I recalled
screams of agony pierce the night
air. My heart was heavy with
distraught as my eyes scanned the
room catching the tormented faces of
sickened horror of my mother and
father. Again, my sister’s shrill
voice, barely recognizable as human,
sounded from the other room. Tears
streamed down my face as I only
could imagine what fate lied in wait
for my sister Mara.
I knew somehow, though, that my
imagination could not possibly
capture to any degree the magnitude
of their wickedness as I caught
glimpses through the door crack
until I could not bear to look any
longer. The ravages of war had not
prepared my young eyes for such
sights and sounds as the country I
loved laid in ruins, utterly
destroyed much like that of my
family’s on this day. My world as I
understood it crumbled and toppled
before me as a fortress built upon
sand and water.
My mind whispered sweet memories of
my sister into recollection as I
understood these were to be the last
moments with her ever again. I
prayed to be with her, to offer her
comfort and a warm hand to hold as
the warmth of her life slowly ebbed
away until even the murmurs and
groans soon disappeared. In the
silence I waited, I waited for my
turn. The house was eerily quiet. I
was afraid to breathe, to disturb
this haunting image of peace however
fleeting. Footsteps, low murmurs and
shuffling sounded from the other
room. Our small family home once
again sprung to life as there was an
influx of activity. Our family home,
home to four members, now to three.
These old walls clothed us with
memories of first kisses, financial
hardships, love and life lessons
learned. My memories turned dark as
hate replaced the love that was once
within this sanctuary. Even my own
home betrayed me now: once the
keeper of sacred treasures within my
heart now housed my enemy.
My last vivid recollection was of my
mother’s screams of anguish as two
rebel soldiers dragged her into the
other room to witness the barbarity
of this senseless civil war. I
remember looking back towards the
direction of the house, long after
the ring of gun shots still played
within my ears, amazed at the
brilliant fire that seemed to roar
up to the heavens as the thick dark
clouds formed in the dark night air.
I pushed myself to run faster and
further as my eyes brimmed with
tears. My father’s sweet face
captured my thoughts as I regretted
not being able to say all that had
been locked up within my heart since
this horror began. But, there had
been no time; no time to place shoes
on stocking feet as my father helped
maneuver me out the window and into
freedom.
“No time”, I said aloud as the ache
of my body and cold feet covered in
fresh falling snow propelled me
forward, further into an unknown
future; a future without a home to
call my own and a place to rest my
weary body teetering on collapse.
Thankful for the cover of night sky,
I lay down for an eternity, hoping
that the darkness of death would
overshadow me, would envelop me into
a refugee of peace that would enable
an escape the bleak darkness that
overtook my life. Tears streamed
down my face as I felt the silent
call of my name moving me closer to
the memories. Memories that loomed
above, threatening to wreak havoc
into my new existence. I let go of
all fears. I felt myself plummeting
forward into darkness once again. A
place I dared not venture for fear
of my sanity breaking. I questioned
why God had forsaken me during my
darkest hour.
Then, as I realized that God had
been there all along, guiding and
directing me to safety, there was a
release. Gone was the stony heart of
trapped fear, pain and sorrow. It
had been replaced with love; a love
of life and the blessing I was given
to experience it.
I stood to my feet, quietly
trembling. I felt the call again
prompting me to move forward, each
painful step at a time. My eyes
opened as if for the first time a
newborn babe must view the world. I
wiped my eyes and as the heavy veil
of hatred and deception was lifted,
I focused unto a new day filled with
hope and possibility. I took one
step forward. I scanned my
surroundings and rested my gaze upon
a sweet smiling face of an older
man. He became the temporary
replacement for my father,
encouraging me to take another step
forward, to move beyond those last
27 years into the brightness of new
life, new realizations.
As I made my way to the front of
church altar, purposely dedicating
each step to the wonderful new hope
that beamed forth, I gave my life to
Jesus. Twenty-seven years later, the
memories still linger of a family
lost and a home that was destroyed,
but not the hope and faith of a
young woman. Today, my family and
home reside within the Kingdom of
God.
Mishele Ecker
ShaleJustice@yahoo.com.
www.geocities.com/shalejustice/Divine_Designs.html
I have been born and raised within
Toronto for 35 years. My current
employment as an Employment
Counselor with at-risk youth has
enabled to work amongst a broad
range of talented and truly creative
individuals inspiring a great wealth
of experiences to draw from. The
short story that I have composed,
“The Call of Home”, has been
wonderfully crafted from a variety
of personal stories from family and
friends and of course been touched
by the hand of God.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced with permission of author
