Marilyn Friesen: Aren't You Going to Tell Me the Rest of the Story? (The flood series)

Friday, February 1, 2013

Aren't You Going to Tell Me the Rest of the Story? (The flood series)

"Imma?"

I didn't hear him.

"Imma?" A little hand patted my cheek. "Aren't you going to tell me the rest of the story?"

I gazed at the small, innocent face looking at me, while my eyes were brimming over with tears. I swallowed, and reached for the hankerchief tucked in my belt.

"Yes, son," I swallowed again. "Yea, in just a minute." The next time I glanced at him I saw that he to was starry-eyed, but not with happiness. A tear trickled down that smooth, brown cheek. I wanted to kiss it away but my arms with full with a soundly sleeping baby.

"The lightning came and the thunder crashed, remember?" a sweet, little voice prompted.

"Yes. I remember." I blew my nose and haltingly began.

"Gradually the racket died down, and then I heard something worse! It was the cries, the screams and the curses of those on the outside! That was so much more heart-wrenching than the panic of the animals!" As I once again wiped my eyes and blew my nose, I mentally berated myself for getting so caught up in the stories I told.

Yeshua got on his knees and wrapped his arms around my neck and leaned his head against my head. I thought it was too much for him, so fell silent.

"Go on, Imma."

"That's about all, tinoki. For the next few days we were kept very busy feeding the animals. The men cleaned the manure along the gutters then shoved it down long shoots into the holding pen beneath us. We became friendly with different ones of the animals, and Japheth even taught several of the larger, more colourful birds to talk, which was most entertaining. Most of them flew away after the flood, but he kept one as a pet for many years.*

One little lamb refused to stay in his pen, but insisted on following me up and down the aisles whenever I was feeding the animals. I grew so attached to him.

It wasn't as busy as we had expected, because gradually over the next few weeks many of the animals were lulled into a state of dormacy by the constant motion of the ship, so we only feed them occasionally.

We were lonesome, though. It was hard, very hard thinking of our friends and neighbours rejecting the call of God and being eternally punished for their neglect and rebellion.

The rains stopped and the water receded and there was eventually enough dry land that we were able to disembark.

I was very awestruck--and grateful--for the rainbow that arched across the sky. It was God's promise that He would never distroy the world with a flood again.

*totally imaginary