Hope in the City

DELIVERED– A Peculiar People Collaboration

Amongst the group of writers I can claim to have written just one chapter but yes, I wrote Chapter four.

320_4654160An immigrant and her young daughter, struggling to reach their dream地 special needs child, searchingfor hope地 newly released ex-con, seeking forgiveness. They have one thing in commontheyre about to be touched by God in a way they never imagined. All through a simple postcard. Brought up in a strict Muslim home in London, Sulafa has recently experienced the transforming power of Jesus Christ. Now, despite fear of discovery and its consequences, she knows she has to spread the good news. In an act of bravery, she sends out postcards with a single message: Let me pray for you. Her simple request impacts lives and brings hope in the midst of hopelessness.

The second of many anticipated books from Peculiar People, Delivered is a collection of short stories that intertwine to deliver a single message. It is the work of twenty-five authors with one united voice, proclaiming the power of God to transform lives and His ability to do the miraculous in the most ordinary of circumstances.

Amongst the group of writers I can claim to have written just one chapter but yes, I wrote Chapter four.

Chapter Four

Hope in the City –by Chrissy Siggee

Seventeen year old Sarah stepped down from the train and looked around. Haunted eyes stared out from a gaunt face. She looked around to gather her bearings. Commuters pushed and shoved their way past, almost causing her to stumble under the heaviness of her backpack. The warped wheels of her worn suitcase flip flopped behind her as she followed the crowd. Shed come to Sydney for a new life. No one here knew of her former years, which she wanted to forget…

from the book: DELIVERED– A Peculiar People Collaboration

Available now from Amazon

Whisper in the Night

The night is dark. There is no moon. A distant night-bird sings its song. Gentle breaths of wind quiver leaves against a window. Fighting cats hiss and spit, assaulting the quietness and then… abruptly ceases. Barking from some neighbours dog echoes away the intruding felines.

Silence returns momentarily before the faint sound of a babys cry lingers for just a little while. The dim of the night remains undisturbed.

I close my eyes in expectation for sleep to come. Only silence.

A suppressed whisper infiltrates the peace of the surrounding blackness. My eyes spring open. Alertness returns. What was that?Again, there is silence. Tied eyes begin to close but it transpires again. That murmur, wheres it coming from?

This time I lay awake picturing the room around me. Faint outlines of a chair appear as my eyes adjust to the gloom. The whisper returns.

My voice is barely audible. ‘Whos there?’

I feel strange but Im not afraid. Its soothing and not at all alarming. Though faint as it is, I sense an inner stirring. I slide from my bed and feel my way to the window. As I part the curtains I gaze out to the unnatural darkness. Not even a pale glow of a street light can be seen. The world is completely dark and silent. What is this?

Again, the whisper comes, this time from within my soul. ‘Pray for those who do not know me for darkness will fall upon those who do not heed my call. The day will soon be here and time is running out. I need my children to plead for the lost so they will find the light. Dont wait my child because lives are being lost to darkness every single moment. I have made you for a purpose. Through prayer you will know my will. I have given you a gift that can only be used to reveal my glory.’

The whisper fades to a hush and the world outside comes faintly into focus. I look up to the heavens where stars begin to shimmer. The sounds of the night return to my ears. Leaves rustle with the wind restirring. I turn and fall on my knees and weep for a world of lost sinners to see His light.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in
Christian Reads by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

This Soul of Mine, Its not my Own.

One day I gave my life to Jesus,
I was only six years old you know
My soul I knew, was not my own.

To church we went but once a week,
It was like that every Sunday
My soul went with me, like always.

The church we went to was so big,
All the people and the noise they made,
Within my soul, I was afraid.

I didnt know the preacher that day,
He talked about lilies and sparrow birds
My soul was alert, to these words.

My soul is worth far more than these,
Jesus died for me; why thats absurd!
What is this, my soul has heard?

Then finally some words I understood,
This man was talking right to me
Yes, into my soul, he could see.

I heard the choir sing Just as I am,
They sang those words so bold
And to my soul, they were like gold.

Wake up my child, this is for you,
A family ticket I cannot give
For this your soul, it needs to live.’

An altar call the preacher made,
What will you do with Jesus today?
As for my soul and I, we did obey.

I walked on by my mum and dad,
My brothers and my sister too;
I think my soul it knew, just what to do.

I prayed a prayer I wont forget,
I have remembered it to this day
My life and soul, to God I gave.

Now one day I will live with Him,
And no matter how long I will be known
This soul of mine, its not my own.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Archived in
Christian Poetry by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

A Melody Set Free

Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are色

Darkness had become Emmas life since the accident. The impact had left her permanently blind. The loss of her only child was the greatest burden to bear. Nothing would console her aching heart. No one could help relieve her pain. Not even James, who had sat by her bed through all the weeks of recovery, could comfort her.

True, it was not her fault. Emma had pulled to a stop at the intersection when the lights had changed from amber to red. She could still hear three year old Kate singing her favourite nursery rhyme from her child safety seat in the back of the family car. The truck had come through the red light opposite and swerved to miss a motorcycle. The truck had lost control and veered directly into Emmas car, slamming it into the car behind. The collision had also crushed her car into a van parked beside her, near the kerb.

There wasnt much she could remember of the accident itself, except for the melody of her childs song resounding in her ears. Emma hadnt even been aware her sweet young daughter had been laid to rest until she awoke from her coma three weeks later. It had been the same distressing morning she had discovered she would never again, gaze into the eyes of her beloved husband. Her heart ached so much she thought she would die.

It must have worried James to see her this way. Even after weeks of counselling and rehabilitation, she never smiled. One Sunday after the sermon, her mother led her to the kitchen area at the back of the church, where coffee was being served. James told Emma he needed to speak to their pastor and it was some time before he returned to take her home.

The following morning James stayed home a little later then usual.

‘Im waiting for a delivery,’ he explained to Emma over breakfast.

Emma heard the door bell first and edged her way to the front door, using her cane along the walls to guide her. James came to her side, and with an arm around her waist, he directed her to the front door.

‘Its here. Where do you want us to put it?’

Emma didnt recognize the cheerful voice. She assumed it was a just a delivery man. James led her to a chair in the lounge room so she would not be in harms way. James kissed her briefly, preventing her from asking any questions. ‘Wait here a moment, honey.’

‘This way!’ James called.

Emma could hear furniture being dragged across the carpeted floor. Muffled sounds came closer as James gave directions into the room. It was obviously no small package.

Excitement crept into Emmas emotions. ‘What is it James? Please tell me.’

A few moments later, James thanked the delivery men and closed the front door.

‘James?’

Without answering, James led Emma across the room to a long, flat stool and gently pulled her down to sit beside him. He reached for her hands and placed them gently on the keyboard. Her hands drew back.

‘A piano?’ Emma was puzzled.

‘Play for me?’ he asked softly.

‘But how can I see what I’m playing?’

James helped her adjust the stool so she could comfortably reach the keys. Gently lifting one of her hands, he helped her strike the keys. They both laughed and together they played a melody using two fingers. The words came easily.

Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are色

Emma began to cry and hugged her husband closely. She knew he had been conscious of her the pain. It would be the foundation of her healing, a healing of the heart.

Emma continues to play her piano. She is a songwriter and sings at their family church. A new melody echoes in her heart. A melody of Gods grace and love.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

[Author of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star: Unknown Public domain]

Archived in
Christian Reads by Chrissy at Riverside Peace