StirUpYourPower: Ease
I'm back with another flash fiction piece for the Advent devotional. Today's theme word is "ease," which comes from Amos 6:1. (I had to switch to the English Standard Version, since my usual translation uses the word "complacent" instead.
Anyway, for this entry, I took a bit of a different tack and went to illustrate a leader the opposite of that which the verse describes. Hope you enjoy!
"Woe to those who are at ease in Zion,
and to those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria,
the notable men of the first of the nations,
to whom the house of Israel comes!"
Easing In
The alarm clock blinked 5:30 as the beeping started. Her arm got chilled as she rolled over to slap the button on top, goosebumps spreading from wrist to shoulder. In the dark, she groped for her robe, hand brushing over the torso of the man next to her.
He stirred, albeit barely. “Five more minutes…” he mumbled sleepily.
She smiled. “You can have as much sleep as you want.”
He raised a fist to rub his right eye, the one not buried in the pillow. “Why’re you up so early?”
“It’s my first day,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“You were up just as late as me last night,” he said, the edge of a whine in his rough voice. “Surely one day sleeping in won’t kill you.”
“Not kill me, but fill me with woe. Such woe!” She finished dramatically, flinging her arm over her forehead with comic emphasis.
Laughing, she saw him struggle against a smile.
“But seriously,” she said, now swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “We knew what we were signing up for. These next four years are going to be anything but a life of ease.”
“Well, it could be. The last guy -” She cut him off with a glare of such ferocity he remembered how she had been able to weather eleven grueling months of attacks.
“I was kidding,” he added hurriedly. “Always kidding. Screw the last guy, this is your time.”
“I sure hope so,” she said. “But remember, at least a third of the people hate me, so no time to be complacent.”
“I don’t need reminding. Nor do you,” he added gently, sitting up to rub her arm. “Try to remember the part that does support you, too. You’re not in this alone. You can ease into it.”
She leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I know. But thank you for saying it. I’ll see you when you get up.”
Tucking her robe tight and tying the blue sash, she stood up, feet cloaked in think wool socks. The room wasn’t as cold as she was expecting, but it could still be warmer. She’d have to see about that, after breakfast.
She padded quietly to the window as she heard her husband fall back down into the sheets and sigh into sleep. Poor dear really was exhausted.
But she - she was too energized to feel the fatigue. She pulled back the curtains and looked out over the vast lawn, perfectly mowed, to the skeleton of the revue stand on Pennsylvania Avenue beyond. On the next pass, her eyes found the fountain, rimmed in tulips and hyacinth just waiting to burst forth into the sun, when the conditions were right. For now, the seeds were hugged by the earth, preparing. That, it seemed to her, was the very definition of hope.
Well, she thought, inhaling deeply of the crisp January air. Time to get cracking.
Anyway, for this entry, I took a bit of a different tack and went to illustrate a leader the opposite of that which the verse describes. Hope you enjoy!
"Woe to those who are at ease in Zion,
and to those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria,
the notable men of the first of the nations,
to whom the house of Israel comes!"
Easing In
The alarm clock blinked 5:30 as the beeping started. Her arm got chilled as she rolled over to slap the button on top, goosebumps spreading from wrist to shoulder. In the dark, she groped for her robe, hand brushing over the torso of the man next to her.
He stirred, albeit barely. “Five more minutes…” he mumbled sleepily.
She smiled. “You can have as much sleep as you want.”
He raised a fist to rub his right eye, the one not buried in the pillow. “Why’re you up so early?”
“It’s my first day,” she said, stifling a yawn.
“You were up just as late as me last night,” he said, the edge of a whine in his rough voice. “Surely one day sleeping in won’t kill you.”
“Not kill me, but fill me with woe. Such woe!” She finished dramatically, flinging her arm over her forehead with comic emphasis.
Laughing, she saw him struggle against a smile.
“But seriously,” she said, now swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “We knew what we were signing up for. These next four years are going to be anything but a life of ease.”
“Well, it could be. The last guy -” She cut him off with a glare of such ferocity he remembered how she had been able to weather eleven grueling months of attacks.
“I was kidding,” he added hurriedly. “Always kidding. Screw the last guy, this is your time.”
“I sure hope so,” she said. “But remember, at least a third of the people hate me, so no time to be complacent.”
“I don’t need reminding. Nor do you,” he added gently, sitting up to rub her arm. “Try to remember the part that does support you, too. You’re not in this alone. You can ease into it.”
She leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I know. But thank you for saying it. I’ll see you when you get up.”
Tucking her robe tight and tying the blue sash, she stood up, feet cloaked in think wool socks. The room wasn’t as cold as she was expecting, but it could still be warmer. She’d have to see about that, after breakfast.
She padded quietly to the window as she heard her husband fall back down into the sheets and sigh into sleep. Poor dear really was exhausted.
But she - she was too energized to feel the fatigue. She pulled back the curtains and looked out over the vast lawn, perfectly mowed, to the skeleton of the revue stand on Pennsylvania Avenue beyond. On the next pass, her eyes found the fountain, rimmed in tulips and hyacinth just waiting to burst forth into the sun, when the conditions were right. For now, the seeds were hugged by the earth, preparing. That, it seemed to her, was the very definition of hope.
Well, she thought, inhaling deeply of the crisp January air. Time to get cracking.