Updated: Jan 30
I sat on the steps wondering to myself when she would finally speak. She had been watching me for a while and I knew she had heard me reading from one of my books. That had to be the reason she kept sitting so close to me.
I could see her out of the corner of my eye sipping her coffee very slowly. She was studying me. It was like she had become obsessed with trying to hear me say something, anything, and I couldn’t figure out why. My books are filled with so many different concepts that I’m not exactly sure what caught her attention. I just know she‘s waiting to hear more.
As I contemplated just getting up and going home, I could hear her moving her chair across the concrete. The scratching made a high pitch sound that immediately caused me to close my eyes. When I opened them back up there she was, standing right in front of me. “Hello.”
“So, ok… this is going to sound a little creepy, but I come here all the time and last week you were sitting in this same spot, and I was sitting over there in that same spot, and I heard you reading from one of your note books.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I do that.”
“What you were reading sounded almost Biblical. So tell me the truth, you really wrote everything that’s in those notebook’s?”
“What I heard sounded like it had to be inspired by a higher power.”
I almost told her a lie to avoid what I thought was about to follow, but conviction wouldn’t allow me not to own the situation. After I told her that I did write everything in the composition books she looked at me like she was in shock.
“You must be a Christian Right? If not, I know you’re something like one, because what I heard you reading sounded like it had to be divinely inspired.”
That’s exactly the type of response that makes me avoid sharing my writings with anyone. The world is no different today than it was in the time of the holy books. People were killed then for claiming to be divinely inspired, and people would be killed today for the exact same reasons.
I knew it was time for me to go before she said anything else that someone might overhear. I grabbed up my things and thanked her for her compliment, before heading down the street as fast as I could.
“I know what I was shown. I just didn’t know if the world was ready to see the same.”
As I walked away I looked back a few times to see if she was talking to anyone, and she wasn’t. She was just waving good bye with a smile on her face.
Part of me was kind of glad that someone else besides me felt like my writings were inspired. I mean, I know what I was shown, I just didn’t know if the world was ready to see the same. However, the way she responded let me know that I could rest easy. The fact that she was ready meant others were ready as well. Maybe she was a sign that the time was coming when I would need to share some of what I was given. If she was a sign, I wasn’t ready for it at all.