As the morning climbed to noon, Emunah looked at her watch, “Soon.” Soon she would be entering  The Forest Where No Man Comes Out Unbroken, a forest with dark fairie magic that built a dark fairie town. Anxiousness fluttered up her stomach into her mind, trying to lure her into focusing on the journey’s end. She shut the thoughts down, focusing on each step at a time, whispering remembrances of all The King of All Kingdoms and His son had done for her. Anxiousness fled. . . Soon was just around the bend.

Henrietta had curled contentedly in the hooded fold of Emunah’s mantle, secured in a hammock of her braid.

“What if I miss our turn,” Emunah had fretted, fearful she wouldn’t be able to find the entrance. After all, she had no idea where she was going. The Clock Maker had told her the time-keeper watch he’d given her would let her know. Hannah had told her that she would soon find that the more she spent time with Praising The King of All Kingdom’s, she would soon find that her insight would keep apace of the time-keeper’s watch.

“But I have no idea of where to turn off the road?” Emunah persisted, wanting the security of a map showing all the hills, valleys and stops, understanding imperfectly that security lies in the one who holds the map – understanding imperfectly but trying.

“When you know, wake me,” Henrietta had told her, tucking herself into a nap.

Exasperated, Emunah walked on. The closer noon’s approach, the busier the road became. People on foot, singly and in groups, dressed in celebration clothes, passed merrily on, singing silly songs and laughing riotously. Some drove by in caravans of cherry red or apple green with high-flying horses whose tails were braided with winsome ribbons. Some drove rickety wagons pulled by sad cattle, all bones and withering muscles, matching the countenance of their drivers who looked ahead with empty eyes, gaunt cheeks, bones jangling.

Emunah followed the road, keeping to herself. Most never called a greeting, almost as though they didn’t see her there. For a moment she felt unseen, in an unbelonging-kind-of-way. She remembered traveling with her mother, her father, and her sisters – and the joy, the laughter, the songs on the journey teaching their songs to other towns and houses. . . just as suddenly, she felt a wave of isolation slam against her heart. . . wash over her with the idea that she was a girl, no—a woman alone. She gasped with the force of that wave of isolation, the aloneness, the unseenness.

. . . Henrietta stirred in the confines of Emunah’s hood, her braid gently pulling – and Emunah came to herself before she lost herself in the trap of dangerous rabbit holes. She pulled her hand into her mantle, running her fingers across the songs that lined it. Under her breath, she started singing,

“He sees me, Jesus He sees me
whether I hide or whether I run
He sees me, Jesus He sees me

Every Step and every way
every why of every cry
He sees me, Jesus, He sees me

Where I sit and when I rise
every win and every fail
He sees me, Jesus, He sees me.

On empty roads and solitary days
the moments grace lost and moments grace found
He sees me, Jesus, He sees me.

Shaping the heart,
Guiding the work
He sees me, Jesus, He sees me.
and I am His.
I am saved.

. . . Emunah rounded a corner at that moment, whispered quietly to Henrietta, “It’s time.”

Henrietta stirred, slid out of her braided hammock, scurried to stand at the back of Emunah’s neck, patting it in gentle assurance, both aware they were about to step into the hard part of the story.

Emunah followed the caravans, the revelers, all bottle-necked at small off-the road path into the woods. As she turned left, Emunah spotted the young man in the red jacket and jaunty black hat that had seen better days watching the crowd turn off the road into The Forest Where No Man Comes Out unbroken.  Every so often he would call to someone in the crowd, “50-1 the Fox catches the Prey today.”

As Emunah turned off the road, she noticed the people she followed jump over the forest threshold – and she remember the warning from the other evening’s campfire about the cursed patches of grass building a hunger that leads to starvation, a trap so that those who belong to King of All Kingdom come down with a hunger that craves that which can neither fill nor satisfy, enslaving them to the wicked who seek to destroy The King of All Kingdoms and His people.

“Hold on, Henrietta,” she whispered and hopped over the not-so-welcome mat on the forest threshold.

Emunah followed the festival goers through the forest and into an elaborate encampment. A mini-town was sprung up with booths selling hats, ribbons, beautiful shoes, even mantles. Pigs roasted over spits, even quails, pheasants, geese, even a peacock. The smell of fresh baguettes, brioches, Schiacciatina flatbreads – some filled with cinnamons, cranberries, cloves, anise seeds and cheeses whole, sliced, shredded. Her stomach spinned, overwhelmed, bedazzled by feasts surrounding her.

Slowly, she turned in a circle, taking it all in, until jostled by the stream of people. She quickly stepped back into the flow of travelers, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Suddenly, she felt a tug on her braid. Understanding, she followed Henrietta’s tugging directions until she stood before a booth selling picnic baskets of food. They were the most delightful creations she had ever seen. She stood marveling at them. She also wondered why they needed a picnic basket since she wasn’t to eat anything but her bag of nuts until they left the forest.

Emunah waited until the ancient grandma in her blue and red apron turned to her.

