Direction

A man’s heart plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps – Proverbs 16:9

Have you ever made plans without consulting God first? You decide that you are going to go into missionary work because you saw a program on TV or know someone who is in the mission field but have you asked yourself if that is what God wants you to do? He might want you to be a missionary where you work or where you live instead of you going off to another country.

You might be planning to quit your job and move to another city or country but is that what God wants? What if He wants you to stay put because He has plans for you? You may be planning to get married but what if God wants you to wait? What if the timing is not right? OR what if the person you want to marry is not the right person? How many people could have avoided heartache, unhappiness, failed marriages if they had only waited on the Lord.

Let the Lord direct your steps. If you have plans, share them with Him. You may or may not have His blessing but either way you will be much better off than if you were to go ahead and follow your own plans instead of waiting on Him to give you direction.

fork roads

The Encounter

“Drink from your own well, my son—be faithful and true to your wife” – Proverbs 5:15

In all the years he had been married to Ashley, never once had he looked at another woman until that moment when he saw her leaning against the wall in the subway.  She was stunning and looked like a fashion model.  Other people were staring at her too but she seemed oblivious to them.

Although, his gut was warning him not to, he walked over to where she was and stood there, waiting for the train.  He had his head turned away from her as he looked down the tracks but he could feel her eyes on him.  Unable to resist, he glanced over his shoulder.  Their eyes met.  She smiled at him.  He had two choices, smile back or turn away.  He smiled back.  That was his mistake.  Leaving her position against the wall, she sauntered over to him, her gaze traveling slowly and deliberately over his tall frame.  He felt his body respond and his heart began to pound.  He turned around so that he was fully facing her, his eyes practically undressing her as she stood in front of him.

“Do you have the time?” she asked, her head cocked to one side, her eyes riveted to his face which felt hot.

He glanced at his watch.  “It’s a quarter to six,” he replied.  This close she was even more stunning.  Every instinct urged him to run but he stood there staring at her.

She smiled.  “Thank you.”

“Do you work around here?” he asked.  “I’ve never seen you before today.”

“Yes, I work around here.  I was on my way to the Mall to pick up a few items.  I’ve never seen you before either.  I would have remembered.”  Her eyes slipped over him again.  “You’re a fine looking man.  Too bad you’re married.”

He swallowed hard.  “Does that make a difference?” he asked.

“It might to your wife.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“She doesn’t have to know what?”

“That you and I are talking to each other.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”  She laughed.  “What’s your name?”

“Silas.”

“Well, Silas, do you want to buy me a Café Latte?  There’s a really great coffee bar near Bryant Park.  We can go there and figure out if talking is all that we want to do.”

Every nerve was screaming that he should say no and walk away but when the train thundered into the station, they got on together.  She stood in front of him, holding on to the overhead metal bar.  The car was crowded so he was standing really close to her.  He could smell her perfume.  It suited her.  Her body was inches from his and a couple of times, he bumped against her when the train stopped abruptly.  He couldn’t hide his reaction to her even if he wanted to.  By the time they got to the 42nd street subway, he knew that he was in big trouble.

They walked to Culture Espresso.  It was a pleasant afternoon, mild and sunny.  While he went to buy the Café Latte for her and a Mocha for himself, she went to find a table.  She found one by the window and was sitting with her back against the wall.  He sat down opposite her and set the Café Latte down in front of her.  “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.  “You haven’t told me your name.”

“Aretha,” she said, holding out her hand.

He clasped it and blinked when heat coursed through his body at the feel of her slender fingers in his.  When he released her hand, he took a sip of his Mocha, his eyes trained on her.  This is madness, he thought.  He should be on his way home, not sitting here in a coffee bar with her.  For all he knew she could be in a relationship.  “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No.  I’m single, unlike you.”

He withdrew his left hand from the table and placed it on his thigh.  “Does my being married bother you?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a married man.  It complicates things.”

“So, after we finish our coffees, we part ways?”

“I didn’t say that.  Married or not, I want to do more than talk to you, if you know what I’m saying.  I live five minutes from here.  When we’re done here, we can go there.  It’s up to you.  You can walk away or you can come back to my place.”

