I hope it is OK to post this. If not, my apologies and moderators please remove.
I know of an English teacher who encouraged his students to write during the summer. Friends and family were also invited to participate. Each week he sent a "prompt" they were to work from. He then "corrected" and encouraged the authors. The prompt for the following was "3 people enter a room". This is one of the responses.
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Mrs. Stokes’s Prayer Closet
Daisy Stokes is a wonderful supporting character created from the mind of Robert Whitlow for his first novel “The List.” In Mrs. Stokes’s home is a blue guest room with a closet…
“The closet was not the small cubbyhole typical in older homes built before massive walk-in closets became common. It was more like a long, narrow room extending at least ten feet to the back wall. There was even a tiny window two-thirds of the way up the wall toward the ceiling. A beveled-glass Star of David the size of a man’s hand was suspended on a string in front of the window. The room was totally empty except for a clothes bar, a narrow chair facing the window, and a deep blue cushion on the floor in front of the chair. There wasn’t a speck of dust or hint of a musty smell in the little enclosure.” … “--It’s Mrs. Stokes’s prayer closet.”
As a retired Presbyterian missionary who had served for almost forty years with her late husband as a teacher on a mission compound in Taiwan ; Mrs. Stokes still occasionally entertained an eclectic variety of houseguests in her home in Charlotte , South Carolina .
The following brief narratives are the initial descriptive observations and reactions of three very different guests upon entering Mrs. Stokes prayer closet for the first time:
· Peggy Lynne ~ an old embittered woman, angry at life and full of regret;
· John Paul ~ a young idealistic boy; and
· Marie Christine ~ a mother of a newborn baby, Catherine Grace
Peggy Lynne
Angrily, Peggy Lynne forcefully flung open the closet door with a brute strength that belied her ninety-some years. Roughly shoving aside the old-fashioned padded hangers with a discontented grunt, Peggy Lynne hoisted her precisely hangered garments onto the clothes bar, and crossly muttered to herself... “Not even a proper closet and these smelly froufrou hangers…”
Stepping back, Peggy glanced further into the narrow room. Harrumph, she sniffed disdainfully; thinking that it was just like Daisy Stokes to leave a perfectly good pillow on the floor. Stomping over, Peggy Lynne bent down, snatched up the pillow and unceremoniously thumped it down on the seat of the hard, uncomfortable looking chair.
She snorted and muttered to herself again, “as if anyone in their right mind would want to sit in this cramped room. There are not even curtains on that tiny, insignificant window to at least make the attempt to cheer up this dreary waste of space. Pfffft and look at that cheap ornament in the window; just another worthless dust collector.”
Something about the star in the window reminded Peggy Lynne of Christmas’s in the distant past, and that sent her mind spiraling back to “the reason for the season.”
Yeah, she used to go to church on Sundays and prayed several times a week whether she needed to or not. And where did it get her… nowhere. If there really was a “God”: he would not have let the divorce happen all those years ago. Peggy Lynne had prayed harder than she ever had for “God” to intercede, and her prayers obviously fell on deaf ears; he would not have let her ex-husband kill himself just when she was sure she had convinced him to give her another chance; he would not have left her penniless as she was no longer in her ex husband’s will; he would have saved her home and all of her belongings from the wildfire’s destruction, several of her former neighbors’ homes had been completely spared, while hers went up in flames; he would not have left her so utterly alone …
Peggy Lynne was fond of grousing that she should never have had children, those unappreciative ingrates; they never called, they did not write, and Peggy Lynne had not seen them in years. For all they knew she was dead… not that they would care... ungrateful wretches, the lot of them… who needs them…
Peggy Lynne was completely alone; no friends; no family. What was to point in living to a “ripe old age” if there was not anything to do or anyone to share it with. She was just a poor little old lady, a decrepit thing really. Useless…
Unhappily, Peggy Lynne looked in the mirror with clear, sharp eyesight and shook her well-coiffed, full head of platinum white hair. She then reached out with her limber, pain-free fingers and effortlessly twisted the handle of the bedroom door.
As she firmly strode out of the room and down the stairs on her sturdy, steady legs; Peggy Lynne’s nose wrinkled slightly as her keen sense of smell detected the distinctive aroma of the Good Earth spiced tea Daisy Stokes was so fond of serving.
Peggy Lynne’s irritability flared even further when her unaided sensitive ears picked up the unmistakable sounds of John G. Elliott, that Christian piano player Daisy always seemed to have playing in the background; at least it did not seem to be the scripture narrative one; that would just be too much today…just not in the mood… there was not one thing she could or should be thankful for at this point in her life.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Daisy Stokes was faithfully praying intercessory petitions for Peggy Lynne.
"…the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much," James 5:16
“…men always ought to pray and not lose heart,” Luke 18:1
“Moreover, I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” Ezekiel 36:26
John Paul
Bounding into the guest bedroom, John Paul casually tossed his backpack on the end of the bed and swiftly opened the closet door so he could hang up his brown leather jacket. He was eager to return downstairs to engage Mrs. Stokes in stories about her missionary services overseas as he felt led to serve in the mission field as well.
The padded hangers reminded him of his grandmother’s house; and the faint, flowery scent that gently wafted up when he wrapped his beloved jacket over the arms of the hanger further evoked her memory.
Impatient to return downstairs and yet still filled with the seemingly insatiable curiosity that youth are innately blessed with; John Paul glanced inquisitively around the rest of the simple room.
