His Call for the Seasons by J. A. Reid

Author:J. A. Reid [Reid, J. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781512734287
Publisher: WestBow Press
Published: 2016-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

Ninety: Cutting

For God so loved the world…. John 3:16

Tamara sat huddled in her bedroom in the old rocker, once belonging to her grandma, lost in those heavy, tormenting thoughts that were so much a part of her. The room was dark with the stereo blaring music that was almost as tormenting as her thoughts, yet strangely echoed them in a comforting way. She held the sharp, silver blade in her hand exposing the pale slim arms to the eerie night light with the purple bulb on her bedside table. Former scratches were exposed to view as she gently laid the fine, silver edge to her skin. Tears came to her eyes as she drew blood for another painful moment.

The music blared on in maudlin strains, at some point almost encouraging the cuts she brought forth. As the blood oozed, she felt that familiar peace. Why? Who knew? It just seemed to appease her that’s all. She got up, turned off the lamp and covered her arm from view and lay down to sleep.

There now. All was better. The tormenting thoughts went away for a short while but she knew they’d be back: to accuse, to demand, to punish, to hurt…

At another home nearby, Chelsea opened her Bible to Matthew 25:40…Those sweet words of Jesus, saying “..whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it for me…” brought to mind her friend, Tamara. Chelsea had seen the uncovered forearms of Tamara and even though Tamara tried to hide the marks, Chelsea had seen them. “Lord, how can I help her?” As she poured over her Bible looking for direction, she came to the passage … “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28. Tamara definitely had that need.

……As her cell phone rang, Tamara rolled over and saw Chelsea’s name come up on the screen. She didn’t really feel like talking but answered the call anyway.

“Can I come over Tamara?” It was almost 8 p.m. but Chelsea seemed so persistent, so Tamara gave her assent.

When Chelsea reached Tamara’s home, Mrs. Ramirez answered the door and graciously let Chelsea in. As Chelsea headed to the back bedroom, she noticed the darkness of the hallway with the black paint that newly marked Tamara’s bedroom door and the darkly purplish glow of the night light showing underneath. Tamara slowly opened her bedroom door to let in Chelsea.

“What’s up?” She asked in a husky, low voice, like maybe she had been crying.

“I’ve been worried about you, Tamara,” Chelsea answered honestly, entering the room as her eyes scanned the surroundings. “I’ve been praying for you, too. I-I feel I need to share something important with you.”

Tamara sat down, “Okay,” she responded simply.

“Tamara,” inwardly Chelsea prayed for God’s words to speak to Tamara. “I know you are cutting. I know and you know it is harmful—.”

“I don’t want to hear this Chelsea.” Tamara interrupted, putting her hands to her ears.

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