Silas’s mind was reeling.  This was temptation in its purest and potent form.  Now he had an idea of how Joseph felt when he faced Potiphar’s wife or King David when he saw Bathsheba.  His mind was telling him to do what Joseph did and run but his body was telling him to do what David did.  He had a while to decide what he was going to do.

“So, what type of work do you do?” Aretha asked, breaking the silence.  “From the way you’re dressed, you look corporate.  Are you?”

“I’m a Software Engineering Manager.”

“You look a bit young to be a Manager.  How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Hmmm.  I’m forty.  So, do you like your job?”

“Yes, I like it very much.  And it doesn’t hurt that it pays very well.  What about you, what is your line of work?”

“I’m a Chief Executive.”

“When I first saw you, I thought you were a model.”

She laughed.  “I’m flattered.”

“You’re a very stunning woman, Aretha.”

“Thank you.  And you’re a very handsome man.  I’m not surprised that you’re already taken.”

“It didn’t stop you from approaching me in the subway.”

“I couldn’t resist.”

He slowly removed his cell from his pocket and dialed the number.  He listened to it ring out and then the answering machine kick in.  “Ashley, something has come up so I’ll be late getting home this evening.  See you later.”  He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.  He looked at Aretha.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

He nodded.

Aretha finished her Latte and got up.  “Let’s go, then.”

He drained his glass and rose to his feet.  He followed her out of the coffee bar.  The sun was beginning to set.  They didn’t say much as they walked to her place.  He was trying to ignore the Bible verses that popped into his head.  He was about to cheat on Ashley, something he never once imagined he would ever do but he couldn’t seem to help himself.  He wanted Aretha.  She aroused such a passion in him.  It was raw and powerful.  It gripped him like a vice, leading him down a path he never thought he would end up on.

He still had time to back out.  With every temptation, there was always the way of escape. Yet, he found himself walking right towards it with both eyes open.  He was throwing wisdom and caution to the winds.  His desire for her was luring him straight into a trap.  Maybe it was true that the only way to get rid of temptation was to yield to it.  Maybe all he needed was this one time with Aretha to get this “thing” for her out of his system and afterwards, they would part ways and never see each other again.

As soon as they got to Aretha’s place and she had locked the door behind them, he reached for her.  His mouth found hers and he devoured it like a mad man, driven by a hunger that couldn’t be held in check.  She kissed him back wildly.  In a matter of minutes, they were naked and making love on the rug in front of the hearth.

Unfortunately, their encounter that afternoon wasn’t their last.  It was the beginning of a long and torrid affair.

“Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” – Matthew 26:41

Sources: CNBC; Culture Expresso; Latte Art Guide; Eater New York; Brainy Quote

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cade/Untrodden #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

Cade lived on his own in a condo in the heart of downtown Toronto.  This wasn’t always the case, though.  He was married once and had a daughter but one day tragedy struck.  While he was out trapping lines, his wife and their eleven month old daughter had just returned from a walk when they were attacked by a bear.  Neither survived the attack. He returned home to find the animal still there and when it charged at him, he shot it.  He found their lifeless bodies and was overcome with grief.  The community reeled from this tragic incident and rallied around him.

He sold the cabin and moved to Toronto.  He wanted to be as far away as possible from where the tragedy occurred.  He never returned to the Yukon or the cabin again.  Too many painful memories and he was bombarded with self-recrimination.  It had been his idea for Joan to spend part of her maternity leave at the secluded cabin.  They would have been safer at their house in Whitehorse.  He blamed himself for what happened.  Joan and Chrissy would still be alive if it weren’t for him.

Moving to Ontario was the best decision he had made.  He stayed with family until he found a job and was able to afford his own place.  He worked for a construction company and became fast friends with the men who worked there.  They were always inviting him to something or the other so he didn’t have time to be lonely.

Ten years had passed since he lost Joan and Chrissy but he still thought about them.  He no longer blamed himself for what happened, however, he still couldn’t bring himself to return to Whitehorse.  There was nothing there for him, anyway.  His life was here now.  His friends were always setting him up with their female friends and relatives and occasionally he would go out on dates but nothing serious ever developed.  He wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, anyway.