So mesmerized by the choices in front of her, Emunah almost forgot to tell her what Henrietta had whispered.

“A butter-and-thyme bread basket with your best cheeses and fruits,” she asked. The woman gave Emunah a second glance, by-passing her eyes and looking at her shoulder.

“Oh, we don’t have that, mum,” she said. Pulling a basket from behind the counter, she added, “I should think this will do the trick goodly enough.”

Emunah pulled the coins for the purchase out of her mantle pocket, giving the woman a good tip for her kindness.

“Aye, thank ‘e, mum,” the old woman said, turning to speak to the next customer. “The games today look to be a real dog-ear rabble rouser. Loser’s bait for the fox hunt.”

“Oh, aye,” said the over-loud man behind her guffawing. “They’ve naught an idea of what they’re in for, do they. The surprise on their faces – oh, that is the most priceless part.”

Emunah carrying the basket, moved to take a peak. “No,” Henrietta whispered with urgency. “Not now. We’ve got to find Hannah. What does your watch say?”

“Nothing,” Emunah said, learning to trust. She mused that maybe a map-maker would have been easier than a clock-maker for going into unknown places and doing challenging things. However, she was starting to understand its guiding method. “So let’s keep following the crowd.”

As they walked closer and closer to the make-shift arena, Emunah felt her braid being tugged to the left. She began to suspect that Henrietta was following the promptings of an ally. She kept following Henrietta’s tuggings, trying to find stealth guide. She probably needed to be chipmunk-sized to discover him or her. Finally, Henrietta stopped her before a hammock surrounded by a fence made of wooden spears. A leg hung over the hammock, swinging to rock it back and forth.

Should she call out? Would she be found out? If it wasn’t Hannah, she wouldn’t just be endangering herself; she would be endangering Henrietta. Emunah looked at her watch – the hands of thyme were pointing to the hammock. Taking a deep, quiet breath, she called out, “Hannah?”

The head that rose out of the hammock shocked Emunah.

“Emunah,” greeted the voice from within a bedraggled, filthy, emaciated body. “Oh, Emunah – you’ve come to join me. It’s so wonderful here.” Hoisting herself ungracefully out of the hammock, holding a plate of grapes and moldy cheese in one hand, what might have once looked like joy in her face , now looked like horror. “Look at the dress they gave me,” she curtseyed, showing off a dress of rags. “Have you ever seen such material? The lace? The blues and pure whites – oh, I’ve never owned anything like this.”

Emunah stood stunned. She had come to free Hannah from imprisonment and destruction. She thought Hannah would grab hold of her, and they’d both run for dear life. Yet, Hannah stood before her concerned only for her own comforts, for what she saw as a pretty dress and pretty curls – blind to the devastation this horrible place was having on her body, mind and soul.

“And my hair – and my skin. I’ve never been so beautiful,” Setting her plate down on the ground, she pulled a looking glass from within the hammock. “Come, look at us together here.”

Hannah came to the fence, beckoning Emunah to come look. Emunah moved closer, looking into the mirror, beholding both their faces. Indeed, in the mirror, Hannah was wearing clothes fit for a princess, with roses in her cheeks, and her hair arranged in elegant beauty. Emunah sparkled, too. It quite took her breath away – and then she leaned to close, the spear of the fence scratching her skin. She quickly pulled away.

“Hannah, I’ve come to save you, to take you home,” Emunah said. “Come! Hurry – how do we get you out of here.”

“Hannah just laughed at her. “You’ve come to save me? From all this? This stately home, my beautiful clothes, all the food I could want? Besides, I’m a contestant today at the festival. I’m going to be Queen of the Festival. Why would I want to go back to where I came from? You silly girl! Stay! We will have the best time ever!”

Where had her sweet Hannah gone? Her dear friend who had shared the same dreams, the same hopes – and the same desire to teach others the songs of praise for The King of All Kingdoms? They’d spent hours making daisy chain crowns as girls, laughing at the same jokes in school, loving the same stories.

“This tournament isn’t what you think it is, Hannah. I don’t think it’s safe for you. Please come with me. The Son of the King of All Kingdom’s will help you get well, will help you find yourself,” Emunah argued, begged, cried. Hannah remained determined. She didn’t see what the forest and its people were doing to her. She thought they were her friends. She didn’t see with insight and her outer sight had been damaged by unnatural mist from the forest the day she was captured. She eaten their food, fallen under their evil magic that destroyed the body and souls of the children of The King of All the Kingdoms. She was deceived and could not see she the truth of it.

Emunah slipped her hand into her pouch Felecia Squirrel had given her at the journey’s beginning. She rummaged through, pulling out a tiny seed she hadn’t realized was there. It was the smallest seed of all. “Here Hannah, take this. May it give you success as you compete. I am here if you need me.” Maybe this seed would open her eyes to the truth. If they did open, she would be there to help.

She put it into Hannah’s hand, reached over the fence, risking angry scratches and pricks to hug her friend, hoping that she could feel the love from that hug go straight to her heart. Emunah knew she couldn’t force Hannah to go with her. She would just come back. She had to want to leave. . . Emunah didn’t know how she knew that but she knew.

