Crist Miss Blues: Expurgated (Sarah's Saga)
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Sarah continues to reveal all the crush and crashing about of events in her life from the age of thirty one to thirty three. And the person that she tells this to is me, your humble author. To be honest, I am no more than a simple scribe to the fascinating narrative that Sarah weaves and spins around me.
The once potent Aaron’s rod rears its vivid double head again as it asserts itself into the machinations of a hugely secretive yet hugely successful cult that seeks power supreme. There is almost no boundary that they will not cross in order to possess that which Sarah and her clan already possess. Yet her clan is unaware of that very fact.
Priestly spies surround her clan and are obsessed with finding their scepter which they believe will open the door to the kingdom of which they will then become lord and master over. This comely weapon is truly a simple wood stave, granted to Aaron, Moses’ brother, so that the form and shape of beneficent glory might be deeply planted into human soil; terrain of the human spirit whereby God might then watch his flock thrive. In the wrong hands, though, this wood hewn staff shows a terrible wrath and an explosive dominance of the world about it.
Humbler happenings unravel through these two short years as well. The wealthy suburbs of Washington D.C., Savannah, Georgia, and Seattle, Washington all throb with the more mundane of adultery, alcoholism, pregnancy’s calling and its demise as well, the complexities of the expansion of social networking online and the incumbent rights to privacy within.
There is advocacy and decency in addition. Children grow in the shelter of loving parents. A United States Senator who gives up his position midterm in order to fight what he considers to be a just and precedent setting fight. There are Supreme Court Justices who, though they are vastly hidebound by an uptight set of rigid rules that they themselves created, manage to accomplish that which is fair and reasoned.
Sarah swirls through this panoply of activity and she takes me with her while I clutch her coattails as they whip in the wind and the fury of her story.
And I am very fortunate to be the guest at her table. It is a table rich with delight, diversity, and the spellbinding interplay of human frailty, yet with a resourceful rise to richly conquer that fragility with gusto and a held chalice of hope that invigorates the mind.
So, don’t let her tale hold only my mind captive. Join me and let the facts of her life resonate within each and every one of you readers fearless enough, curious enough, and graceful enough to ride her words to a pristine and beautiful horizon.