Surprised by a Re-read

Sometime in June, 2011, I struggled through a historical novel by Jane Kirkpatrick. The story,  A Tendering in the Storm takes place on Willapa Bay in Washington State in the mid 1800s. The main female character, Emma Giesy, is widowed and alone, having the responsibility of small children, trying to keep up the small homestead in the continual rain, and dealing with her controlling in-laws. She is a proud, stubborn woman who seeks no help. I really identified with her--not the in-law part, but her being alone and not wanting to ask for help. At one point she finds herself at the gristmill with a man has insisted on helping her around her home and wanting to marry her.  She is not at all interested in either him or marriage.  While they are standing in the uppermost part of the mill, looking over the heavily forested hills toward Olympia, he puts his arm around her and she "succumbed to their comfort."  My eyes tear up and begin overflowing .    

This was the first time in three years I had experienced any kind of emotion in regards to physical contact with a man. It threw me off guard since I don't cry very easily, and I didn't let myself cry this day. I had grand kids sitting across the room from me. What in the world would they think?  I hurriedly left the room, washed my face, and put the whole "embrace thing" out of my mind.  

A few days later, while organizing my computer documents, I came across the following  poem I had written in May, and re-read it. I remembered the challenge of using alliteration to express my thoughts.  I remembered the dark, dreary spring days causing me some depression. I didn't remember the desire to be embraced  that I had expressed  that day. I was simply experimenting with "S" words.  At least that is what I thought.  The novel had released what I had kept so tightly locked. God indeed works in mysterious ways.

Sunshine in “S  May 1, 2011

Sunlight streams onto my sofa, stroking my shoulder.

I sense its soothing strength.

I shudder as it sings softly to my soul.

And I surrender to its seductive stillness.

Soon, so soon, shadows steal away the sun.

Showers splash steadily on cement.

Sorrow and sadness stealthily surround me.

I cannot see the solar orb.

 Then I sense the singing of a song.

Searching its source, I also sense a sweet, sweet, sonorous sound.

"Seek not the shrouded, seducing sun,” it sings.

“Seek a Shepherd to soothe your soul. Seek my Son."

My sadness sinks. My spirit soars.

 "Ah,” I sing in reply, “such a Shepherd and such sweet Shalom.”