made golden pronouncements of its final hour. 

As Mara approached the beach, she set down her basket and surveyed the scene before her. She looked down at the sand and saw that the giant section of broken seaweed was gone. 

“Oh.” She said with a heavy heart. “The tide must have taken it,” she spoke into the wind, and her words carried immense disappointment.

          She left her basket there in the grasses and clambered down the rocky side of the hill, stepping onto the beach, longing for a chance to investigate and explain the loss.  Mist from the crashing waves met her face as she turned towards the water.  It was cold when the sun set, and she pulled the sweater tighter around her body, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow. 

She ran her eyes up and down the shoreline, and from end to end she didn’t see the seaweed.  She walked up the left side of the beach until she came to the large jut of rocks which blocked her beach from view of the bay several miles further that direction.  She glanced around among the pebbles and boulders, but saw nothing. She looked at the seagulls, nesting and squawking as they settled in for the night. There was no sign of the pearl treasure.

          Doubt beginning to creep over her, Mara walked back to where she had been standing and tried to remember exactly where she had seen the seaweed last.  “I’m sure of what I saw this morning,” she said to the wind, which was blowing her hair into her sad face.  “I don’t why it isn’t here now.”  She shook her head, but couldn’t get the word “Tirzah” out of her head. She found herself looking down the other end of the beach at the cliffs which rose many feet into the air. 

Although it was far from where she stood, something inside her said she should look there before giving up hope. As Mara began to search around the base of the cliffs on the far side of the beach, something on the very end of the shoreline caught her eye.  Far from the place where she had left the seaweed were the rocks; the ones she had used to secure her treasure in place – they were piled neatly together.  They had obviously been moved carefully aside by human hands, which meant the tide had not washed away the seaweed.

 

She dreaded the thought of Achor interfering- though he had never set foot on the sand before, she wondered if he had discovered her treasure and come to steal it for himself. Her anticipation renewed, she moved towards this last possible option for making a discovery…

~*~

Join me next time for chapter six! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my personal confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca

Pearls and Presence, Chapter Four- Hope

If I looked out the windows of this tower I would see the ocean from here, and I could watch the gulls swooping and gliding, and see the beauty that is sparkling on the surface of the water below. The sun is shining through red stained-glass, and it tries to reach me. But I never look up, I never look out, because I am too busy worshiping. I come here often to honor my idols. The Accuser always follows me here- it’s his favorite place also. He watches me closely but never says a word. His eyes glow with desire, and they never leave me for a moment. They stare at me unblinkingly and wait. I have seen these haunting eyes in my dreams.

~*~

Mara was intrigued by the treasure. “Where did this come from?” she wondered. 

Nobody ever visited the island. She wondered briefly if Achor might know something about it. But she quickly pushed thoughts of him away.

She tugged at the side of the strand of pearls that had the word on it, trying to wipe it clean with her hands. She moved it this way and that, trying to free it from the kelp. The pearls were smooth and white and perfect, and they were hopelessly stuck.

Mara became lost in thought, remembering what this could mean. 

There was something from the past….something about perfume, anointing, baptism, purity, community and the forgiveness of white roses. 

She remembered a Presence, one before she walked through the Valley of Achor…

…a time before she took refuge in isolation. Before she became bitter.

And she felt a reminder of Hope that surpasses understanding, one that comes on the wind with the spray of the sea, the one that smells sweet like peppermint and deep like lavender and sounds bright like freedom and feels safe like home.

 “That name, this pearl.” She looked up at the seagulls and directed her words to their curious beady eyes. “This was a gift from Someone, and there is something I must do, something I need to surrender.” She looked out towards the sea, but she knew not what she saw, because she was watching a distant memory from her past. 

“There is someone I must meet with, a story I still need to write. I should talk to Him about it. But where is He?” She hardly knew where these thoughts were coming from or that she spoke them aloud.

The gulls listened closely, heads tilting from one side to the other. One by one they began returning to their nests, settling in and comforting their frightened young.