He was walking in the park now.  It was a cold morning.  The snow was like a thick white blanket covering the path.  It was quiet.  Hardly anyone was around.  Not many people would venture out on a cold day like today but he loved it.  The air was fresh and crisp.  The coat he was wearing was nice and warm.  His head was covered and the scarf covered his nose and mouth.  He was dressed for this.

After he finished his walk, he decided to go to Tim Horton’s for a hot chocolate.  As he pushed open the door to go inside, he heard someone call his name.  He turned.  It was Roshawna.  She smiled.  “Hi, there.  Didn’t expect to run into you.”

He smiled.  “I could say the same about you,” he replied.  “I would have thought that you would be indoors on a day like today.”

“Yes, it’s pretty cold but I had errands to run.  Before heading home, I thought I’d stop in here and grab a hot chocolate to take the chill off.  What’s your excuse?”

“I didn’t want to be cooped up all day so I decided to go for a walk in the park.”

“You’re a Canadian through and through.  I’ll never get used to this cold and I’ve been living here for years now.”

“Why would you leave sunny and hot Jamaica to come here, then?”

“Better opportunities.”

“Are you in a hurry to get home?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s have our hot chocolates over there by the window.”

“Okay.”

“So, how’s life?” he asked when they were sitting at the table, steaming hot chocolates in front of them.  He liked Roshawna.  She was a live wire.  She was the younger sister of one of his friends.  They met at her brother’s barbecue last year.

“Life’s been busy.  I got a new job at a publishing company.  How about you?  I haven’t seen you in a while.  Been staying out of trouble?”

He laughed.  “What kind of trouble could I get into?”

She smiled.  “With your looks, you can get into all sorts of trouble.  Are you dating anyone?”

“No, not at the moment.”

“Good.  I’m not dating anyone either.”

“Good.”

“Are you busy later?”

“No.”

“How would you like some good home cooked Jamaican food?”

“My mouth’s watering at the thought.”

“Good.  My place tonight at seven.”

“I’ll be there.”

That settled, they talked about other things while having their hot chocolates.

This story was inspired by the tragic true story of a mother and her ten month old infant who were recently attacked and killed by a bear just outside of Whitehorse in the Yukon.  The father wasn’t there at the time of the attack but when he returned, the bear was still there and attacked him.  He managed to shoot and kill it.

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Untrodden at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Source:  AOL

Ife’s Toilet Crisis

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As Ife cleaned the toilet, she thought of how lucky these people were who could afford to travel and stay in fancy hotels when there were so many people there in Kampala who don’t have the luxury of private toilets.  Her daughter went to a school which didn’t have any toilets.  This meant that she had to use the bushes as a washroom.

Just recently, Ife’s ex-husband was charged and fined when he was caught urinating against a wall outside of a government building because there wasn’t anywhere else to go.  The toilets in buildings were locked and they wouldn’t let people off the streets use them.   She, herself was caught using this one by the Japanese businessman who occupied this suite.  In order for her to keep her job which she needed in order to support her daughter and herself and to use the toilet, she had to agree to his proposition.

She heard him now moving about in the bedroom.  He called out to her.  She flushed the toilet, washed her hands and joined him.  He was lying in the bed, waiting for her.  She took a deep breath and got undressed.

Two hours later, she went home.

200 Words

This story is in recognition of World Toilet Day which is today, Nov. 19.  Apparently, the toilet crisis is most severe in parts of Africa and Asia.  One in five primary schools and one in eight secondary schools globally don’t have any toilets, according to WaterAid.  World Toilet Day addresses the plight of millions who don’t have access to proper access to sanitation and whose lives are at risk.  The goal is to ensure that everyone has access to a safe toilet by 2030.

This was written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Safer

under-bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I huddled under the blanket two kind strangers brought for me along with a coffee and sandwiches.  I was very grateful to them.  They stayed and chatted with me for a while.  They asked me questions about myself and then talked about God.  I listened and before they left, they promised that they would return to check on me.  They left a pocket-sized Bible.  Their visit encouraged me.

It’s been a year now since I lost my job and was evicted.  I went to a shelter but left and came here where I feel safer.  I reach for the Bible.

100 Words

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here. To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

The Missionary/Calm #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

 

“When you went off on a missionary trip to Africa, we certainly didn’t expect you to come back with a wife,” Mrs. Cartland exclaimed, her expression one of disdain as she looked at her son.

