water. Nothing.
I was left in the attic, without
food or drink, for four days before Opal appeared at the door. I was as near
death as a person deprived of water can be. I lay curled upon the bare floor,
my muscles contracted in spasms from lack of water. I had not given Opal the
pleasure of hearing me beg and scream for something to drink—but then again, by
the time I was ready to scream, my throat had been too dry to utter more than
croaking sounds.
Opal nudged me with the toe of her finely polished shoe. I
moved my mouth and tried to blink, but the lids scraped painfully across my dry
eyes. I gave up and kept them closed.
Opal squatted near me. “This must be your choice, Tabitha,”
she whispered.
I was, in some withered part of my mind, surprised to hear
my name, my real name, but I could not respond.
“This must be your choice,” Opal repeated. “You must choose
now if you wish to live or die. If you choose to die, very well. You will not
suffer much longer. Another day. Perhaps two, at the most.”
I turned her words over in my head. It was hard to think, to
string the thoughts together and make them stay put. Another day. Perhaps
two. I was past the frantic pain of thirsting. It would not be too hard
to . . . let go.
“However, if you choose to live, you must decide now that things will be different.” Opal’s voice cut through my confused thoughts.
“If you choose to live, you must change your mind and do all I expect of you.
No more rebellions. No more problems. Do you understand?”
As best as my distressed mind could, I weighed the two
options. Slipping farther away would be easier. The worst was over.
Except for the sudden niggle, a
frisson of fear that quivered its way through my chest.
“If you choose to live, Tabitha, you must capitulate to me. Now .
Choose, Tabitha. If you agree to surrender to me, open your eyes.”
She waited for my answer.
That fear, the fear of death , trembled in my breast.
The door to eternity loomed before me, and what lay beyond it terrified me. I
could not let go. I wanted to! Oh, I wanted to! I wanted to slip into oblivion,
to float far away from all pain and sorrow.
But the fear in my heart was not convinced that painless
bliss awaited me if I let go. I was scared of what lay on the other side. I was
not ready to die, and I knew it.
Opal urged me to surrender to her and live. She urged me to
choose.
Choose? Did I have any choices left? No, choice for me was
dead.
And so I was beaten. I had fought long and hard, but I was
defeated.
As real, as vivid as the
unmistakable rending of a length of fabric, I heard— I felt —my
will and my heart tear apart. My broken willfluttered downward, into the abyss. What remained of my heart lay
bleeding and mortally wounded in my breast.
I opened my eyes and surrendered.
Tabitha dropped into a silent preoccupation with her own
thoughts. Rose turned from her scribbled notes to watch her.
“What are you thinking now, Tabitha?” she asked gently.
Surprised from her reverie, the red-haired woman smiled.
“Actually, I was thinking of how, at what could be deemed the second-lowest
point in my life, God reached out to me.”
Intrigued, Rose leaned forward. “Tell me what you mean.”
“I could not have known it then, but the fear I felt, the
fear that kept me from choosing death, kept me alive for the next thirteen
years. And even though I thought that I had come to the end of myself, I still
had not reached out to God, had not called out to him.”
“And?”
“And I think he placed that fear in me so that I would
choose to live. He kept me going, kept me alive, all those years that followed
after, so that when just the right time came, my heart would be ready.”
“ In the fullness of time, God sent his Son ,” Rose whispered.
“Yes. In the fullness of time . ” Tabitha’s mouth
quirked in wry humor, “I thought I was at the bottom, but I had not yet reached
the end of myself, the place where
I was left in the attic, without
food or drink, for four days before Opal appeared at the door. I was as near
death as a person deprived of water can be. I lay curled upon the bare floor,
my muscles contracted in spasms from lack of water. I had not given Opal the
pleasure of hearing me beg and scream for something to drink—but then again, by
the time I was ready to scream, my throat had been too dry to utter more than
croaking sounds.
Opal nudged me with the toe of her finely polished shoe. I
moved my mouth and tried to blink, but the lids scraped painfully across my dry
eyes. I gave up and kept them closed.
Opal squatted near me. “This must be your choice, Tabitha,”
she whispered.
I was, in some withered part of my mind, surprised to hear
my name, my real name, but I could not respond.
“This must be your choice,” Opal repeated. “You must choose
now if you wish to live or die. If you choose to die, very well. You will not
suffer much longer. Another day. Perhaps two, at the most.”
I turned her words over in my head. It was hard to think, to
string the thoughts together and make them stay put. Another day. Perhaps
two. I was past the frantic pain of thirsting. It would not be too hard
to . . . let go.
“However, if you choose to live, you must decide now that things will be different.” Opal’s voice cut through my confused thoughts.
“If you choose to live, you must change your mind and do all I expect of you.
No more rebellions. No more problems. Do you understand?”
As best as my distressed mind could, I weighed the two
options. Slipping farther away would be easier. The worst was over.
Except for the sudden niggle, a
frisson of fear that quivered its way through my chest.
“If you choose to live, Tabitha, you must capitulate to me. Now .
Choose, Tabitha. If you agree to surrender to me, open your eyes.”
She waited for my answer.
That fear, the fear of death , trembled in my breast.
The door to eternity loomed before me, and what lay beyond it terrified me. I
could not let go. I wanted to! Oh, I wanted to! I wanted to slip into oblivion,
to float far away from all pain and sorrow.
But the fear in my heart was not convinced that painless
bliss awaited me if I let go. I was scared of what lay on the other side. I was
not ready to die, and I knew it.
Opal urged me to surrender to her and live. She urged me to
choose.
Choose? Did I have any choices left? No, choice for me was
dead.
And so I was beaten. I had fought long and hard, but I was
defeated.
As real, as vivid as the
unmistakable rending of a length of fabric, I heard— I felt —my
will and my heart tear apart. My broken willfluttered downward, into the abyss. What remained of my heart lay
bleeding and mortally wounded in my breast.
I opened my eyes and surrendered.
Tabitha dropped into a silent preoccupation with her own
thoughts. Rose turned from her scribbled notes to watch her.
“What are you thinking now, Tabitha?” she asked gently.
Surprised from her reverie, the red-haired woman smiled.
“Actually, I was thinking of how, at what could be deemed the second-lowest
point in my life, God reached out to me.”
Intrigued, Rose leaned forward. “Tell me what you mean.”
“I could not have known it then, but the fear I felt, the
fear that kept me from choosing death, kept me alive for the next thirteen
years. And even though I thought that I had come to the end of myself, I still
had not reached out to God, had not called out to him.”
“And?”
“And I think he placed that fear in me so that I would
choose to live. He kept me going, kept me alive, all those years that followed
after, so that when just the right time came, my heart would be ready.”
“ In the fullness of time, God sent his Son ,” Rose whispered.
“Yes. In the fullness of time . ” Tabitha’s mouth
quirked in wry humor, “I thought I was at the bottom, but I had not yet reached
the end of myself, the place where
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