Rousing herself, Mara came to her senses and realized with urgency that she had a great deal she needed to record in her journal.

          Throwing the stick down on the mess of seaweed, she stood up and brushed the wet sand off her hands and knees.  She looked down at the pearl necklace one last time, realizing she could not bring it home with her until she freed it from the kelp. Reluctantly Mara stepped back and glanced towards the embankment, knowing that she couldn’t waste any more time or her inspiration would be lost. 

She decided to come back later after she was done writing. She piled several large rocks around the seaweed to secure it down safely and then began to carry out her original intent, to launch her tiny fishing boat and catch a meal.

          After a quick harvest of clams and fish, she took one last look at the strange treasure, making a mental note of its location in order to return to it later with tools to untangle it from the mass of heavy seaweed. Then she departed with an eager yearning to return as soon as possible.

          As Mara was pushing her laden cart up the hill, she heard a small avalanche of rocks cascading down towards the beach on her left.  She stopped and stared, but there was nothing unusual to see among the large rocks from where she was standing.

A strange feeling came over Mara, and she longed to search among the caves and crevices in the side of the hill to see what had made that noise.  Without a doubt it was not Achor- he always looked warily upon the sea with distaste in his eyes. One place that Mara knew he would never follow her was the beach- he had an aversion to water and vast open spaces. He never set foot on the sand- he preferred the confines of his dark Valley filled with idols.

  So maybe the disturbance had to do with the pearls she had found?  But she knew that Achor would probably start searching for her in her vineyard if she took any longer coming home, so Mara forced herself to continue walking. She must keep him away from her roses.

She consoled herself with the promise that she would return later in the cool of the evening, just as soon as she had finished her chores and, most importantly, her writing.

~*~

The quick pace at which she was pushing the heavy cart up the hill soon warmed her, and she was panting by the time she pushed it into the small shed next to the house. 

“You’re in quite a hurry this morning,” a smooth voice said behind her, startling Mara out of her activity.  She turned around to meet the familiar face and dark prying eyes staring down intently into hers.

“Achor.”  Mara blushed and backed up slightly.  She didn’t know what else to say, remembering their last fight not so long ago. She stood next to her cart and awkwardly leaned against it, wiping the perspiration from her brow. She stared at the ground by his feet, avoiding his face.

She didn’t want to admit she was relieved to see him again, nor did she want to tell him why she was in such an excited rush.

“What is it? Something happened.” Achor prodded for an answer. Since he could not enter her mind, he read her face, studying her every move quite intently and hanging onto her every word.

“Oh, it’s nothing interesting” Mara said with a tinge of annoyance that he was endlessly asking her personal questions.  “I am running low on supplies, so I just wanted to see if I could gather some clams and do some early fishing.”  She paused, hoping he wouldn’t ask if she had another dream about the storm.  She didn’t want to talk to Achor about her dreams.  But he evaluated her face and seemed to be satisfied with the impression.

“So,” he dismissed that conversation and smiled down at her with benevolent swagger, “can I walk you to the house?  I don’t have to be anywhere in particular, and I could use some company. I won’t talk too much, I promise.” He smiled coyly, falling into step beside her.

“Well, ok,” Mara responded, hiding her uncertainty.  Although she wanted to believe that his offer was friendly, she couldn’t help the doubt that rose up inside her.  It made her feel vulnerable, and she did not like it.  She knew Achor presented himself as a gentleman, but still she never fully trusted anything he said, although she wanted to and tried.

In her memory Mara could hardly recall a time when he had not been a constant presence in her life of isolation.  They sometimes walked together on the trail in the evenings and made up fanciful stories about what lay beyond Empire Island.  She never felt any direct imposition during these conversations, because he knew when to respect her insecurity.

 This was why he now watched her face both when she spoke and when she was silent, so he would know exactly what to say to make her feel safe with him. He always made suggestions that resonated with her deepest fears in a way that short-circuited her judgement.  He seemed to know her even better than she knew herself, which was daunting. 

