The Day Jesus Came Knocking, Short Story

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I saw this picture online and thought of how many times Jesus is knocking and so many of us just don’t notice or care.  This story is not what you expect from me.

Let Me In

I was sitting one day in my darkness.
The kind of darkness that was not outside my window.
It was deeper. It filled me up with self loathing and despair.
I was blemished.

I was an evil doer. One of those lost causes you’ve heard of. No saving was in my future. I had decided it so. People say I should love myself. How dare I even consider love. At what cost. To give of myself. I wouldn’t. My terms of endearment were only met by judgement and expectation.

I would not trust or love. I would not give one grain of honor or loyalty to another. Darkness was the carcass left behind from a life already tarnished. All emotion null and void of reparation. The tear canal empty. Dried up and barren.
And I wasn’t even eighteen.

My days were continously loathe some. Off to school. Home from school. Off to sleep. Awake again. An agonizing circle of lifFor some reason this day felt different. Through my discourtesy, ignorance and blasting iPod, I heard a strange tapping. Like an annoying clock. Tick tick, tick tock.  But slighter still. Just enough to un-nerve me and annoy me. Being the un-gracious beast of a person I was, I ignored it.

Now it became a steady knocking. Knocking, knocking, knocking. I was not going to answer, but I was compelled to peek out the window.

“You have to be kidding me!” I said aloud.
I was seething with aggravation and discontent.
How could He even try something like this, I thought.
It was Jesus. Jesus Christ was standing on my porch.
How embarrassing. What could He possibly need from me,
I thought, but proceeded to approach the door.  I had to answer it.

I almost didn’t, but it was Jesus.

At least he knocked and didn’t just appear and give me a heart attack. But, if He really was there to grant me a wish, that would’ve been it. Kill me dead, Jesus.  I’m done.  That would have been a gift worth receiving.

My mother was always talking about Him. Telling me how I could be saved if only I let Him in. Once I said,

“Oh, really mom. Is He gonna save me like He saved you. You’re always miserable and blaming me for you’re problems. You know I didn’t hide that gallon of Gallo in the closet! Maybe you should invite Him over and have a drink together!”

Anyway, Jesus didn’t mean much to me. He was just a folk tale. A story to scare me into doing the “right thing.”

Anyway, He was at my door which I guess was Facebook worthy.
So I’d have to remember to record the moment.

“I’m coming.” I said as the knocking continued.
I opened the door. He knew I knew who He was.
Everyone knows who He is. I had to admit, He was impressive.
Very appealing and mellow.

“Hello Jesus.”  I said mustering up a smile.

“So you know who I am.” He said.

“Of course, everyone knows who You are.”
I say with a tone.

“May I come in?” He asked.

“I don’t think so.” I say, apparently surprising Him.

“Why can I not come in?” He asked.

“Well I’m afraid if I let You in, You might just keep coming back.”
I said.

“What would be wrong with that? I only want to help you?
Why not give me a chance?” He said.

“Listen, I appreciate You picking me out of everyone else in the planet to personally visit today, but I’m not interested. It’s too late for You to show up now. I’m already done.”
He looked sad.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Him. But not sorry enough to let Him in.

“So, maybe You could go help someone else who cares.”
I said hoping He would get the point.

“There’s always hope and always second chances. If You let me in, I can show You the way. But, you have to let me in.”
Jesus spoke softly and sweetly, but I was too angry to want what He had to give.

“It’s okay Jesus. I’m on my own. Either way, I’m not letting You in.”
I said to Him.

He got my point, and left.

I sat back down and thought to myself,
“Was that a mistake?”

On to more important things. I pulled my cell phone out of my sleeve and was ready to show the world how I dis’d Jesus Christ.
That should get me a lot of “likes”

But all I got was a lousy broken up recording.

The only words I could make out were,

“Let me in.”

“Well that figures!” I said out loud and turn on the TV.

“Let Me in.  What a joke.”

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About goplayintraffic

My Blog, which began as a mommy blog and turned into a writing website, www.write2survive.com, is the product of my years of being home with my children and trying to find ways to keep myself sane. I have always had this feeling, coming from a single mother, that I have to contribute financially and that I have to be able to take care of myself and my children. having been married, being a NYC school teacher, having four children, living in Newtown, CT and trying to find a way to get through each day with a smile has always been something I've strived for. My stories, articles and poems will do a lot of things but mostly make you feel. I think that is what is so wonderful about having the ability to write. I have been given the gift of taking my emotions and transferring them to written word. Once that is done, I can share those words with others who may feel better, maybe just for a moment, but better nonetheless having read my words. I am glad you are here and hope you will stay:)
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