His intelligent eyes took in the well worn, old-fashioned, high ladder back chair with a rich, dark blue pillow strategically placed on the floor in front of it. The only other object in the room was clear glass Star of David suspended in front of the sunny window which cheerfully reflected tiny prisms of color around the room. John Paul correctly surmised that this was Mrs. Stokes’s personal prayer closet.
Glancing at the bare walls, John Paul instantly envisioned a quiet study with simple wooden bookshelves; a single wood shelf really, wrapping around the three walls that made up the back of the room.
Shelves filled with Christ-honoring, soul-building authors: Henry Blackaby, Warren Wiersbe, Oswald Chambers, Billy Graham, Andrew Murray, Richard Wurmbrand, K.P. Yohannan, Brother Yun, and… his racing thoughts slid to a halt as he realized that adding to the room would take away the essence of the quiet sanctuary.
John Paul realized there was only one thing missing from the room, and immediately went to fetch it from his backpack on the end of the bed; his well read Bible.
Returning to the small room, John Paul paused to read Jeremiah 29:13 “You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.” before falling to his knees on the deep blue pillow in front of the chair.
Resting his elbows on the seat of the sturdy, wooden chair, John Paul quickly realized he was quite a bit longer than Mrs. Stokes and hastily slid his lanky body around to the side of the chair, where he was then able to rest his elbows on the seat and his forearms and wrists could freely extend over the far side of the narrow seat.
Just kneeling quietly in the still room, John Paul’s mind was freed from all earthly distractions and he was finally able to see clearly what was truly important. He bowed his head, rested it upon his forearms and began to pray.
He first spent some time giving praises and songs of thanksgiving to his Maker; then confessing his sins and sincerely repenting, before heading into the petitions and pleadings for those whom the Holy Spirit brought to mind and caused to weigh heavily upon his young heart.
It would be several hours before John Paul would stiffly emerge from the closet with a peaceful, radiant look emanating from his face.
Gently closing the door behind him, he saw a plate of cookies and glass of sweet tea on the table by the bed. Realizing that Mrs. Stokes had come looking for him at some point, John Paul headed off to thank her for the gift of uninterrupted time in her prayer closet.
Marie Christine and her daughter, Catherine Grace
Gently cradling Catherine Grace, her two-week-old daughter, in the crook of her arm, Marie Christine opened the closet door and with her free hand, hung her threadbare jacket on one of the pretty, lavender scented, satin ribbon-wrapped hangers Mrs. Stokes had thoughtfully provided.
Marie Christine briefly leaned back against the wall of the closet to gather enough strength to return to the bedroom and continue unpacking what meager belongings she had managed to grab before being evacuated from her burning apartment. She noticed that the semi-darkened room extended a bit further back and that there was a chair. The beckoning chair seemed to welcome her as she walked the few steps to reach it.
Thoroughly exhausted, Marie Christine, gratefully sank into the plain wooden chair at the other end of the simple room, began feeding her hungry infant and tried not to doze off.
The uncluttered and immaculately clean room soon relaxed and soothed her tired soul. Here, aside from nourishing her sleepy child, she was free of the seemingly endless pressing matters she was now required to attend to as a “temporarily-single” and now homeless, new parent.
Marie Christine’s gaze rose up to the spotless window above her head and came to rest on an elegantly handcrafted, beveled glass, Star of David suspended by a nearly invisible thread of fishing line; the Star appeared to be floating in midair. She could only imagine how beautiful the Star would look when the sun would fully reflect off of it; something that was impossible right now with the near blizzard conditions raging outside the window.
After Catherine Grace finished nursing, Marie Christine gently nestled her on the middle of the plush, midnight blue cushion on the floor in front of the chair.
Moving the chair back to the wall, Marie Christine kneeled down a couple of feet from the cushion and placed her forehead on the floor with her arms extended in front of her. She began quietly and earnestly giving praise to her Father for the goodness and mercy He had shown earlier that evening when a faulty wire on an electric heater had caused her run-down apartment complex to rapidly burn to the ground. There had been no loss of life, neither human nor pets.
She then prayed for her young husband who was on his first deployment as an enlisted soldier in the US Army. He was struggling greatly with the pressures of military deployment, increased family obligations, and a substantial amount of persecution over his strong Christian beliefs.
Marie Christine appealed the Lord for wisdom and guidance in parenting His gift of her daughter. She petitioned Him to keep her daughter safe in the upcoming uncertain times as Marie Christine rebuilt their physical world, again asking for wisdom and guidance.
Marie Christine then fervently implored the Lord to allow her daughter the opportunity to grow up with the loving guidance of both of her parents. To bring Catherine Grace’s father home safe and sound; so he could meet his firstborn child; that the Lord would be merciful in the mental trauma that her husband would undoubtedly carry home as a medic attached with a Special Forces unit, so that they could together, actively raise their precious gift from God.
When Marie Christine finally opened her eyes and lifted her weary head, she beheld an exquisite sight that instantly brought a radiant peace to her anxious heart; the angry winter storm clouds had parted outside the window, and a brilliant shaft of light shone straight through the delicate Star of David which then cast the most incredible display of beautiful rainbows on and around her sleeping child.
Thank you, Lord, Marie Christine quietly breathed at the tangible sight of His love and His promise.
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly. Matthew 6:6
“God’s children and His enemies make the same mistake; they both underestimate the power of prayer.” ~ Daisy Stokes, "The List" movie