Letters From Mamfre
A short story/Flash Fiction by Ziya
About: A recent convert steps out in faith. She’s confronted by the road to obedience and learns to listen to the inner workings of the Holy Spirit.
PART 1: LANDING
DAY 1:
My mind is foggy. In my hasty planning, I almost forgot to change my sim card to the local one.
I hitch a ride on one of the local taxis, we drive past old French-style buildings that create a sharp contrast with the new modern skyrise apartments.
We pass through the busy central district. Abuzz with men pushing mango carts. There’s so many of them, the taxi scraps one of the carts. I’m tempted to scold the taxi driver but he’s already muttering countless apologies.
We make it out the buzzing city centre and escape into cottages and farmland. For a while, I can almost romanticise this trip. I look out the window and let the hillside and soft hum of the radio wrap me up into it’s simple grandeur.
We run through more hills and abandoned farmhouses before finally reaching the idyllic small town. Through the window, I face the green fingerboard sign. It reads: “Welcome to Mamfre.”
I pay the taxi man as I step out into the sticky summer air. I let the warm heat of sun evaporate through my beige t-shirt now damp with sweat.
Everything seems so unfamiliar but I’m here, I’m finally here.
DAY 2:
Back home I was surrounded by familiarity, I could anticipate what my day would be like, I recognised the garden birds and the stray cats.
This journey is teaching me to take things easy and as they come. To be expectant, to anticipate what it would be like to be wonderfully surprised.
But there’s a sharp contrast to the hope I’m feeling, almost like an element of confrontation. I feel an unravelling taking place.
DAY 3:
I can’t help but feel like I’m making a mistake. The move seems abrupt and unplanned.
In a sudden flick, the lights went off. The phone’s flashlight won’t last me long before it depletes the rest of the cell phone battery so I’m off to locate a torch in the dusty garage. I find one and return to the safety of the living room.
The physical state of darkness I find myself in tonight doesn’t scare me nearly as much as not knowing what the future holds.
I sift through my handbag to find a dried up packet of potato crisps, a granola bar and the book I bought from the airport bookstore. I munch on the granola bar and get lost in the sci-fi mystery till my eyes can’t take the semi-darkness anymore. I’ll get on the phone with the landlord first thing tomorrow to get the lights fixed. For now, I let myself sink into the comfort of sleep.
DAY 4:
I wake up early to head to the local grocery store. A girl can only do so much with a granola bar and potato crisps.
When I return, I find her waiting for me — my landlord. She leans on her Fiat 900.
Her ebony hair blows languidly in the wind. We exchange a few pleasantries before moving on to discuss the electricity outage issue. Only my place has been affected, possibly due to a main switch overload or faulty wiring. The Hard-rock Café t-shirt she has on reminds me of my waitressing days at that coffee franchise back home.
DAY 5:
Fixing the electricity didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would. When it’s finally fixed, I walk the landlord out together with the team of repairman.
On the path back, I notice a Frangipani tree blossoming in the neighbour’s garden.
I love how it seems so sure of itself — so firmly rooted and unshakeable.
DAY 6:
“Never too far gone.” Do you remember saying those words. Reminding me that no matter how bad the damage, the Lord is still able to unwind the mess and mend things. How He’s able to turn things around, always able to get us out the worst pits. Able to complete the sanctifying work in us through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes guilt gets the best of me, chewing me up and leaving me in a ball of shame.
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The words that you spoke on that April morning have left an imprint in my mind. I’m beginning to realise that unlike remorse, regret is in fact just an offshoot of condemnation. It’s just a bad offshoot that grows like weeds needing to be stopped at the root before they destroy a beautiful garden.
The past holds no reign, nor does any bondage have power. God reigns. Whenever thoughts of condemnation arise, I need to remember that I am forgiven.
2. ORDINARY MARVELS
DAY 7:
I managed to get up early to witness the first moments of the waking sun.
I love how the sun wraps it’s everglow tentacles around everything it touches, sprinkling the entire room with a touch of gold.
It always so mesmerising. As I was making a pot of oats, I first saw little twinkles of light coming out the clouds. Slowly, the huge fiery star emerged with the brightest rays flashing gently through the window. It’s moments like this that make me cherish early rises.
