Chapter 1 Sample

“Why must you open the floodgates of love before you are ready?” ~~Song of Solomon




Chapter 1



It envelops me, I am submerged as if in deep water or as if warm blanket is safely wrapped around me. It is protective, vivid yet surreal, yet somehow so much more real than life itself. It comforts me when all comfort has perished, it gives birth to hope when no hope should be left. Somehow it loves, when my mind says love is dead… when my mind insists love is nothing more then a fantasy. But then it’s snatched away, it’s gone, and once again I plummet.



Such extreme passion burns within me, so fierce and persistent, ever present, even though the whispers says it is gone. Adrenaline rushes through my veins awakening my entire being. A life giving breath fills me, it’s His breath, I know. Somehow these bones of mine begin to move, and flesh comes back upon them, soon I feel my heart begin to beet once more like it did before, and I know I want to dance. This joy that fills me makes me want to sing, and dance and sing and never ever stop, after all how could a dead person given life anew ever stop dancing?



I twirl about like a little child and suddenly I stop, His eyes are upon me, He is admiring me, oh my Creator is admiring me, He enjoys this I know, seeing this dead creature be born once more, feeling joy once more… breathing once more. His heart seems to beat within me, and maybe, I think just maybe that is why I am alive now, because He has given me His heart. Could such a thing be? Who would give His own heart to make me live?



“Are you ready, my Beloved?” He asks, His voice resonating in every corner of my soul and the farthest parts of the universe.



“Yes, here I am, I am ready.”



And so I sprint towards Him, light as a doe, towards the prize which I know nothing can destroy or ever snatch away… this amazing, indescribable race, an amazing race that drives me to the very limit to serve Him, the One, the only Lover of both my heart and soul. He is the One, I recognize Him, for it is He that saved me from chaos, from utter darkness and despair.



~~~~~~~



The summer breeze tenderly kissed my face as I looked at the crowd gathered around my aunt Miriam’s courtyard and all around the L shaped old wooden porch that overlooked the courtyard, even down to the iron gates. Some of them even had to squeeze into the rooms to make room for the others. A multitude of downcast faces were gathered here from all around the small city in honor and remembrance of my great-grandmother. It would have been such a privilege to have known her better, but my home country had not been my home for almost two decades and the ocean between us was indeed a great divide. Still this great multitude of people spoke to me of who she was, I see her life’s story in every face for each face shows she was indeed one of this city’s beloved and respected women.



Integrity was a word that often was repeated and whispered among this faithful crowd in attendance this day. Great-grandmother Lidia had learned to be strong even when she was weak, and she had lived long and loved hard. Her aging eyes had seen so much, even so many of her most beloved going before her, leaving a hole in her heart, this hole of separation. The greatest thorn in her heart, no doubt was the passing of her daughter Margareta at the still young age of forty six, my father’s beloved mother. Before that she had seen her son-in-law Emanuel pass at the exact same age, both Emanuel and Margareta had died of the same disease that ate away at both of them for which there was no cure, it was cancer and this cancer broke more then just one heart. My father who’s name was also Emanuel just like his father’s, was only sixteen when his father died, and after he had married my mom Margareta, all too soon his mother also died… just a little after I was born. Yet still they all pressed on, my great-grandmother Lidia somehow held on to faith in the midst of the worst heart break, knowing she must hold fast in her faith in the One who could and would one day re-unite her with the ones she loved. Aunt Miriam was her youngest daughter, the one who had survived who had diligently cared for Lidia until the very last moment.



In return for her grand heart and unshakable faith, God had seen fit to crown her with a long meaningful life, even though she may have preferred to enter heaven’s gates much sooner then she did. The faces surrounding me displayed a deep longing to have her back, yet they celebrated her life.



Yet many had not understood what drove her on, they could not understand that bottomless faith she kept even toward the very end. Her love and passion for her Savior went beyond simply following the numerous traditions found in the Roman Catholic Church of Romania. Truly, Lidia’s love for Him was as deep as an ocean. Lidia’s daughter Margareta had also mirrored this faith a hundred times over and this deep healing love and faith was filtered into the very heart of my generation, although most of our relatives did not embrace this gift of life giving force. I remembered daddy telling me what his mother had told my aunt Miriam on her own death bed, and somehow it was a prophecy that came to pass into painful reality. She had told her younger sister that if she doesn’t turn to God she would suffer much in this life, and so Miriam had come to meet those words. My grandmother Margareta also told her little sister, that if she ever wanted to meet once more, it would only be in heaven, and to get there she must come to find the One who gave His life for her to get there. But aunt Miriam had been stubborn, and life had taken her through many twists and turns, abuses and heart aches. Now, she was strong, seemingly thirsty to find Him, sometimes coming so close, yet stopping just a step too far from Him.



