An Awakening Read online

  THE JOURNEY

  An

  Awakening

  Laura Sweat

  Copyright © 2016 Laura Sweat.

  Author Photo by Blake Boutwell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  All scripture is taken from the King James Version, Crusade Bible Publishers, Inc., 1973.

  WestBow Press

  A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403

  www.westbowpress.com

  1 (866) 928-1240

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  ISBN: 978-1-5127-4182-7 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-5127-4183-4 (e)

  WestBow Press rev. date: 06/08/2016

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  DEDICATION

  For Bo, Kaitlyn, and Fletcher, my three favorites

  “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

  ~ Hebrews 13:2

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many that I want to thank for helping make this book possible, so I’ll just name a few here.

  Thank you, Lord, for your love and your grace towards me. I can’t do anything without you. You are my everything.

  Thank you, April, for encouraging me to write, and for preparing me for the times that I might feel like giving up. You saw the potential for this before anyone else did.

  Bo, you are and always will be my one and only. You support me in all of my crazy ideas. You are my best friend. I love you.

  Thank you, Pa for all you’ve done for me. I love you.

  Ann Griner thank you for your extra set of eyes and for your enthusiasm. I needed that!

  Donny Pitts thank you for being in the right place at the right time with the right words. You have helped me along more than you know.

  Thank you to the wonderful staff at WestBow Press. You are all awesome. I couldn’t have done this without you.

  To my friends and family members who have supported me, in so many ways; I can’t thank you enough.

  CHAPTER 1

  As the rain drops fall collectively and land on the metal roof, I lie completely still and quiet. So still that I am barely breathing; so quiet, even my thoughts are whispers. I can almost hear each drop landing individually. They ping and pat, pitter and patter. They fall; heavily then, they slow down with no obvious pattern, rhyme or reason. Random.

  I have often wondered if anything at all is random in this life. What if that were true? What if there were no such things as coincidences or meetings by chance? What if there was a divine purpose for all things, no matter how trivial some of them may seem?

  The rain finally stops and all is silent except for my thoughts. These are constantly rolling and shifting from one subject to another. They never stop. At any given time during any given day, there is a thought crossing my mind. It is never void nor blank. There is always something there. I wonder if this is normal or if I’m just a busybody. One thing’s for sure, if exercise is good for the mind, mine is in great shape.

  Just as the rain has ceased, now I must dim my thoughts, as much as I can, and force myself to sleep. I have quite the day ahead tomorrow and I must be ready. Maybe, just maybe, this is the break I have been waiting for. No, this IS it. I’m certain this time. This is the right move. I’ve waited years for it. This is it: my new beginning.

  “Here you go again, Jeriley,” I say to myself, aware that I’m getting wound up again. “Breathe slowly. Think about your breathing. Empty your mind. Maybe you should read; that always helps.” I coach myself through the process of winding down.

  Another novel by a great writer. It is an interesting story, definitely not boring with the plot twisting as it does. I am almost halfway through this one. Reading is such a great escape. I look at it as a free vacation. I get to travel anywhere at all and stay as long as the story lasts. When I finish one getaway, I travel on to the next time and place. It can be such a release to slip into someone else’s life, even if it is for a short time.

  I drift. Finally, sleep overtakes me and I will sleep a dreamless sleep tonight. I am tired. My mind, my heart, my inner being has been at war for years. Seemingly, I have encountered one struggle after another. Oh sure, I have brief periods of “peace” that I enjoy, but there have always been nagging questions that I don’t have clear answers to. They often get shoved aside by my current job quest or object of infatuation, but tonight my mind will rest.

  Light. It finds its way in despite the expensive measures taken by hanging light filtering blinds and black out curtains. Oh, it helped, certainly. It’s not nearly as bright as it used to be. Nevertheless, the sunlight creeps in just before the alarm sounds ensuring that this blissful rest must come to an end quickly. The thoughts of the day begin to bombard my mind and, as they do, the alarm buzzes. Such an annoying shrill, over and over again.

  In one fluid motion, I am out of bed, crossing the room to turn off the noisy alarm as I head for the shower. I am not going to miss this place at all. I take that back. There may be small conveniences that I miss like, knowing where everything in town is or having connections to getting things done. These things will have to be reacquired because today I am moving to the coast. My lifelong dream of living on the water comes true today. In just a few hours I will be smelling the salty air regularly, instead of occasionally. Somehow, I managed to land a job that will offer me a one-way ticket out of this dreadful town.

  “You can’t run from life,” they say.

  “It’ll always find you,” they tell me.

