A Pastor's Daughter's Diary

Rapha

Dear Jesus,

"What?" he said, his voice laced with disbelief and surprise.

"I said I'm coming with you." I said firmly, looking directly at his grey eyes with a boldness I never knew I had.

"We don't have time to waste. Go get your brother. I'm gonna go tell my parents."

As he went to fetch his brother who was engrossed in a game of tic-tac-toe with Patricia, I went inside to tell Mom and Dad about the issue at hand.

Since we were almost rounding up the program, Mom suggested that Dad should accompany us. Dad went to call Mrs Hewett and Pris. Their home is near to John's so Dad felt it would be better to kill two birds with one stone.

Once we entered the car, Priscilla started gushing over how she enjoyed the party so much. She wondered aloud about why they had to leave so early and why I was following them this time. I summed up the situation to her in the fastest possible way.

Seeing that she only knew John and his brother as near but faraway neighbours, she tried starting a polite conversation with them. They were both in their few words mode, probably worried sick about their Mom and wishing the car could fly.

Mrs Hewett sat in the front seat beside dad while the rest of us sat in the back. I somehow overheard their conversation.

She was apologizing again to Dad about the first impression she made. I was laughing on the inside. Now she realises that she was like an angry ugly duckling that day?

Though she was initially uptight, I saw how well she related with other women in the party, particularly mom.

She's cute and nice when she isn't drunk and angry. I like this side of her better. I hope, dear Lord, that she meets you for real. Let her know your love and joy. Let her be born into the family. Let her see the light, just as you shined on me.

Dad dropped her and daughter off at their house. John gave directions. Their house was just on the street adjacent Priscilla's. It wasn't far at all.

I had absolutely no idea why you wanted me to go. I mean, I hardly know anything about the Walkers. Only excerpts: bits and pieces from what you showed me in the vision and what John told me.

I was in for a shock. A blockbuster shock at what you were about to do.

Their house was a little cottage, sandwiched between two large houses in Mangrone Strait.
Mind you, it was already getting dark. The house was dimly lit.

Dad greeted Mr Walker. He was tall and had a large build. His eyes were grey, hinging almost on blue. I now know where John got those captivating eyes. His American accent was smooth. But he looked so worried and spoke few words gruffly. I saw when his boys got that trait from.

Dad didn't waste time. He told Mr Walker to take us to her.

The air of the room where Mrs Walker was kept was thick with the scent of antiseptics. It was as if we were in an hospital ward. But that wasn't what made me gasp upon entering the room.

The lone figure I saw shivering on the bed was far worse than what I saw in the vision. Had she deteriorated that fast within three days?

One could see that she was beautiful but the sickness had taken its toll on her beauty. Her eyes were sunken and she was gasping intermittently for breath. Her face was pale as if all her blood had frozen still.

Tears of compassion welled up in my eyes. My heart ached.

"Oh God! She's your daughter not the devil's toy," my inner voice cried out to you.