So perhaps then this crude family feud over who should perform her funeral was after all understandable. The family had argued unabashedly, my father had even called from the States when he first heard of his grandmother passing. He had a warm and kindhearted soul and when he heard this news it must have taken a piece of his heart, almost like the last trace of his mother that was surely evident in Lidia, was now gone too. He must have remembered the last time we had visited Romania a few years back, my tall father had embraced my great-grandmother in a tender hug and he said that she was his “little dwarf grandmother”, and she had smiled at their little joke, for indeed age seemed to have shrunk her.

So when my father called he spoke with determination and love, he said “Miriam, she was Pentecostal, at least call the Pentecostal church and let them know, “ he had begged. So on it went, would the Catholics perform it? After all the vast majority of her family was Roman Catholic, and in the last few years it was indeed the Catholic Priest who had remembered to visit her and encourage her, while the Pentecostals seemed to fade into the background, visiting her on occasion. Should the Pentecostals get this honor? To them it made perfect sense to perform it, for it was in that church that she truly dedicated her life to Christ and there she had stepped into the cleansing waters where she was born again. It was because of this small church that even in her last hour, this last journey on this earth, Lidia said goodbye to this world with a look of blinding radiance and peace on her face, it was almost as if she was smiling a secret knowing smile. Looking at buni Lidia’s face, in her last moments of life, no one could mistake the luminous look in her fading eyes, there was no mistake, she was seeing the gates of heaven being opened for her and all the angels were eagerly waiting to lead her home and embrace her.



I sighed, in the end a truce of sorts was reached, perhaps not quite to everyone’s liking, but still it was a truce. The Pentecostal brothers and sisters in faith would honor her at the viewing with preaching, singing and praying. The Catholics would give her a grand ceremony at the small Roman Catholic church just a little further up the hill from aunt Miriam’s house. Perhaps it was fitting to be buried by them, for the church was ancient, even more so then Buni Lidia, and it too stood on a hill like a beacon to the world.



Once more, and not for the last time a pang of regret struck me and my sorrow was not diminished, but this was life. However great our desire had always been to visit our birthplace, it wasn’t often practical to visit as often as we would have preferred. The memory of the lush forests in the summer, the roaring river in the spring rain, the snow covered mountains in the winter, and the sweetness of a neighbor stopping just to chat throughout the lazy days… oh these memories often made us homesick. It had been especially so in the early days and years of immigrating with my parents and younger sister, and later my grandparent’s from my mother’s side to the United States of America. Romania was indeed only about the size of a small state in the United States, but what it lacked in size it more then made up for in culture, traditions and picturesque country sides and mountains. My home city Cugir was even smaller with a population of about thirty thousand people, and if ever you visited it you would quickly conclude that it was perpetually frozen in time, except for perhaps the ‘boulevard’ where the young people would emerge at night especially and stroll from one end of the city to the other, like vampires who could not or would not sleep.



“Evanthia come here,” with a strained smile aunt Miriam beckoned to me, wrapped her arms around my shoulders and turned back to the crowd, at the same time she handed me my little book where I had written all my favorite songs, she smiled at me in encouragement, “Go on, sing for her my dear.” Then quickly she stepped aside and looked at me expectantly.



My heart fluttered with a million butterflies as it always did when facing a rather large crowd. But I lifted my head and took a deep breath, and slowly walked over to where the polished cherry casket lay, no microphone, but the courtyard was enough to amplify any voice and echo throughout the entire neighborhood perhaps as well. A slight chill surged through me as I looked at Buni Lidia’s pale lifeless face, what a mystery death seemed! Yet still a calm swept and washed over me at the peace that could be plainly seen on her face, for she had gone in peace. So, reverently, I began. Softly at first I began to sing a song of life, not of death. My voice grew stronger as it always did with this song, for the words were planted deep inside my very heart, they dispelled all darkness, replacing it with hope. It felt as if the angels were singing this song somewhere in the heavens, certainly with more beautiful voices then mine. These heavenly beings were welcoming her home, where even now she was receiving treasures and rewards for her faithfulness.



“Amazing Grace… how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…”



As the last note of this hymn of devotion trailed off, a peaceful silence settled, and tears glistened even in the hardened eyes, especially in those of the elders of this farewell gathering. They knew, they remembered with clarity that she had lived that song. Silently I stepped away, aware and embarrassed by the eyes fixed on me, particularly the eyes of one who’s gaze followed me as I walked to where my sister Radiana and my cousin Dariel sat.