As she let go, Emunah felt despair touch swirl, trying to find a way in to her heart. Hannah was already climbing back into her hammock, plate in hand, chewing on the world’s smallest seed. Emunah stood there, whispering a childhood song, building strength for courage for what would come next, though she had no idea except to put one foot in front of the other.

You make a road where there is no road
you do that just for me
through the wilderness, desert and sea
worry not, trust and see
you belong to me

Put into my pocket, he says
all your worries and fears
I’ll sort them, even your tears
worry not, trust and see
you belong to me

Be strong and courageous
send the frights and dismays
send them, he says, my way
worry not, trust and see
you belong to me

As Emunah turned to leave, she saw the young man in a red jacket and jaunty black hat that had seen better days lounging against a tree, eating bread and cheese, looking at her, with empty, insolent eyes, black and dull. In the shadows, she saw Anahera talking in the shadows with another man. She picked up her picnic basket and walked to the arena, relieved she wasn’t in charge of the saving plan. She just needed to walk through it and trust The King of All Kingdoms and His son. She started humming her song again, focusing on Him and not the fear that trailed and swirled around her feet in a tangible fog.

Elijah’s Mantle Series:
Part 1: God’s Mantle Bearer
Part 2: Soul Speak
Part 3: A Word Sandwich
Part 4: No Longer a Man Alone
Part 5: A Mentor’s Apprentice
Part 6: An Apprentice’s Mentors
Part 7: The Apprentice’s Choices
Part 8: The Apprentice’s Focus
Part 9: The Apprentice’s Heart
Part 10: The Apprentice’s Strength for Courage
Part 11: Man-Made Mantles of Strength for Courage
Part 12: The Mantle of Christmas Keeping
Part 13: Daring to Walk Close
Part 14: A Mentor-Apprentice Rapport
Part 15: Learning to Wear The Mentor’s Mantle
Part 16: Lining, Hemming, Steeping
Part 17: Recipe for Mantle Making
Part 18: Bespoke Mantles
Part 19: Who’s Going to Pick Up My Mantle (Coming after the completion of Lined with Praise)
Part 20: Conclusion to Elijah’s Mantle Series

Lined with Praise: A Story Within the Elijah Mantle Series
Part 1: Lined with Praise
Part 2: Lined with Praise
Part 3: Lined with Praise
Part 4: Lined with Praise
Part 5 Lined with Praise
Part 6: Lined with Praise
Part 7: Lined with Praise
Part 8: Lined with Praise
Part 9: Lined with Praise
Part 10: Lined with Praise
Part 11: Lined with Praise

Remember Me Monday: #141 Link-up

“I’ll make a list of God’s gracious dealings,
    all the things God has done that need praising,
All the generous bounties of God,
    his great goodness to the family of Israel—
Compassion lavished,
.    love extravagant.”
~ Isaiah 63:7, The Message

In the Old Testament, God repeatedly, quietly and loudly, tells his children, “You have forgotten me!”  (Jeremiah 3:32, Ezekiel 22:12, to name a few). It’s a heart cry from a father to a child who has forgotten all the love, all the saving, helping, little and big blessings – and it leaves me stunned when I realize our Father, the creator of the universe, who knows things I cannot begin to fathom, who authors storylines that leave me amazed, delights in all of us so much, He cries out, “Remember Me.”

While every day is a Remember God Day, I am inviting you to join me on Monday mornings to come by and remember what God has done for you, for your family. Maybe God sent a cardinal darting out in front of you, as if to tell you, “I’m here,” or broke a child’s fever after you laid it all down at His feet in a 2 a.m. bedside vigil. Maybe He stood with you in the wait of a prayer sent out, or brought someone you loved to Christ. Maybe He healed your broken heart, gave your courage, or you gave Him your dreams as a love offering only to have Him give them back in an unimaginable way. Maybe God helped you survive to bedtime after a crazy Monday, or forgive yourself for missing it with your kiddos –– Whatever it is, let’s Remember Him. . . in a “Remember Me Monday” love letter.

“My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
Of your salvation all the day long,
Though I know not its measure.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign Lord”
~ Psalm 71:15-16.

Let us delight in Him by telling the  stories of what He’s done!  If you wrote a blog post remembering what He’s done for you, join the linky. If you didn’t but still want to praise Him for what He’s done – write it in the comment section. Then visit a comment before or after yours! One of the beautiful things about the blogging community is the relationships it builds!

Rules?  Write long or short, a list or a story, include photos or not. Just Remember Him and what He has done, and let the gratitude of your heart guide you. Let’s make Monday so Rejoice, that the goodness of God spills into the rest of the week! (Link opens Mondays at 6 a.m.)

Places I’m Linking at This Week:
  Instaencouragements, Legacy Link-Up, 
Let’s Have Coffee Wednesday 
Recharge Wednesday, Scripture & a Snapshot
Grace&Truth, Sweet Tea & Friends