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Musings by the well
by tope Ogundare It is just another day filled with the same routine; cleaning the house, cooking the meals and going to the well. I am not in the mood for company today, misery is already a handful. Jason is turning out to not be the angel he appeared to be. That I wanted him to be. When will I find a man that will fill the void inside of me? That will satisfy my longing for love and acceptance? They all love me, or so they say. They cannot however hide their real feelings for long. Beneath, their thinly veiled expression of love, disgust and selfishness shines brilliantly. What they love is my beauty and prowess. And they soon tire and become restless, impatient and inattentive. Five men in thirty short years. Six including father, whose love I craved the most. The attention and rush of the men is decreasing, wrinkles here and there and a few flabs around my waist are to be blamed. I face a future of loneliness and lack of love. Who will love me when I'm no longer appealing? He speaks to me like a friend, coming out of the blues and demanding for a drink from my pitcher. Unique pick up lines, I admit and look him in the eyes. I don't see the familiar glint of passion usually present in the other men. He is actually speaking to me and not at me, and is genuinely interested in what I have to say. He is actually listening! I feel good inside and could stay here forever. We debate about religion and history and politics. We talk about life and He says things that touch me deeply, like He knows all what I am going through and that has ever happened to me. The conversation is friendly and flowing freely. His views are strange and different, refreshingly so. He is devoid of hostility, hatred, discrimination and arrogance that characterize the Jews, who look down on us Samaritans. He talks about decentralized worship and abolition of liturgy and traditions. True worship, he says, must be in spirit and in truth. I want more. The longing and yearning is now a dull ache gnawing at my insides. I ask for the living waters that he offered. "Go call your husband" he answers. My heart flutter. Who is my husband? I wonder. Jason, Joseph, Judah, Jehoshaphat or Jephtah? "I have no husband" I reply. He nods and says "you speak the truth, none of the five is your husband" Now, I know why He is different. He is a prophet, imbued with the Spirit of God. I tell him so. No ordinary man speaks like this. More than a prophet, he discloses. "I am the Messiah" he declares "the one you have been waiting for" Joy surge through me at the revelation. The Messiah has come, and is here in the flesh. And I am speaking with Him. Hope is restored and I feel alive again. ************************************ A single encounter with the Messiah can leave us changed and whole again. He meets us in places we least expect. We need to be on the look out for such visitations. Ogundare Tope, a Psychiatrist in training at the Neuropsychiatric hospital, Abeokuta, Nigeria. Lover of books and music. A writer, poet, musician and physician. blogs at [email protected]. contact email: [email protected] Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |