Searching Moments: A Parable

By Margaret Payton

Twenty-seven-year-old Aussie Jacinda has it all figured out. A successful lawyer, she struggles to relate to her familyespecially her mother, Brenda, whose Christian beliefs Jacinda has found to be outmoded and irrelevant following a family tragedy. But all that is about to change. Gwen, a seasoned intercessor and a good friend to Brenda, is on to Jacindas case, and who would have known that Jacindas missing brother, Jay, would prove to be the catalyst?

Through circumstances beyond her control, Jacinda winds up travelling with Gwen and a group of other pilgrims to Israel. As she searches for her sweet but naive younger brother, Jacinda does not know that God is in fact searching for her in response to Gwens prayers.

Meanwhile, thirty-year-old Moshe, their Jewish guide, is recovering from his own tragedyand is also searching for something.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781449782511

Margaret Payton

Margaret Payton is an intercessor. She is passionate about prayer and enjoys fiction and travel. These combined interests led to the writing of Searching Moments. She and her husband live in Bass Coast, Victoria. They have three daughters, a granddaughter, and a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named “Wentworth.”

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 Margaret Payton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1-[phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-8251-1 (e)

WestBow Press rev. date: 3/20/2013

Contents

A Glossary of Australian terms

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

A Glossary of Australian terms

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank Nicola Kilpatrick for her editorial assistance.

Prologue

September 2007

Wetherby, a coastal town in Victoria, Australia

Thursday morning

By Gwen’s watch, she and her bridge partner, Brenda, were right on time. As they walked into the clubrooms, Gwen gave no indication of noticing that the clock on the wall claimed they were five minutes late.

A quick scan of the room showed the only spare seats were at the far end where the current club champions were sitting. Gwen gave them a cheery wave of her oversized multi-coloured bag. Holding it aloft, she began to cross the room, dodging the card tables. Brenda followed, her eyes focused on Gwen’s high-heeled, red shoes.

As the two women sat down, their opponents greeted them with a nod. Each player picked up his or her cards and sorted them into suits.

Brenda was the first to bid: One heart.

The next player wrote: Two diamonds.

Gwen was not concerned by the intervening bid from their opponent. They may have diamonds, but her friend was signalling she had opening points and at least five hearts. Gwen had just enough strength in her hand to respond: Two hearts.

The other opponent passed.

Brenda hesitated briefly before making the final bid: Four hearts.

Game on!

23419.jpg

Friday morning 3am

Through a mental fog of tiredness, Brenda watched the cup of milk go around on the microwave turntable. Almost subconsciously, she listened out for the clunk-clunk as each revolution began.

Then she detected another sound. There was a distinct scratching noise over the extractor fan in the ceiling. A possum?

Brenda opened the microwave, removed the cup, and took it over to the sink. She slowly poured out its contents. A warm drink would not help her get back to sleep after all.

She now had something else to worry about.

23421.jpg

Dairy Run farmhouse

A few kilometres inland from Wetherby

Gwen woke up suddenly. She reached to turn on the touch lamp, and in a surprisingly graceful movement for a woman of her generous size, rolled out of bed.

She made straight for her walk-in closet, shrugging into her dressing gown en route. This closet, in the ‘granny flat’ extension of the old weatherboard farmhouse, was her favourite place on earth. It contained only two pieces of furniture: a leather chair draped with a colourwash quilt and a small bookcase overflowing with devotional books. There was a clothes rail, but no clothes hung from it. Peppered over the walls and door, secured by Blutack, was a plethora of maps, photographs, church bulletins and newspaper cuttings.

Gwen took her reading glasses out of her dressing gown pocket and flicked on the light switch inside the tiny, windowless room. Now she could shut the closet door.

Settling into the chair, she tucked the quilt around her knees before picking up her Bible and prayer diary from the top shelf of the bookcase. She flicked through the diary. On each page were two columns: the first was headed Prayer Requests and the second Date Answered. The subjects in the first set of columns ranged from her grandson’s school project to natural disasters in far-flung parts of the world. A smile of satisfaction appeared on her face as she scrolled down the second set of columns, noting the number of dates filled in.

For everything there is a season, she thought.

Then she noted a concerning pattern; there were no entries next to a variety of requests on behalf of a particular young woman. Gwen looked up. Her eyes focused directly upon a photograph of this very person. The image, showing a lovely but serious girl in her twenties, was stuck crookedly beneath the map of Australia.

Gwen cleared her lap, and stood up. As she reached for the girl’s photo she accidentally knocked sideways a newspaper picture of an Israeli soldier. He was shown praying at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, his forehead pressed against the stone.

Gwen righted the newspaper cutting and then picked up the photo. Jacinda. Brenda’s daughter. She held it for a moment, face up in the palm of her hand, before turning it over to see what she had written on the back:

We know

All things

Work together

For good …

She murmured, It’s time to push. Pray Until Something Happens.

Chapter 1

South East Melbourne

N O, MUM, JACINDA SAID, HOLDING HER mobile phone to her ear. I don’t think you should let Uncle Wes lay a trap. Possums are a protected species.

I don’t know what else to do then, Brenda replied.

Jacinda glanced at her watch. I’ll think about it and get back to you.

Has Jay been in touch? her mother asked quickly. I still haven’t heard from him …

Sorry, Mum, no. Look, can we talk later? I really must be going…

Jacinda pressed the ‘end call’ button and put the phone in her jacket pocket. She stood up from the computer table, gathered up some work papers and placed them behind the laptop already in her tote bag.

Before walking out of the apartment, Jacinda paused to check her appearance in the hall mirror. Today the junior associates were having their six-monthly appraisals. Jacinda’s previous results were all outstanding. But if she wanted to gain a partnership in the prestigious law firm one day, the high standard had to be maintained. She knew at least one of her peers was failing to achieve his business-generating target.

Jacinda was lucky enough to find a seat on the train. The train was packed with commuters as usual. She stared out the window, but barely noticed the graffiti-covered walls of the stations each time the train stopped. She was thinking about her younger brother.

It must be six weeks since his last email. That time had gone fast. Of course she had been assigned an important case at work around then. And Tristan had moved out … She figured Jay was probably just too caught up with his travels to contact them. However, Jacinda knew her mother was worried about him. Perhaps she could pay Mum a visit this weekend.

As for the other problem, Jacinda decided to ask one of the legal secretaries at her Melbourne CBD office to look into the correct procedure for evicting possums. Then she would arrange for someone to go around to the property and deal with it.

23319.jpg

They were thinking of letting her go!

Jacinda sat opposite Philip MacKenzie, one of the senior partners at the law firm, desperately trying to focus on his explanations. She had to stifle an absurd desire to giggle.

So having lost a number of key clients … one of them being yours, Philip enunciated carefully, looking over the rim of his glasses, we have no option but to cut back on staff. The partners decided that two of the junior associates would have to leave at the end of this month.

It was that **** client! Jacinda wanted to say. I gave him the best legal advice and he simply would not take it!

Philip picked up a file from his desk. I note you have two months’ leave accrued, Jacinda. That should give you some time to assess your options.

I see. Uh … thank you, Mr Mackenzie.

Jacinda left the office at five o’clock on the dot. For the next three weeks she intended to do the minimum required.

The rush hour was at its height. Jacinda had to stand on the train for the return journey, holding onto a support handle to try and keep her balance. The briefcases and laptops around her seemed to be smirking, ‘Our owners have something important to do.’

As she walked from the railway station to her apartment, Jacinda briefly considered trying to contact Tristan. Her intense career focus had been a major source of conflict between them.

His parting shot had stung. ‘It’s always all about you, Jacinda!’

No … she would spend the evening in the company of a good book, wine and chocolate.

23322.jpg

The next morning, Jacinda packed some clothes into an overnight bag. She wished she hadn’t sent a text message before the appraisal to tell her mum she would visit the country this weekend. It was too late now … She would have to try and keep the loss of her job quiet. At least until she had another position lined up. Mum had enough concerns at the moment.

Before letting herself out, Jacinda looked back at the apartment. It was modern, and furnished throughout in off-white. Reproduction artwork and scented candles gave a little colour.

The place was too big for her now … and definitely too expensive.