  “Better to face it head on.”

  It all seems like sound advice. Commendable, yet impossible to follow, for me at least. I have no options left that will leave me feeling sane anyway. So, I’m leaving. Hoping, and praying for a reprieve. This has to be it.

  Showered and dressed, I take down the curtains from my bedroom windows and fold th
em neatly. I certainly paid too much for them to be left behind, and I’m already leaving the blinds in all the windows. Maybe I can be of help to the next person who lives here. It may be some poor, desperate soul who follows. Perhaps that person will be searching for a hide away as well. What a nice surprise to find a quaint little spot with blinds already in every window as an added bonus to the view of the river.

  This really is a great little place. The house is a cottage style two-bedroom with a small front porch facing a picturesque street, where a handful of houses make up a lovely, hidden neighborhood. The back porch faces the river and has made the picture of tranquility complete with a cushioned swing. I planted a few flowers to add a personal touch to the yard, hoping it would feel more like a home. It helped. I have liked it here, except for the fact that it isn’t far enough away from all of the mistakes I’ve made. Mistakes that won’t leave me alone; won’t let me move on; won’t let me start over.

  I put the last of my belongings into the small moving van I rented. I make one last sweep through the house and close the door. It is only 8:30 and seeing as how the weather is cooperating with nothing but sunshine in the forecast, I find myself with time for breakfast. After a quick trip through a drive thru I am on my way with my Jeep Liberty in tow, so I can be sure I don’t have to return.

  U.S. Highway 319 South will take me most of the way. It isn’t a long drive. I always considered that one benefit of living in this area. It is just a few hours to the Gulf of Mexico and miles upon miles of beaches. Further down, it will become Highway 98. Of all the roads I have traveled, this is my favorite. It follows the coastline for miles and miles. The waters of The Gulf of Mexico greet me as they come into view through the pines. I often wonder, as I look out over the expanse of water to the horizon, where I would end up if I kept straight as the crow flies. What piece of land would I eventually come to? Would I find Cuba or would I miss it altogether and find Central America? What treasures or secrets are buried in that water? There goes that busy mind of mine again. Never quiet. Always thinking about something.

  As I enter one of the small familiar towns that I’ve visited or passed through many times before, I check the time and turn the radio down a bit. I have surfed the stations for most of the drive and found everything from 80’s hits to elevator music. There are a few Christian stations, but not many. I have listened to these stations a few times during the past few months. I still enjoy the occasional country song or even one of the latest pop hits, but I seem to be drawn to Christian stations more than I used to be.

  Something about the songs pulls at me. Often, I have found a song waiting for me that seemed to speak volumes just when I needed encouragement. I hear a catchy tune as I surf the stations that grabs my attention and I leave it there. The next song is just as catchy. Before I know it, an hour has passed by and I am caught up in the words and meanings filling the car. Some hold messages that I don’t fully understand. These cause me to think about things I haven’t pondered in a long, long time. Sometimes I entertain these thoughts briefly, but most times they get pushed away to the back of my mind where they remain untouched.

  The radio personalities are always pleasant and positive. Are they for real? They never have a bad day? Even if they say they are having a bad day, they sure don’t sound like it. What is really behind all of these songs? Oh yeah, God. Jesus dying to save my soul. Churchy stuff. There’s a place I haven’t visited in a while. There hasn’t exactly been time for it between orchestrating the plan of escape and the hunt for a new home. Both of which have included, but not been limited to, the job search and acquisition.

  What a wonderful answer that would be. A loving God who could handle all things big and small, and willing to take each and every burden, if I’ll only believe. Sounds like a whimsical fairy tale full of mystery and wonder.

  “Listen.”

  “Whoa!” My thoughts are snatched from the radio and the winding trail of wonder that I had begun to meander down.

  I haven’t heard that in a long time. Maybe “heard” isn’t the right word for it. Only crazy people hear voices. Right? It was more like a thought, but whose? It wasn’t mine. No, I heard it alright, just not with my ears. A still, small voice. Coming through simultaneously with the radio but drowning it out. How is that possible? It was in my head. I didn’t hear it with my ears.

  I have had this experience before. This time a little “louder” than the previous one. The first time I was sitting on my back porch in the swing. I had just moved into my little cottage and was taking a moment to relax after finally getting everything unpacked. It was a perfect time to really examine the view. Sure, at a glimpse it was really nice, a great selling point for the house, but once I took a moment to sit and really take in the surroundings, I realized how beautiful it really was. The lush tree line to the left of the house bordered the dark, thick woods that covered several acres of nothing but nature. The river angled gradually towards the yard and redirected gently beyond the neighbor’s fence line where they claimed it as it passed by.

