A Pastor's Daughter's Diary

The Visit

Dear Jesus,

It's late afternoon as I write to you.
I didn't go to school.

I won't be going until maybe when the school calls us to come get the customized suit and tie we would wear on our Valedictory Service day. I was able to take my yearbook picture after the last paper of SCE.

Not going to school is currently a blessing in perfect disguise for me. I mean, if all this fake news issue had happened while I was still daily going to school, maybe I would have been stripped down to the skeletal remains of myself. *Shudders at the thought*

Our results will be released in a fortnight. I pray for the best, though I must admit I am a little bit anxious.

I'm anxious because I have to get an high score to be considered when I apply into McChyenne College.
I choose to cast my cares upon you. It's not easy, but I'll try.

Moreover, I figured going for volunteer work, instead of staying at home like a lazy bag of beans doing nothing but taking up space, will be the best bet for me.

What do you think, Jesus. A good idea, right? Let me know what you think and where to go, if you say yes.

Mr Walker called Dad a few minutes ago (I eavesdropped on their conversation while I was in the library searching for a book to read before coming here to my room).

*Holds hands up in mock surrender* Hey! Don't blame me, blame the ears you gave me. It was involuntary. It isn't as if I should have blocked my ears with cotton swabs or something.

I want to change my dress into something more appropriate. I don't think the armless top and pleated skirt I'm currently wearing will do. I don't want to freak them out when they sight my cross tattoo. Plus, it won't hurt to look presentable before our guests.

Hey! Don't give me that look that I feel you giving me.
I'm being honest here. Cross my heart.
You don't believe me?

It's not funny. Stop laughing *gives a pitiful pleading look*.
Let's pinky swear on it then.
Urgh!

Time's going. Gotta get dressed.

4:12pm.

Ding dong! Our doorbell echoed through the house.

"I'll get it," I yelled to those who cared to listen and raced out my room, down the stairs to the front door.

After literarily digging into my wardrobe closet in search of the perfect dress, like a mole rat digging a hole, I settled for my purple full-skirted gown.

I was tired of the:
'No!', 'can't do!', 'uh-huh!', 'definitely not!', 'strike!' and 'too drab!' exclamations I made as I literarily imploded my wardrobe, tossing out each dress after a cursory perusal unto my bed.

My wardrobe is presently a mess. I just dumped the whole pile of dresses right in.
I'll arrange it tomorrow, hopefully.

I had tactfully evaded all my mom's call from downstairs to come help her get things set for our guests.

But I raced down like a cat whose tail was on fire when I heard the doorbell ring.
God forgive me. And I hope Mom doesn't remember to chide me for that.

"Ok Ray, just calm down," I whispered to myself and took in a deep breath.
I smoothened my gown and patted my hair which I had tied into a bun.

I opened the door and I had to chain my heart from flying out my mouth when I saw John at the door.
It was only him. I looked puzzled. Wasn't it supposed to be a family visit?

"May I come in?" He said. And he was smiling at me. More like a smirk.

Had I been staring at his grey eyes again? They just never cease to fascinate me. It's almost like they're calling for me to get lost in their magical swirl.