Rolf sighed.  “Naija isn’t my wife, Mother.  I’m not sure why you think she is.  I’m sure I was clear in my letter that if I didn’t do something, she was going to be taken out of school and married off to a man old enough to be her grandfather.  In Nigeria, girls like Naija and younger are given in marriage without their consent.”

“And so you decide to bring her to England.  What about her parents?  I can’t imagine that they would let you just whisk their daughter away like that.”

“Her parents and I came up with an arrangement which will benefit all parties.  They were going to give her away in marriage because they are poor and need the money.  The man they were going to marry her to, has money but I offered them more money in exchange for marriage that Naija come to England instead.  I will put her through university.  After, she graduates, it is up to her if she wants to remain here or return to Nigeria.  Her parents agreed that if she should return, she is not expected to be married off but can get a job so she could continue to support them.  While she is here, I will send money to them on a regular basis to keep them.”

“You’re going to send them money?” Mrs. Cartland was aghast.  “And how long do you propose to do that?”

“Until Naija can afford to support them herself.”

“And when exactly will that be?”

“When she finds steady employment after graduating from university.”

“I fear, my Dear, that she’s going to take advantage of your generosity and you will find yourself supporting her for longer than is necessary.  You’re far too indulgent and gullible when it comes to the dregs of society.”

Rolf’s lips tightened but he held his temper in check.  “Mother, I appreciate your concern, but Naija isn’t like that at all.”

Mrs. Cartland didn’t look at all convinced and was about to say something else when her daughter, Rosalind spoke up.  “Rolf, let’s go for a walk.  It looks absolutely gorgeous outside.  Mother, please excuse us.”

Grateful for the interruption, he rose to his feet and after excusing himself, he followed her out of the room.  “Thank you for that,” he said to Rosalind as they walked down the hallway.

She glanced at him.  “No problem.  I could see that you were trying very hard not to blow your top.  And Mother can be very irritating at times.”

“At times?”

Rosalind laughed.  “All right.  Most of the time.”

Rolf’s lips twitched.  They were outside now and it was a gorgeous day.  “Let’s take a walk by the stream.”

“What a splendid idea!”

The stream was about a ten minute walk from the family’s mansion.  “Do you remember when Dad used to bring us here on a Sunday morning?  While he and I fished, you fed the ducks pieces of bread from the egg and cheese sandwiches Mrs. Hogwarth made?”

“Yes and I remember getting pecked by one of them and Dad had to bandage my hand with his handkerchief.  I was scared of the ducks after that.”

“Yes, that’s how Mrs. Hogwarth found out that you fed her sandwiches to them and she clobbered you.”

“Yes, I was scared of her after then too.  Oh, Rolf, what a riotous childhood we had.  I miss Dad.”

“I miss him too.”

“He would be so proud of you, being a missionary and all.  It was something he himself loved.  He always regretted leaving the field when he married Mother.  She never understood his love for it.  She preferred being the wife of a government minister rather a missionary’s.”

“I love being in full-time ministry, helping communities in London and overseas.  It’s how I met Naija.”

“You’re in love with Naija, aren’t you?” Rosalind commented, looking at him closely.

He blushed.  Nothing ever escaped her.  “Yes,” he admitted quietly.

“I see the way you look and act around her.”

“Can you imagine how Mother would react if she knew?”

Rosalind waved her hand dismissively.  “It doesn’t matter what Mother or anyone else thinks, Rolf.  You have to follow your heart.  It’s your life, your future and your happiness that are at stake here.  Remember, Mother wanted me to marry Reginald but I married Maxwell instead?  Reginald was a good man but I didn’t love him.  I was mad about Maxwell and we have been happily married for twenty-six years now.”

“I think you made an excellent choice.  Maxwell is an exceptional man.”

“Thank you and yes, he is.  Does Naija know how you feel about her?”

He shook his head.  “No.”

“Don’t you think that perhaps it’s time you told her?”

His heart lurched.  “I don’t know,” he said in alarm.

“Come on, Rolf, don’t be such a coward.  Sometimes, happiness comes by taking chances.  I took a chance with Maxwell and looked how that turned out.”

What she said made a lot of sense but the thought of revealing his feelings to Naija was daunting.  He would have to think about it some more.  “I’ll think about it,” he said after a while.

