Day #9: Zealous Anticipation by Amber Averay
The silence is broken only by a hollow gong to mark the passing of the hour. We kneel in rows of five, grey robes puddling about our legs, heads bowed in peaceful reflection. I’ve become so accustomed to this position now that my bones and muscles barely complain about holding the same position for hours at a time. Pain is nothing but a state of mind, anyway. That’s what he says, and he is incredibly wise. He has vowed to tell us only truth.
So I keep my thoughts full, reflecting on all the good that has found me since I joined Caleb’s family. I have a roof over my head, regular meals, social interactions, work that fulfils me, and – greatest of all – purpose. My life was meaningless before, just drifting through the motions of existence without true goals to focus me. But Caleb found me, and brought me home.
His family is my family. We are content, and often praise Caleb for his kindness, his selflessness, his generosity. He cares for us, guides us, loves us. He has opened my mind to endless possibilities’ shown me how I can make the best life for myself by accepting spirituality, believing in a higher power, shedding all doubts and giving myself to God – and, in doing so, giving myself to Caleb, too. He is God’s representative on Earth, and the goodness of his soul, the purity of his heart, shines through every smile he shares, resonates in every word he speaks.
He is God’s voice, and I listen. I listen with all my heart, knowing together both God and man saved me from a life of deprivation, dirtiness, despair.
With his encouragement and support I have rejected the lies of the past, the temptations of a life that cannot be mine, and discarded all that has no place in my world now. Sometimes people from Before come to the gates and try to call for me, but I ignore them. They are a bad influence, and my easily-manipulated mind cannot be risked. Caleb calls me his gentle soul, his dear innocent, and worries that They will corrupt the path to purity upon which I have sworn to tread.
I cannot risk stumbling. I have come so far. I wrote them a note, with Caleb’s help, and which he delivered to their hands while they yelled and pleaded at the fence. I assured them I was fine, well content, and that I had welcomed God into my life while rejecting all foul influences that I could live a blameless life. Oh, they vowed they would get me back, they would have Caleb arrested, destroy the family we’d created – but how does one arrest the preacher of God?
We are safe here, safer than anywhere beyond the fences and walls. Here we are all understood, appreciated, accepted.
Loved.
The bell gongs again, and that is the signal that our time for reflection is finished for today. I am glad, for my thoughts have become muddied, my heart heavy – as it always does when I think of those I used to call Mama, Daddy, and their other children. I wish they could just be happy for me. That they do not begrudge me this happiness I’ve found.
Silently we rise from our knees, not one person groaning or complaining about the ache in our bones or the prickles skittering through our limbs after hours of immobility. We do this for him. He assures us it’s to cleanse our souls, continue making us perfect – and who doesn’t want to achieve perfection?
I hear a voice outside the closed door, and my heart flutters with anticipation. It’s him! Caleb must be joining us today.
Despite the rule that there is to be no sound in the Prayer Room, we all exchange excited glances. It was rare for him to lead us in prayer after Reflections, something momentous must be afoot. We strain to hear, able to identify Caleb’s muffled voice but not the words he speaks.
The excitement increases, and a buzz fills the room though nobody says a word. The door opens and I glimpse him through the gap, though he’s at the other end of the hall beyond. A helper beckons for us to follow him, and in silence we file through the door and join the rest of the family in the hall. Caleb stands at the front, smiling benevolently at us all.
Though we’ve just spent the last three hours on our knees, we dutifully sink to sit cross-legged on the floor in tidy rows of ten and wait with simmering anticipation. For everyone to be brought together meant something huge was about to occur.
I can barely breathe for the excitement!
Caleb holds up a hand, and we all stare wide-eyed and adoring at the man who has saved us. Goodness radiates from him, and we bask in his reflected glory knowing it can only make us better.
‘My family, my beloved family, for some time now we have spoken of Enlightenment. Of Ascension. That when it is time, we will do this together for as we have lived and loved as one, we will Ascend as one. As you love me, know that I have prepared for this moment that we can all move forward together and leave none behind.’
Some of his helpers begin moving through the crowd, handing small cups with a clear liquid in them to each person. These are accepted reverently, cradled in hands shaking with expectation. I watch them out the corner of my eye, not wanting to miss a moment of Caleb’s speech.
‘This nectar of Heaven has been prepared for this day, for this moment. Together we make one, and as one we will Ascend to a higher plane and be closer than ever to God and His perfection!’ His eyes scan over us, and I like to think they land on me longer than they settle on any other. I feel valued, puffed up with importance.
Caleb smiles as I accept my nectar. ‘Drink with me, my beloved family! Drink now, and we will move beyond the pain, the fear of others’ ignorance and judgemental accusations. We will embark upon the transition to a place where you are loved by all as I love each and every one of you.’ He holds up his glass, a silent toast, and knocks it back quickly. ‘Blessings to you all. Join me on this momentous journey!’
Eagerly we all emulate him, imbibing our drinks swiftly and setting the cups down on the floor. Caleb sits on the dais, and already his form is becoming fuzzy about the edges. Light bleeds across my vision, and I keep my wavering gaze fixed solely on him.
My saviour. My strength.
Eyelids grow heavy, my heartbeat slows. Sounds are distorted, and I realise how tired I am. Prayer has exhausted me today. But the more we give in reflection, the greater our reward in the Afterlife.
Perhaps tomorrow I can give as much again. But I must sleep now. Tomorrow I can improve more…
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