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Be Held By Him: Finding God When Life Knocks You Off Your Feet

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Karen Brough

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“She stopped to inspect some of the blossoms on the almond trees and watched the butterflies flap tiny wings from the bushes to the skies. Oh, to have such freedom. Like a bird, they were not confined to the king's palaces or a specific set of rooms. If she thought on it overmuch, she had to admit that in her new life she felt more like a bird caged than one set free. And she missed her family. Not Mordecai, for she saw him often, but her cousins, their wives, the children. Especially the children. How long had it been since she had chased Isha through the house and taught the children of Noah! She walked past the almond trees, forcing her mind to ponder the beauty around her. Gratitude was a better choice than lonely complaints.”

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“There is no end to that kind of love, even if the lovers’ bodies ceased to exist in this world. No, that love is manifested everywhere else, in a million other couples worldwide, and probably a few not far from where I am driving, up the 405 freeway, through a world I thought I knew but admit that I don’t know at all.”

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“She appreciated her own reflection- she looked less than a tenth of her earthly age- but knew the years were bound to catch up. There had been a time or two when she had put a glamour on herself, to reverse those years, to remember and even to capture the attention of a young man so she could make the kind of vigorous love she had enjoyed before. But she wouldn't have tried to keep up the glamour permanently, or to create the violent kind of spells that she could have to remain in a state of perpetual youth. The crone cannot be a sage or wisewoman until she reaches beyond the shallow confines of her skin. Children of the earth must also change, like the seasons do. Autumn had seen herself in all these transitions: the tentative buds of spring; the heavy sensuality of summer. And now, like the fall, she was colorful and majestic but right on the verge of winter, to be stripped down to what was really important, the bare branches of what was true.”

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“Moths, large and white and fluttering in a manner just a little too bat-like, came out of hiding to revel in this unexpected dismissal of day. So too did fireflies: Rapunzel squealed in delight when, like tiny candles, they twinkled in slow, unhurried loops around grass. "Is this your mother's magic?" she shrieked, clawing at Gina's arm. " ARE THOSE FAIRIES ?" "No, those are lightning bugs, Princess," Flynn said with a sigh. "In-sects. Whose butts glow." "Right. I'm an idiot," Rapunzel said, trying to get one to land on her. "Because in real life, fairies aren't real but witches are." "Touché," he said good-naturedly, with a bow. Rapunzel felt her chest flutter.”

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Book:What Once Was Mine
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