Once out of Melbourne, Jacinda began to enjoy the two-hour drive. She put on a favourite CD when she reached the coastal stretch of the Bass Highway, and hummed along to it. She had made this trip many times in total, but it was three or four months since the last occasion. The beautiful beaches to the right looked familiar, but the fields to the left were uniformly brown. And this was dairy country. Drought in Melbourne meant restricting the watering of your garden to every other day; here it could mean the loss of your livelihood.

Suddenly, Jacinda had to brake. There was a build-up of traffic ahead. Looking into the distance, she could just make out that a smallish truck had dropped its load.

She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited in the queue of vehicles. Gazing out of the car window, she noted a billboard positioned near the side of the road. It read: Enjoy the view … while you can! Of course! The locals were protesting the state government’s proposal to build a huge desalination plant in the area. Jacinda had seen the relevant minister announce the plan on the news some weeks back. She had not given it much attention at the time, but could well imagine her Aunt Ellie, a passionate ‘greenie’, writing letters to the editor and waving placards.

Jacinda wondered if there might be any lucrative legal work available. She recognised that something had to be done about Melbourne’s water supply; the proposed plant would have the capacity to turn vast volumes of seawater into drinking water. She also knew that tourism and wildlife in this area could come under threat.

Jacinda bit her lip. She was honest enough to admit she would have cared far more had the government chosen Phillip Island or the Cape beach as the site.

This part of the coast had been spoilt for her years ago.

Jacinda had to waste valuable time finding a parking spot. Wetherby was unusually busy. Waiting for the truck driver to clear his goods from the highway had already cost her a quarter of an hour. She needed to ensure her mother left the shop on Wetherby’s main street – where she worked part-time – promptly. Unlike Melbourne, shops here shut at midday on Saturdays.

Jacinda briskly wove between the last-minute shoppers on her way to the Patchwork and More. She smothered a swear word as, without breaking her stride, she pushed through the shop door and noted her mother was demonstrating how to use one of the sewing machines.

She took a deep breath. Putting on her be-nice-to-the-client smile, Jacinda positioned herself within sight of the customer. You wouldn’t mind me having a quick word with my Mum, would you?

Jacinda turned to her mother. It’s about the possum. I’ve arranged for a man to come and check it out.

Oh, Brenda said, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble … She gave her daughter a quick hug.

The customer began to murmur that she could come back another day.

No, really, Brenda assured her, that’s not necessary. Turning back to Jacinda she added, why don’t you take my house-keys and go on ahead?

It took Jacinda barely ten minutes to drive to the Cape. She slowed down as she turned into Seascape Drive. Gran’s house was situated at the end of this road – on a double block. Brenda had been living there since Gran had been admitted into a nursing home eighteen months earlier.

As Jacinda got out of the car her mind switched into lawyer mode. The old house had seen better days but she believed the place could still fetch a good price at auction. A savvy property investor could offer the house itself for removal and then build three or four holiday units on the land. Sadly, she realised the property would need to be sold at some point and the proceeds divided between her mother and Uncle Wes. Jacinda intended to protect her mother’s best interests – after all, Brenda had done most of the caring for Gran. Now Jacinda might have a little free time to look into the matter.

She began to make her way up the winding stone path. Although she knew Mum battled to keep the garden the way Gran had lovingly planted and tended it, she disliked its present untidy state. As Jacinda passed by a rusting sundial that claimed to ‘count the sunny hours’, she saw a sparrow hop from this feature onto a nearby stone birdbath. Happy to find a little water, the small bird had no complaints.

A few early daffodils and Dutch iris adorned the raised flowerbeds. Scattered amongst them were little signs on spikes. Written on the signs were Gran’s favourite garden sayings. Jacinda paused to set in place one that had fallen over. It read:

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

The flowers appear on the earth …

Jacinda found she could not agree with the saying this year. There had been so little rain that the past months had not seemed like winter at all.

As soon as she turned the key in the lock, the barking started. Digger, Jay’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel, began to settle down when she gave him a tummy tickle. Jacinda liked animals but she felt her brother should have put the dog in a kennel while he went backpacking in Europe. Instead, Mum had allowed herself to be ‘put-upon’ again. It was exasperating.

Jacinda passed through the fabric-cluttered lounge on her way towards the tiny kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a ‘stick-it’ note on the computer monitor. The computer had sat at one end of the