Because they are close friends (the kind who know how good your biscuits are and how bad your imagination is) and because they asked, I told them: “I’m scared of something all the time. Please pray against my anxiety and fear.”

Out of one’s mouth – like a reprimand and a kiss – rolled this verse from Revelation 11:12: “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.”

And now again, it has been too long that I’ve tasted this sweet verse and its honey, the courage elixir of that hailed lady at the end of Proverbs.

So what is true about today? What is the word of my testimony?

There are two stories, and only one is true.

Version 1:

I am a mother, thought-weary, vain, and un-bathed.  I watch out the window for my hard-working husband. Every sound and sight is heightened. The wind moves the trees. My children tiptoe upstairs, out of bed. In the kitchen are hills of papers, unsoakable pots, and entire meals toddler-thrown to the floor. The refrigerator hums, clock ticks. I shrink from death. The house stretches its creaky bones.

Version 2:

What I smell, hear, and see is not the real. I bend with the broom, but it is not the true work. I have a Helper, and He testifies, tells me to pour my heart out. There is a Spirit of Truth, and He shows me a peace-table, with enemies even. Yet I eat the honey. Yet quiet waters. Yet oil drips down. No visible army shows from the behind the veil, yet Goodness and Mercy accompany me. I am a mother. I spill over with clean, and Jehovah God is here.

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