For [livejournal.com profile] muse_playground 121. Everything beautiful happens at night.

Aug. 25th, 2007 04:53 pm
sacredeyes: (Pious)
[personal profile] sacredeyes
Peninnah had meager skills when it came to domesticity but when she saw just how many went hungry in the city it was not something she could bear. Taking the little money she had received in the offering box she took to the store and bought a few meager supplies with what she had. The store owner had been thoughtful when she had divulged why she had come down from the church and donated extra goods.

Peninnah left and reminded herself to light a candle for her family at evening prayer. Returning early to the church she started about her tasks. First she picked the apples that were falling from the trees as well as any others of suitable quality. It took her most of the morning to peel and clean the large basket of apples. Once that was through she set them to cook and started the soup she had decided to make. It was an old recipe that Father Chrisofer used in the winter when rations were meager. She knew though that the soup would be filling and pleasant to those who were without so often.

The church grew too warm from cooking in the small living space. She set about opening the windows and then went into the gardens to pick flowers. With a large bundle of them she decorated the main room. It wasn’t the best looking and she didn’t have any tables but it would be suitable. As the hours passed she tended the food and took to cleaning up a bit. Toward evening she lit the candles and felt the tinge of excitement.

For too long she had been sorry for her own condition but that had passed. It was a freeing feeling to return to her duties caring for others. It reminded her of a time long ago during the war. The bombings had driven many from their homes without more than what they wore. Through those times she aided others to feed the populace of the area. It was not a happy memory but it was one that filled her with a purpose. She was not a priest, could not give service or absolve sins but she could care for people. That duty was a great service to God and his people.

Night had fallen but the church remained brightly lit. Time came and she brought out the two large pots; one of stew and one of cooked sugar apples. She wasn’t sure if they tasted as they should but they appeared cooked as she remembered seeing them. She had not told many of this day but word of mouth was a powerful thing. She was busying herself with final preparations when the first arrived. It was the guitar player from out front who had come not to eat but lend a hand.

She was grateful for his presence when the others started to arrive; women, children, men, young, old and all out of luck. She greeted them all, learning their names and faces. When all were served she went about the crowd of 40 or so who had already come for dinner to offer comfort. Peninnah could not be sure how many arrived because she could not count but numbers did not matter. She had little but they had less and sometimes a kind word was almost as good as money.

Food remained to be served and she would keep the doors open until it was gone. Priests make vows of poverty and to serve God faithfully. Peninnah had never needed such things. She was created for that purpose alone. She served God and protected his children. This night was the first in many years where she felt that duty was fulfilled.

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Peninnah

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