This one stranger, who’s look was so intense, like fire burning, like the hottest part of a flame seemed to be taking notice of me. I shook my head, my imagination was getting ahead of me, why would he even look at me twice, after all he looked like a prince among this crowd the way he carried himself.



The reassurance of the song still ran through my soul and I sighed in contentment, that was all I needed. A warm breeze swept through Dariel’s black hair and his ebony eyes sparkled with pride and enthusiasm as he looked at me.



“Didn’t realize you could sing like that cuz,” he said as he patted my shoulder.



Blushing I nodded, “Thanks, that’s about the only song that I can sing that well.” I laughed.



“Ha, I doubt that.” He replied.



All the while I could still feel the eyes of the tall handsome stranger from across the courtyard studying my every move. At one point it seemed that he would make his way to us, but just then a beautiful tall blond caught his attention instead and so I knew then and there that he had not really been looking at me. But why would I care?



A quiet, respectful chatter, almost like humming began around us as the people began to mingle. They began to help themselves to the fragrant tantalizing food in the small antiquated kitchen at the other end of the courtyard. In the Roman Catholic tradition the traditional food was made in honor of the deceased, and of course with the food came the tuica, a drink that was quite strong that was politely refused by the Pentecostals among us.



Radiana was strangely quiet, in the few weeks we had been in Romania she had fallen in love with our little great grandmother, our buni Lidia. Death had never visited our family at least not when we were old enough to remember, and Radiana seemed to have a far away longing look in her eyes that scarred me, as if she would like to join buni Lidia.



Just then the tall stranger started to make his way towards us and Dariel left us to meet him. “I’ll be back.” Was all he said.



As Dariel met him they seemed to fall into a comfortable conversation right away, the blue eyed still nameless, yet breathtakingly handsome stranger kept stealing glances my way. They walked out of the court yard into the dusty street, his head was held high in confidence, or was it arrogance? I couldn’t decide but I was mesmerized non the less. His posture was straight and regal, fully knowing the power he commanded from those around him, as a few others followed them out, one of which was a beautiful skinny blond. David, yes, he reminded me of how David must have looked, unshaken before Goliath with curly golden brown hair being tossed about by the wind, but his height resembled more Goliath then David.



As my grandmother who had come as our chaperone with us to Romania helped Miriam with the cleaning as the guests slowly one by one disappeared through the iron gates, I kept looking in that direction. But Dariel and the stranger with the rueful smile did not return and I sighed. Oh well, I thought.



The sun was quickly fading as I thought of the next few days that would come, of this coming Sunday when buni Lidia would be buried. I looked towards Radiana and a nagging fear intensified. This was not supposed to be how our trip was supposed to unfold, there was not supposed to be a death to further depress her, and I wished I could shield her from the harsh reality of life. Before we left the states we were so excited, a mission trip is what this was supposed to be, not anything else. It was just me, my sister and my grandmother three women with a purpose.



Radiana and I had been so inspired, after the year before we had gone an intense mission trip with a singing group called Speranta throughout all of Romania and the Republic of Moldova. Where ever we had gone we had seen chilling scenes of deep poverty, street children, orphans, and so in our hearts was born a passion and a determination. Once we had come back to the states we had saved up money, asked for donations, went from store to store asking for items they may want to donate for orphans. We knew what we would do, we would come back with a vengeance of mercy and bring hope to the fatherless of Cugir, and the poor who had no hope, and we would show them the way, the truth and the life.





“Sis, lets go home.” I said, bringing her out of her far away zone.



She nodded, “Yup, ok.”



My grandmother Martha made her way towards us when she saw us get up from our bench. “Plecam?” She asked in Romanian.



“Yes, we’re ready to go.” I answered.



So we set out for our walk to her house that she had. It was the house that I had always loved since I was a little girl, it was cozy and filled with pleasant memories.



“You’re not staying focused Evanthia,” my sister said sharply. She always seemed to have that bite in her tone now a days that I didn’t understand.



“What do you mean?”



“We came on a mission, not to find yourself a boyfriend.” Yup, straight to the point and straight to the heart it went, for a few seconds.



“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I insisted.



“Oh yea, well what was that between you and David?” she retorted pointedly.



I let out a frustrated sigh, “Urgh, you know he’s the one who wouldn’t leave me alone, and I’ve told him I don’t want to talk to him anymore, that I have to focus.” I said in my defense.



