"Thymes and seasonings" [Writer's contest 3]

Hello there, it’s me again. I know you are wondering at the title of this piece and thinking to yourself; ‘what’s with this girl and food’. Well, as much as I love good food, and I’d love to share some of my recipes with you, I won’t be talking about either in here. Rather, I’d be sharing with you some of my ‘weird’ perceptions (lol).

Ever heard of this ‘important’ group of people called:

‘The sons of...’

Aha! Got you there (Grins). Well, whether you’ve caught the drift or not, sit back, relax and with a cup of well brewed hot chocolate (or whatever joy food you desire), carefully unfold the revealed story.

*********

I had arrived at the venue with lots of expectation, having heard raging testimonies about such kinds of meetings. I desired to experience this other side of the fellowship which I was relatively new to, having attended major meetings once or twice but never this kind of meeting.

It started with the worship session.

Oh what joy that filled my soul as the simplistic beauty of the string instrument washed over and into the crevices of my heart, refreshing my thirsty spirit. Though I didn’t know the lyrics of the song by mind, they felt familiar by heart and so in that moment, I simply lifted up my hand, and joined in the worship, humming gently each tune, till they spilled over in tears.

Not long after, a young man came up to lead us in prayers. It wasn’t the everyday kind of boring, cliché pattern of prayer points I was used to, this was different.

It was radical and fervent, yet subtle and you could feel the static of Power as it buzzed in the atmosphere, with the organized frenzy of everyone praying at the same time in different dialects of spiritual and bodily language. The hairs on my body stood attentive as a strange hot sensation burned in my heart and in my ears and with passion new to me, I joined in the prayers.

**********

“Turn the pages of your bible to the book of...” Having been so caught up in the fervency of the prayers that I had become oblivious of my surroundings; my eyes flew open at the sound of the familiar voice that pierced my subconscious. It turned out to be that of the president of the fellowship who had invited me specially, to the meeting. As I turned around to pick up my bible in response to his instruction, my eyes met the hands of the clock on the adjacent wall and my pupils dilated with surprise; O boy! I had prayed for a stretch period of two hours without feeling faint, I who could barely manage to endure thirty minutes of prayer on a good day. Absorbing the shock, to ponder over it at a later time, I quickly joined them in turning to and reading:

1 Chronicles 12:32 (YLT):

NAME:  Jennifer Akankali