I remind myself that if I just take things gently, I’ll be open to receive the unexpected unfolding of something good right before my eyes just like this morning. I just need to wait patiently and expectedly.
DAY 8:
Perhaps there’s more to worship than just singing and lifting our hands before the altar. Could letting go be a form of worship? Not just letting it go into nothingness but rather, as an act of laying our hearts before God, the act of entrusting God with all our heart’s desires. Much like surrender actually.
Case in point, the story of Hannah. She could have easily been justified to want to hold on to baby boy Samuel a bit longer. She had waited for so long, endured so much. But she didn’t go back on her word, she kept her promise, dedicating baby boy Samuel back to God. So maybe surrender is what worship looks like sometimes.
In the same way she had entrusted God while she was still praying (before her heart’s desire was fulfilled), she trusted God with the blessing even after God had granted her heart's desire. And maybe that’s what worship is, entrusting God with the things we love and trusting that His love can fill us up more than the anything else out there.
She didn’t let the blessing take hostage over her heart, God still took center stage. And it’s that balance of worship that has me entranced, Leaving it all in God’s hands.
Letting go is never easy, especially when all you want to do is hold on to all things precious and special in your life.
As I take a deep breath of the crisp Mamfre wind, I’m reminded that we can give back what we love to Love Himself. We can trust Him with the things we love.
When I think about my situation, the fact that I’m in a foreign land, leaving behind a life I once idolised to a point of compromise, I’m left wondering what the future holds. In time, and in view of eternity, I know that it’ll prove worthwhile. Life in Him is the greatest win.
It’s not easy — this road. Remember me in your prayers, I’m in desperate need of clarity and encouragement to see this through.
DAY 9:
Ever since that April morning, things have never been quite the same. Nothing prepared me for this move. Even now, I have no idea what’s next.
Today, a stirring wakes me, the same stirring that propelled me to make this sudden move, now urging me to head over to the neighbour’s house. I don’t want to follow through with it. I get flashbacks from days ago when I tried throwing-in quick glances over the fence in hopes of slipping in a courteous wave. But it all resulted in unfriendly awkwardness.
But I went on with it, remembering that these little inner nudgings are anything but miniscule. But I felt stupid walking through that overgrown meadow, scared of what I’d say. An agonising itch raced across my legs from the overgrown grass taking over the footpath leading to the front door.
Before I could even entertain the thought of going back the same way I came, my hand was already at the door knocking.
Sending a grimace of annoyance, she (the neighbour) uttered: “What are you doing here? It wasn’t at all pleasant, but I was compelled to get through with it. I took a deep breath and smiled. I don’t know how I managed to conjure a single sentence that made sense, but I spoke. Words came out my mouth. By the end of my anxious chattering, she invited me into her home to have tea, right in that instant. Can you imagine?
And you know what, it was lovely. My misconceptions were so wrong. To the onlooker she’s hostile but inside, she’s a real softy. She’s been through a lot … I guess the cliche goes to show that there’s more than what meets the eye. All around it seems, hearts are hungry for forgiveness and kindness.
We spend hours inside with a pot of tea and coconut cookies, sharing tales of past lives.
On Friday, I’ll gladly be back to cut the untameable meadow of grass and wildflowers growing all over the yard. And just like that I’ve made a friend, a friend who’s old enough to be my grandmother, but a friend nonetheless.
DAY 10:
I’ve always heard people talk about trusting the Lord completely even when you don’t know what the road ahead beholds. “Just step out in faith” they said. I thought those people were stretching it a bit. What do you mean, just take a leap of faith? I guess I’ve always been an overthinker, wanting to figure everything out before leaping — control disguised as precaution.
But now that I’m here, sipping tea with a new friend and stepping into things I’d never imagined myself stepping into, I realise that maybe falling or failing is not the scariest thing out there. Going through things alone, without His guiding hand. Without the Lord leading, that’s the scary part.
DAY 11:
Just like that Frangipani tree I saw days after I first arrived, I think that sometimes as believers we get re-potted in new and unfamiliar soil so that we can learn to grow deeper roots in fertile soil. And once we get used to the newness of it all, we get to grow in a bigger space, with our roots firmly rooted in Christ. And where Christ is, good fruit blossoms.
** End **
