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Chapter 9:- Chapter 2 (Part 2)
“Come on!” exclaimed Rebecca as Rachel quickly caught up with the running group of girls.
They were soon nearing the edge of the festival, each of them praying that they might make it in time before anyone took notice of their absence. Fairly quickly, the tables ahead seemingly became closer, till they were almost there.
As soon as their feet touched the border of the festival, they sighed in relief, but not stopping, they continued running. Turning left, and zigzagging through the many booths and tables that had been set up and were quickly being emptied and left, they made their way towards a large open area near the center of the festival grounds where the crowd of people had gathered around. Rachel’s father sat waiting.
Rachel faintly waved back at the girls and made her way past those sitting, walking towards her father who sat no less than twenty feet away from the crowd.
“You’re late,” he said in a hushed voice only loud enough to reach his daughter’s ears.
“Yes, I’m sorry father,” she replied.
“Care to fill me in on the details?” he asked amusingly, softening his forced stern appearance.
“Well, um, Rebecca and the girls had wanted to show me something out in the fields,” she replied, purposefully not mentioning exactly what that something was to her father.
“Very well,” he smiled, “Have you enjoyed yourself this evening?”
She nodded, “Yes, it’s been quite nice.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it later,” he grinned proudly and then with a wink added, “Your cooking has been the talk of the town.”
Rachel blushed, her almost thirteen year old cheeks turning bright red, “N-No, they couldn’t be.”
“No, it’s true; I haven’t met one person who hasn’t mentioned the fact that they were heavenly,” he said standing up and kissing her on her forehead.
“Daddy,” she whispered embarrassingly, “People are watching.”
“Let them,” he smiled at her, “So, are you all prepared for tonight’s ceremonial prayer?”
“I think so,” she replied.
“Alright then, I’ll go and tell everyone that it will commence now,” he said moving towards the seated crowd that was almost full.
Rachel went over the lines once more. The festival’s closing ceremonial prayer was just about as important as was the prayer said after the harvest planting. It was a precise and traditionally dictated prayer repeated only once a year, and a great honor for anyone to have the chance to give it. This only made her feel all the more nervous.
This was in no way to imply that she had trouble at prayer, far from it, she found it quite easy to speak prayerful words, however, a prayer so precise and important as this made even her tremble.
What if she failed to recite it correctly? The thought struck terror through her.
She shook her head, blocking the thought from her mind, knowing it would only make it worse.
Gulping nervously, and silently praying for a short moment for some mustard seed sized courage, she listened for her father’s words.
“Thank you everyone for the wonderful gifts you shared with all of us today here tonight, and thank you for partaking in such a joyous occasion. Please prepare to bow as my daughter recites the annual prayer,” Rachel’s father said as he moved to the right slightly, waiting for his daughter to move forward towards the crowd.
Silently, and with a humble smile on her face, she walked forward towards everyone, her head held low. Her heart raced nervously from one erratic beat to the next. This was it; it was time.
After weeks upon weeks of preparation alone of memorization and reciting the prayer, this was when it all came together. This was when it counted.
Not only that, but by having the father that she did, she had an extra added responsibility to get it perfect. Her performance would be a reflection on her father, and possibly viewed as a reflection on his leadership. It was a lot for a still less than thirteen year old girl to handle.
Kneeling on the ground, she folded her hands together, slowly lowering her head. The townspeople in the crowd quickly followed suit, many lowering their hats to their chests as well.
She gradually opened her mouth, “Oh Lord of heaven above……”
It was at this exact moment that terror struck her deeply at every far reaching corner of her body.
She had forgotten the rest of the prayer.
She searched for the words, the words she had so precisely memorized even up until
several seconds earlier, but they were gone, as if she had never studied them before in her life.
Hundreds upon hundreds of people sat waiting before her, waiting to hear it, among them, her father.
“Come on!” exclaimed Rebecca as Rachel quickly caught up with the running group of girls.
They were soon nearing the edge of the festival, each of them praying that they might make it in time before anyone took notice of their absence. Fairly quickly, the tables ahead seemingly became closer, till they were almost there.
As soon as their feet touched the border of the festival, they sighed in relief, but not stopping, they continued running. Turning left, and zigzagging through the many booths and tables that had been set up and were quickly being emptied and left, they made their way towards a large open area near the center of the festival grounds where the crowd of people had gathered around. Rachel’s father sat waiting.
Rachel faintly waved back at the girls and made her way past those sitting, walking towards her father who sat no less than twenty feet away from the crowd.
“You’re late,” he said in a hushed voice only loud enough to reach his daughter’s ears.
“Yes, I’m sorry father,” she replied.
“Care to fill me in on the details?” he asked amusingly, softening his forced stern appearance.
“Well, um, Rebecca and the girls had wanted to show me something out in the fields,” she replied, purposefully not mentioning exactly what that something was to her father.
“Very well,” he smiled, “Have you enjoyed yourself this evening?”
She nodded, “Yes, it’s been quite nice.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it later,” he grinned proudly and then with a wink added, “Your cooking has been the talk of the town.”
Rachel blushed, her almost thirteen year old cheeks turning bright red, “N-No, they couldn’t be.”
“No, it’s true; I haven’t met one person who hasn’t mentioned the fact that they were heavenly,” he said standing up and kissing her on her forehead.
“Daddy,” she whispered embarrassingly, “People are watching.”
“Let them,” he smiled at her, “So, are you all prepared for tonight’s ceremonial prayer?”
“I think so,” she replied.
“Alright then, I’ll go and tell everyone that it will commence now,” he said moving towards the seated crowd that was almost full.
Rachel went over the lines once more. The festival’s closing ceremonial prayer was just about as important as was the prayer said after the harvest planting. It was a precise and traditionally dictated prayer repeated only once a year, and a great honor for anyone to have the chance to give it. This only made her feel all the more nervous.
This was in no way to imply that she had trouble at prayer, far from it, she found it quite easy to speak prayerful words, however, a prayer so precise and important as this made even her tremble.
What if she failed to recite it correctly? The thought struck terror through her.
She shook her head, blocking the thought from her mind, knowing it would only make it worse.
Gulping nervously, and silently praying for a short moment for some mustard seed sized courage, she listened for her father’s words.
“Thank you everyone for the wonderful gifts you shared with all of us today here tonight, and thank you for partaking in such a joyous occasion. Please prepare to bow as my daughter recites the annual prayer,” Rachel’s father said as he moved to the right slightly, waiting for his daughter to move forward towards the crowd.
Silently, and with a humble smile on her face, she walked forward towards everyone, her head held low. Her heart raced nervously from one erratic beat to the next. This was it; it was time.
After weeks upon weeks of preparation alone of memorization and reciting the prayer, this was when it all came together. This was when it counted.
Not only that, but by having the father that she did, she had an extra added responsibility to get it perfect. Her performance would be a reflection on her father, and possibly viewed as a reflection on his leadership. It was a lot for a still less than thirteen year old girl to handle.
Kneeling on the ground, she folded her hands together, slowly lowering her head. The townspeople in the crowd quickly followed suit, many lowering their hats to their chests as well.
She gradually opened her mouth, “Oh Lord of heaven above……”
It was at this exact moment that terror struck her deeply at every far reaching corner of her body.
She had forgotten the rest of the prayer.
She searched for the words, the words she had so precisely memorized even up until
several seconds earlier, but they were gone, as if she had never studied them before in her life.
Hundreds upon hundreds of people sat waiting before her, waiting to hear it, among them, her father.