Rosalind slipped her arm through his and smiled.  “All right,” she said.  “Sleep on it, then.”  They continued walking alongside the river, enjoying the sunshine and the quietness.

****************************************************

Naija was already at the park, waiting when Rolf got there the following afternoon.  He had just come from a staff meeting.  She smiled when she saw him and the large brown paper bag in his hand.  He smiled as he sat down beside her.  “Have you been waiting long?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No.  I got here about five minutes ago.  Thanks for getting this.  I’m starving.”

He opened the bag and took out a box of Fish and Chips and handed it to her along with a plastic knife and fork.  He took out the other box.  On the bench between them, he put the cups of flavored milk tea and the straws.   After he said Grace, they tucked into the food.  It tasted as good as it looked and smelled.  As they ate, they talked about different things.   And all the while, he was thinking about what Rosalind had said.  He wanted to tell Naija how he felt but he was terrified.

“What’s wrong?” Naija’s question startled him.

“Nothing,” was his quick response.  A pause and then, wanting to shift the attention away from himself, he asked, “What are you plans after you graduate from university?  Will you stay here in England or return home to your family?”

She thought about it.  “I’ll stay here,” she said.  “I’ll find a job or I can become a missionary and work for you.”

“Being a missionary is an admirable vocation but what are your dreams?  What would you really like to do with your life, Naija?”

“I like writing.  I like to write about what I see around me.”

“Sounds like you’re thinking of becoming a journalist.  That’s very good. Perhaps, you’ll let me see some of your writings.”

“I will,” she promised.  “I keep a journal.  It’s almost full.  I write about university, what I observe on the campus, what I hear on the News and the conversations I have had with my host family.  I’ve written a lot of things about you as well.”

His eyebrows arched.  “Really?  And what exactly have you written about me?”

“How you’ve been so good to me and how blessed I am that you came into my life.  I will always be indebted to you, Rolf.”

A muscle began to throb along his jawline.  “I’m the one who’s blessed,” he replied.  Their eyes were locked.  His heart was racing.  This is foolish, he thought.  I’m behaving like a lovesick fool over a girl almost half my age.  She just sees me as her benefactor, nothing more.  All she feels towards me is gratitude. 

“That isn’t all I wrote about you,” she said shyly.

He swallowed hard.  “What else did you write about me?”

She looked nervous now.  “Rolf, I know that I’m only eighteen years old but, I–I was hoping that our age difference wouldn’t matter to you.”

“What are you saying, Naija?”

“What-what I’m saying, is-is that I want us to-to be more than friends.”

He expelled his breath in an unsteady sigh.  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his expression tense.

She nodded at once.  “Yes,” she replied.  “It’s what I’ve wanted since we met.”

“Oh, Naija,” he cried, his cheeks suffusing with color.  He set the empty boxes aside and rose to his feet.  He reached down and pulled her up.  “It’s what I want too.”  He pulled her against him and his eager lips found hers.  Overhead the setting sun cast its crimson glow on them.

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt –  Calm at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Sources: Erika and Eva Toh TravelsLondon City Mission

The Age Change

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Gwyneth glanced up from sorting the colorful rolls of thread.  “You’re joking,” she said to her brother, Nolan.

He glowered at her.  “I’m not,” he informed her crossly.  “If people can change their genders and their birth names, I don’t see why I can’t change my age.  I’m 65 years old but I look and feel twenty years younger.”

“So, you want to change your age to…?”

“Forty-five.”

“Why?”

“I’m looking for a job.”

“What on earth for?  You’re retiring next month.”

“I don’t want to retire.  I want to continue working but wherever I apply, I’ll face discrimination because of my age.  If I’m 45, I’ll have a better chance of getting hired.”

“What does Vera think about this?”

“Vera and I broke up.”

“She didn’t approve, so you dumped her.”

“Well, yes and no.  We’re not compatible anymore and besides, I met this beautiful woman at the gym yesterday and…”

“She’s much younger than Vera, isn’t she?”

“You make me sound like a jerk.”

“Well, you are, no matter what your age.”

174 Words

This story was inspired by the true one of a 69 year old man who applied to legally change his age because he identifies as 20 years younger.

This was written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. For more information visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Source:  Independent