David was the guitar player from the small Pentecostal church we’d been attending every Sunday since arriving in Cugir. He had dark hair and olive eyes and a distinctive bad guy look that I had fallen for, a brief time though it was. I hated to admit that my sister was right, she had a way of being my compass even when I wanted to put my compass aside.



“Uhhhhuuu,” she said skeptically.



“Well that’s over with and I’m back on track, in fact Miriam will take us after the funeral to a poor town just half an hour away from here, she knows of someone who really needs help.” I replied with my strong lawyer-like defense.



“Yea, well what was that? You were practically drooling over that blue eyed guy at the funeral.”



“I was not!” I exclaimed.



“Whatever.”



And so as always she had the last word, because if I said one more word I knew I would be on the verge of exploding, mainly because she was right.



My grandmother was silent of course, she didn’t speak much English even though she had been with us in the states for over ten years. For her it was harder to learn, but in this instance it was just fine with me that she didn’t understand, I certainly didn’t need anyone else accusing me and pointing out my weaknesses.



So we walked briskly the rest of the way as evening was descending on us quickly. We reached Valea Dai in record time and soon we were inside the cozy kitchen with the ancient gas stove having a light dinner of warm fresh milk and bread and home made raspberry jam.



Soon enough we were each entering the world of dreams, and the tall blue eyed stranger did not elude me there… or so I told myself that the ethereal being in my dream was indeed him, that God Himself was giving me a stamp of approval, and he was the one….



Like a movie being played out before me there I saw myself. I was standing before a tall iron gate sweeping the dirt off of the threshold. The clothes I was wearing were old and worn like rags worn one too many times. An apron was tied snuggly over the old fashioned dress. People were walking past very purposefully with a clear destination in mind. My curiosity was piqued, and I desperately wanted to set aside my worn out broom and follow them, they looked so free… while I was not. I looked behind me fearfully, if I left my stepfather would know, he would pursue me fast enough I somehow knew.



Yet cautiously I set aside my broom, I left it there leaning against the iron gate, and followed this endless crowd. The excitement welling up in me could not be subdued, and soon each of us one by one entered and ancient building that had a look about it that gave the impression that it was a castle and yet as holy as a cathedral. Inside there was a long wooden table with wooden benches just as long on either side of it. There was all sorts of delicacies filling the length of it an my mouth watered. The people taking their seats were looking quite comfortable, they had been invited to this feast it seemed, and I was in rags looking longingly, yet uncertain as to what I should do, for clearly I did not belong at this table.



She got up before I had a chance to notice her, the way she held her head alerted me that she was someone of importance though she was simply dressed. She beaconed with her hand towards me, and once I reached her a tremendous peace engulfed me.



“Come, eat.” she said. And there I sat right beside her, and her arms were around me as I chose from the elaborate choices before me. Her demeanor radiated pure love, acceptance, even protection. But what did I need protection from?



Just as I remembered my stepfather, the other guests began alerting me, warning me, “He’s coming, he’s coming for you.”



I jumped up from the table desperately looking around, not knowing which way to run. The lady calmly touched my shoulder and pointed, and on the opposite side of the entrance I saw a doorway and also steps leading up, up, up.



I ran not even looking back, hardly breathing, hardly thinking, up the stone spiral steps that soon lead to a tower. From the window of the tower I looked down, there was no way out and I knew that he was close behind. My heart was hammering letting out sparks of fear, once more I looked down from the tower window and there below was a dark haired man with determined eyes.



“Jump, I’ll catch you.” he promised, and there was no other way. He looked like a prince I could trust, and what other choice was there I thought convincing and talking myself into the jump. And so I put my faith in a man, I jumped and tumbled upon him, he did not catch me and the fall hurt. His eyes were different now, filled with lust, and I knew I had just dived into a worse danger then before. I struggled against him, gaining deep bruises, but somehow I escaped and ran and ran and ran until there was no breath left in me…. I blinked and in the next moment there was a beautiful twilight around me…



There was a soft sound of gentle water all around me and a slight rocking like being rocked in a cradle beneath me, though I felt my feet stand on a solid but peacefully rocking surface. I opened my eyes a bit wider and had to blink several times as the beauty of the One before me filled me. He was dressed in the pure bright white of a star, with a crown of gold resting on His regal head. His hair matched almost perfectly the color of the pure gold of the crown. Oh, and oh His eyes! Loved engulfed me the moment our eyes met, love at first sight was no exaggeration, blue, oh how I loved the blue. He was standing at the opposite side of what I now realized was a canoe, an oar in his hand, which he dipped in the water with such grace.



