To hem their
blessings with thank you.
To pray, not
just with mouth but from the depths of their hearts.
That was their
plan to herald “The Big Day”, the day the Good Lord was born.
The Big Day –
when the weather would turn and the days would begin to lengthen again. Or
rather used to.
The days were
changing. So were weathers. And what were the mortals to make out of the ways
of nature.
It had never
been so cold before.
The rain mixed
with snow was numbing. Snow at merely 3000ft above sea level.
Now who could
have thought of that.
So the winters
would stay. It was just the beginning.
And so they
layered themselves up, wearing literally thick blankets, while trying to hasten
about their daily errands and while trying to be in time for the holy
get-together.
Amidst the
numbing cold, the township was bustling with festivities. Gaiety and merriment
turned the somber dull winters to bright bubbling arroyos.
… Their choirs are singing,
Till the air, everywhere, now their joy is ringing.
Cold tried to
tie them down. They tied back the cold.
The congregation
was yielding thanks and singing praise to Lord Almighty.
Sub zeros melted
with the warmth of their hearts.
… With ever joyful hearts,
And blessed peace to cheer us,
And keep us in his grace
And guide us when perplexed
And free us from all ills
In this world and next.
But not all
celebrate. Not all herald peace.
There always is
a spoil sport.
He came and
genuflected before the altar.
And while others
were imploring with closed eyes, he thanked the missionaries who had readied
him for the day.
He felt exalted.
Proud of the contribution he was making.
Mechanically, he
touched a button on his jacket.
The echoes of
his prayer boomeranged for a while.
And then sirens
took over.
The sanctum was
silent now.
Tattered shreds
of life, all beyond mending, lay strewn in the pews.
The Big Day had
arrived.
Courtesy : Picture it and write ...
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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.