  “Look.”

  It was as if someone was sitting beside me and spoke one word in my ear, only it wasn’t in my ear. It was in my head, but I heard it. Didn’t I? This took me by surprise. I couldn’t figure out where it came from, but I decided to comply. So, I looked. All around me was the most beautiful scene I had ever laid eyes on. The river was flowing peacefully by as if it hadn’t a care in the world. Flowing not because it had to, but because it simply desired to meander. Birds were resting along the fence line and the colors, for a moment, seemed to pop. The white, fluffy clouds seemed to burst like cotton exploding in tufts out of the bluest of skies. A quiet breeze brushed the tree tops to my left and then just as quickly, it was as if I snapped out of a trance of some sort. The scene was still beautiful, but for a moment, it had come alive to me somehow and now it had returned to normal.

  Who was that? What were they trying to show me? Today was no different. I had the same questions.

  This is great. Just as I am on the verge of a fresh start, I go nuts. Reality slips away on the drive south. Well, whatever or whoever it is, it will have to take its place in the back of my mind. Nature calls and it just so happens to be almost lunchtime. I’ve made pretty decent time with no real need to stop until now.

  With the call of nature answered and a burger in my hand, I take off for the last stretch between here and my new beginning. The drive has been pleasant. This drive always is. It’s one of my favorite escape routes. Besides the books I read, this is my ultimate retreat. I can be myself here. I don’t have to slip into someone else’s life. I can be in mine and no one knows anything about me or it can be different. No one knows me here so it’s up to me. No one has any chance of uncovering my secrets. I don’t have to pretend that all is right with the world or put on a face to hide what is really going on. Funny thing is, when I’m here, I am happy. Contentment comes without much effort. I love this place. I belong here.

  It was a good idea to make this final run with the last of my belongings on a Saturday morning. With a day and a half to unpack the last of my meager things and get them organized, I should be ready for bed at a decent hour Sunday night. I’ll be well rested and ready for my debut Monday morning. This new job could prove to be challenging, but I’m up for it. No worries.

  Reaching my destination, I realize that this is the perfect spot. There is a narrow, seemingly forgotten path leading up to the house. Near the end of the path, it bends just enough to obscure the view from the road. The house is tucked away behind a cluster of dunes, hidden completely. It is angled sharply towards the water with a boardwalk leading directly to the beach. The view is magnificent. The dunes accompanied by sea oats and a few surrounding trees give way to the almost constant sea breeze.

  As I pull up under the carport and put the van in park, I realize what a relief it is to finally be here. With that flooding of relief, I turn the key, killin
g the engine and I listen. It takes about three seconds for my ears to adjust to the new quiet. The engine and radio have stopped. I fold my hands in my lap and lean my head against the steering wheel. I close my eyes and listen. Waves. I hear waves. They sound even more welcoming than all the other times that they have greeted me before. I sit this way for a few more minutes, waiting and listening. I don’t hear anything other than the occasional calling of a seagull. What are you really listening for, Jeriley? My mind goes back briefly, to the “voice” I heard on the way down here. I know deep down, that’s what I’m listening for, but it’s gone.

  With a deep breath, I get out of the van and go inside the house. Thankfully, everything was spotless when I arrived. Whoever cleaned the place obviously took extreme care. I couldn’t have done a better job myself.

  Some of my belongings are already here from the quick trip down last weekend. With those items already in their place, I have the small task at hand of finishing up. If I stay focused, I might wrap this up early and have some time to explore.

  Unloading this haul isn’t as hard as the first because there is not as much this time. Within an hour, it’s all unloaded and I begin to put everything in its new place. My neatly folded curtains find a new home in the living room, and the dishes get situated in their new homes. Once the last box is emptied, I realize that I have more time left than I had anticipated. Maybe I should check the van again, just to be sure I brought everything in. I’m always second guessing myself this way.

  There is nothing left in the van. I must have had less than I thought I did or maybe I worked faster than I thought I had. It is entirely possible that I misjudged my first trip and brought more down last weekend than I remembered. Whatever the case, I’m done and it is still the middle of the day. I grab the keys and my purse and make the trip to return the van. I had planned to save this task for tomorrow morning, but I am ready to have the entire moving experience over and this is the final step. Spur of the moment decisions often seem to rule my life. This is a bad habit, I know. I get a fleeting thought or idea and just go with it. This is a good one, though. It has to be done anyway. I’ll just get it over with.