by Becky Parker
On the cold wet grasses, fragrant with jasmine and lilies, sat a rotting white chair; its former occupant long forgotten. Further down in the field, a rooster crowed-the only alarm clock for miles. I walked to the abandoned church, its white steeple Still defiantly raised to the sky, and entered. Sounds of ghostly songs hovered above the worn pews, And pinged against the rotting walls. A mouse, skittered across the floor, irreverent droppings left behind. I gingerly sat in the pew, blew the dust of the dog eared hymnal, and found “Just as I am without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me.” Tears sprinkled my cheeks as I sang and remembered the day that song took wings in my heart and flew to the Cross. “O Lamb of God, I come. I come.”
Acknowledgment: “Just as I Am” song by Charlotte Elliott, 1789-1871
Becky Parker is married and lives in Tennessee. She enjoys hearing a tall tale, glamping with her husband, DIY projects, historical fiction, gardening, and spending time with her family. She has been published in Spirit Fire Review and The Potato Soup Journal.