“What was so interesting out on the bay, anyhow?” he asked as they walked side by side towards the house together.  “I have noticed you watching it closely the past few days. You are starting to make me very jealous.”  At this, Achor tilted his head, ran his fingers into his hair and put on a dramatically sad expression on his face.

Mara surprised herself and laughed out loud at his unusual display of comedy, which made Achor drop his act and laugh, too.  She composed herself and corrected him.

“You know, sometimes I get tired of you accusing me, mister!” Mara shook her head, smiling to hide her confliction.  He may sometimes joke about his jealousy, but there was interrogation beneath his light words. She wasn’t sure how to answer his initial question, so she remained silent for a long while. He didn’t ask her again.

The two walked slowly, as the path between the shed and the house was not far. 

They stopped in front of her door.

“This is my stop.  I really should hurry, so I can collect my baskets and start cooking all those fish. I have a lot to do.”  Mara turned to push open the door.

“Allow me to help, won’t you? I will wait here.” Achor stood obediently with his hands clasped in front of him, feet firmly planted on the doorstep, with a demure and obedient countenance.

“Well, alright.” Mara hesitated, seeing his attempt at persuading her through easy compliance. She hurried inside, gathered up several woven baskets in her arms, and came back out to where he was standing. She handed him one of the more cumbersome baskets and they carried them across the lawn.

Working side by side in the dim light of the shed, Achor and Mara worked to shell the clams and prepare the fish for cooking, separating the different kinds and cleaning them. After her entire collection was attended to, they carried the full baskets back to the house.

Appreciative for his help, Mara smiled up at Achor when they returned to her door. She set her two baskets on the table and returned to get his. As she reached for the largest basket to take inside, their fingers touched. His eyes flickered and he put his hand on her shoulder when she took it from him. She hesitated, debating whether to look at his face, and when she did Mara saw him looking at her in that unsettling way again, with his handsome and searching eyes.

“Thanks for letting me help you with this, Mara. I love to work with you. You are always so busy and I want you to know that I am always available to assist you. You spend so much time in your garden or doing chores.”  He paused, choosing his next words carefully.  “You should take a break once in a while and come visit me in the Valley. Like old times.”

“It has been a while,” stammered Mara, debating whether to rebuke his remark. She decided to pacify him this time with a gentler approach.  “I just don’t ever think to come and visit. The Valley just never comes to mind anymore. I can hardly remember it now,” she added, careful to give that particular qualifier.

“I still would welcome you any time. You used to adore the Valley, when you were in your prime of happiness. I still have all your idols exactly as you left them last. I preserve them for you. I know you will want them again someday.” Achor spoke boldly.

“Oh. Well, um, thank you,” she responded lightly.  She would never visit him there again, nor her idols, ever. There was too much shame in the memory. The influence of desire was still too intimidating to her wounded heart and mind. 

His hand left her shoulder, though his eyes didn’t leave hers.  “Well, see you later, then!” He said brightly.  He threw her another crafty smile that would have made her laugh again if she didn’t know him better.

          She remembered the pearls.

Mara knew she would make quicker time now that Achor was gone, since she was no longer locked in a discussion with him.  She was in such a distracted state that she fumbled with the last basket and almost spilled it.  She set it down, and then she ran over to the kitchen window and looked out.  Before she began her morning chores, Mara wanted to pause and recall her discovery of such a strange and beautiful treasure.

But she kept her emotions in reserve, because now was not the time to feel. It was time to accomplish the tasks at hand.

She had a whole day ahead of her before she returned to the beach. She had to prepare her meals, preserve the remaining food, and tend to her rose beds. And she wanted to write something more in her journal.

 She needed to be present with herself and leave the excitement of her finding at the beach where she left it. Taking a deep calming breath, Mara stepped back from the window and looked around her.  

The room was still and quiet and filled with hope.

~*~

Join me next time for chapter five! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my personal confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca