BENEATH HIS WING
He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shall thou trust:
Psalm 91:4
It’s the cockcrowing hour of midnight. The moonless sky is filled with stars and a flash of light just went behind a hill. Papa used to say the streaks of light were angels flying to those in need. My whole life has been one of believing in God’s power and of searching for the angels that walk among us. The ones sent to earth to help mankind. If only that light would come and give me peace from this dreadful anxiety.
That I’m aware of, not one prayer has been answered. God’s silence for the last six months has me uneasy. Is it because I’m so fearful? So angry? Is He truly ignoring me? Regretfully, “no” counts as a response. I hate it when fear squeezes my chest. I’m just so tired of this sense of dread and panic. If only sleep would come and give me peace.
The past is gone, but it exists in my mind. Memories of Papa comfort me. We roamed the woods of Stuart Manor. He taught me to kill and to skin animals. He called me his “Warrior Princess,” because I appeared to be fearless with him beside me. I was afraid at times, but I never backed up. He probably noticed, because he said, “Feel fear, but do not let it control you. Trust God. Stay calm.” I wonder what he thought about anger.
Darren hated that I excelled in the world our father loved. He was jealous of Papa’s pride in me. I know how to fish and to forage for wild plants. I can quickly build a debris shelter for the night. Dirt has never bothered me. Stepmum was as appalled as her son, but Papa would throw his head back and roar with laughter when she complained. Even in this dark night, that memory makes me smile.
Papa tried to find me a husband when he knew his health was failing, but I rejected them. Pretty much on sight. I was better with a gun than most of my suitors. They disapproved of my adventures with Papa. He didn’t demand that I chose, but he never lost hope of me finding someone. I refuse to settle. I want what he had with my mum. I remember the way he said her name, and the way his eyes sparkled.
Oh Papa . . . Papa. I miss you dearly. I sense that your worst fears are coming true. Darren seems to be planning something. He’s very pleased by whatever plans he has inside his nineteen-year-old brain. He and Stepmum have had their heads together a lot. She avoids my eyes, when I walk into the room. Their behavior triggers such a rage and a desire to fight. This feeling of malice is one of my greatest fears. It is a horrible sin.
You assured me that he is your son, but dear Papa . . . he’s nothing like you. Shouldn’t there be something of you in him? There’s nothing! Forgive me, but I seem to have lost control of the fury he incites. I relish standing and looking down onto his blond head. He should’ve never let me know that it bothered him. I simply cannot resist spiting him.
I feel your disapproval. I do realize my behavior is childish for a twenty-two-year-old woman, but I’m being honest. I am furious. I’m also feeling sorry for myself. Why did God take Mum and replace her with a cold stepmum? When you realized, you tried to make up for it. I treasure those years we spent in the wilderness together. I was amazed that Darren hated everything that you loved. Secretly . . . Papa, I was pleased.
My favorite times were around the campfires. I had you all to myself. You taught me to cook and to listen to the voices of nature. You were so chatty. I was hungry for stories of Mum and of your times together. I needed to hear how she adored me. Your love for her came through in so many ways. I want a love like that, or I will stay single.
Stepmum seems sad. Several times, I’ve felt like she wanted to talk, but she is nervous around me. My bitterness towards her and Darren is strong, and I fear my eyes reveal my feelings. She has never been a mum to me. Not even in the beginning before Darren was born. I want none of it now.
My anger may be a way of lashing out to stop the pain. I’m confused. I’m so hurt by all that’s been happening the last three months. Since your funeral, they’ve made me feel like this isn’t my home. You left this place to them, Papa. I’m an intruder. Even the servants have noticed their arrogance and are sad for the changes. They are kind to me.
I remember how you tried to explain why you made this decision. You believed Darren would be a good lord over the Stuart Manor. You prayed for him. You asked me to pray with you, and I did. I never dreamed I’d be unwelcome. I don’t mean to hurt you, but my life will never be the same with your son controlling this place. I regret not being a male.
Thank you for making sure in your will that I will never be destitute. I was devastated when you remarried. I’m sure that’s the reason you took me under your wing and taught me to survive in the wilderness that you loved. I would have withdrawn into myself, if you had left me here under Stepmum’s care. Thank you for the gift of your time.
Nanny says God has a plan for my life. I know that Scripture well. I’ve given some thought to being a nanny, until I decide what I want to do. She’s appalled by my thoughts and questions on that subject. She’s enjoying her retirement here at Stuart Manor. I visit her daily. She speaks highly of you. She likes to think of you and Mum together again.
She loves God’s word. I hear her voice tonight reading Scripture to me. Jeremiah 29:11, For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end
It’s a frightful thing to me, Papa, but I’m angry with God as well. Is what’s happening truly His plan for my life? Is there any hope for my future? There’s no peace in my heart tonight. I’m terrified of all the changes that I sense are coming to me. Apparently, change is going to torment me my whole life. Right along with tribulation.
BE YE ANGRY, AND SIN NOT: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: neither give place to the devil. Papa, Ephesians 4:26-27 torment me. The sun has been down for hours and yet I’m trembling with rage. You know how I dread the collywobbles. I fear the bitterness in my heart is taking root into my stomach. I feel the nausea of wrath.
Dear Lord, I’m talking to the wrong person. Jesus, please give me the strength and the power to accept Your will. I prayed for Papa. You let him die. He told me to trust You in all of life, but I’m afraid and I’m so angry that I’m sick. Please forgive me for being disrespectful and ungrateful, but I must be honest with You. Rage consumes my heart. Lord, help me! Is it righteous anger? Is it pride that’s giving me such grief?
God in heaven, what is my expected end? I can see no hope for the future. Is my destiny to be here in Scotland? Or is it to be in America? Where are You in all of this turmoil? Is an avenging angel coming over the hill to save me? Will I be destroyed by the ill will that I feel for Darren? I detest his smug look. Lord, is that pride that it bothers me so much? Have you noticed that look in his eyes?
Is Your silence a test, Lord? If it is, I’ve failed miserably. Your silence terrifies me. So does being so alone. I need You. I want to be the person that You want me to be, but I’ve failed that miserably, too. Please know that You matter to me. I want to do your will, but I can only do it in Your strength. Please forgive my sins of anger, spite and pride.
Dear Lord, Nanny’s voice is coming to me, as I search Your twinkling stars. “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart, Darcy Rose. Lean not unto your own understanding of your situation. Pray at all times, and believe He has a wonderful plan for your life.”
Those thoughts do help my tired mind. Earlier, I had put a hot rock at the foot of my bed and another at the top to warm it. I do dislike cold bedding. Perhaps an angel will wake me in the morning. If not, my trust is that God will be here just as surly as He was for King David so very long ago. Lord, I ask You to guide and to protect me tomorrow.
I laid me down and slept; I awaken; for the LORD sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people, that have set themselves against me round about. Psalm 3:5-6
Dear Readers, I hope I’ve made you curious about Darcy Rose’s destiny. She’s a fiery redhead that refuses to take the easy road of life. Her father made that possible for her. You may follow her adventures in my second book, Beneath His Wing. It is available on this blog and at Barnes and Noble. Search that place by my name, Patricia Gunn Hall. I would appreciate any and all feedback from you.