We passed under an ark of water that sprinkled like morning dew around us both and made us shimmer in the night. Finally I took notice of my own garments, it was a robe, matching His in color, when I lifted my hands the light fabric of the sleeves spread in the wind almost as if they were wings. I lifted a hand to my head where I felt a delicate crown resting there perfectly in place. I lifted my eyes up to Him gingerly and He nodded, with clear satisfaction at my wonder.



Time, I didn’t understand the meaning of it in this place, but still it seemed to flash by like lightning for soon He had guided us to the shore. There he secured the canoe by the dock made of wood that seemed to sing with life if that were even possible… and there on that dock were a few people waiting, some faces I didn’t recognize but one was unmistakable. My father, my daddy, he was there, no, not my step father that cruel one who kept me heavy laden with burdens, oh no, this was my birthfather. This Prince gently and gingerly took my hands and I gracefully stepped out of the canoe, a humble pride shone in his eyes each second that he looked at me dressed in such enchanting white. But soon He turned His attention to my father, lifted His own regal crown off of his head, bowed to one knee and laid it before my father with such reverence that made me feel so precious for Him to love me so much to give up His own crown for me.



“Beloved, my Beloved, remember always that you are that to me.” He whispered tenderly in my ear, “My Bride, My Queen, will you follow me?” His fading voice was vaguely familiar as it trailed farther and farther away until it was no more then a whisper.



But as I opened my eyes the peace did not fade as His voice seemed to pass as I came back from that world, into one much less peaceful, to the one with more uncertainty then the clarity I had seen there. As the morning light filtered through the window and I heard a rooster crow somewhere far off, that face was not as familiar as it was only moments ago, and my mind soon thought it the face of another.





CHAPTER TWO



The other world, the dream that seemed more real then life lingered throughout the days that seemed to pass swiftly by. Buni Lidia’s funeral passed by in a daze, bits and pieces of them left a little imprint on my heart. At the church, I remembered an angelic voice echoing from the rafters where the handsome nameless still stranger sang and played the old pipe organ. His voice was smooth and strong and pure it seemed, and my mind kept going to him, which was ludicrous since I didn’t even know his name.



Soon it was Monday and my sister and I came to my aunt’s house, to speak of our next steps and where we could go with the supplies that had been donated. I was sitting comfortably on the worn out couch that had been set against the wall of the porch, my sister was staring somewhere far off on the chair next to the couch when Dariel and he walked up the rickety wooden steps.



Of course the thud in my heart must have been heard in the entire city when blue eyes met my eyes and sat right beside me, and I could not find a cure for my sudden blushing silence.



Dariel glimpsed my reddening face and winked, I could have slapped him.



“Alex, I forgot to introduce you, this is Evanthia my cousin and Radiana her sister. They’re visiting from the States.”



“Buna ziua,” the one who was no longer nameless greeted, “Great that your cousin finally had the genius idea of introduction.” he smiled his rueful smile.



Still mute and blushing me simply nodded and smiled a bit too brightly, and almost in a whisper said my hello. My sister not as susceptible to the charms of blue eyes since her own were the color of a clear summer sky, found it more wise to be direct and to the point.

“You like my sister don’t you?” she said not even blinking an eye, not saying hi, just that, nothing more. Though I kept my smile pasted to my face, I was silently scolding her with my eyes at the same time looking for a great big rock to hide under.



“Yup.” he said.



So that rock seemed to be no where near big enough by the flowers, um wait, what? There went my imagination at the speed of lightning once more telling me he said yes.



“What?” I nearly chocked.



“Yea I do.” he replied just as to the point as my sister had chosen to be.



Well, that was good and dandy but since I knew next to nothing of Alex, my ever creative mind could not create the next word. So thank God, literally thank God for aunt Miriam who just at that amazingly perfect moment came out of the kitchen across the porch with refreshments and some budinca, also known as pudding (but only as she could make it) to be set before us on the coffee table. This part of the porch served as a type of living room as well since there was no living room in the house.



“Okay my dear, tomorrow we will go to see the woman I was telling you about who’s husband just died. She’s very poor, in fact she’s had to give some of her children to the orphanage here in Cugir because she can’t take care of them.” She said matter of factly as she put the pudding mixed with fruits on a plate for each of us to enjoy. “But until then you should all go to the river since it’s too hot to be on the road now.”