How I Met Peace: An Allegory

By Christine F. Perry

Charity feels left behind and unsure where she fits. Her closest friends, Fear, Worry, Condemnation are always pulling her one way or another until she finally finds the strength to leave her hometown of Stay-the-Same. Her launch into the outside world takes her on an unforgettable adventure filled with pain and beauty, trials and excitement―and ultimately, belonging.

How I Met Peace is a delightful, allegorical challenges readers to step out into the unknown―to risk―to give up their ideal world for Christ's kingdom―to find peace in the journey of surrender, even in unsteady places where faith and confusion collide.

Charity's journey reminds the reader that despite tough circumstances and challenging people, God never leaves. He fights for those that are His.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorLoyalty
• Release date: Apr 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781632695673

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The wedding

It was a special day, but I had been here before. I was attending yet another wedding. Before I got out of my car to walk to the church, I paused a moment, peering into the mirror on my sun visor. My foundation was flawless; my eye makeup pristine—cat eyes and all. My lip color matched my beautifully soft rose-colored dress. Long brunette hair with gold highlights softly curled around my face. One last glance in my mirror revealed eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill over and leave streaks down my unblemished face. How many times have I been here? I love my friend. I’m thrilled she found the one to spend her life with, but why is it so hard for me to find such a one? Will I ever have a celebration of my own? I desperately wished for more: a husband, a fulfilling career, a passion, a place to belong. I know there is more in me, more to give, but I don’t know where to look. I feel helplessly stuck and overlooked!

All I wanted was for the aching in my heart to stop.

Gently dabbing my eyes with a tissue dug up from the bottom of my purse, I took one last deep breath and stepped out of my car. Come on, Charity, you can do this. Get it together; by 9 pm it should be over, and you can go home.

Making my slow walk into the church, I asked myself, Am I that different from the other girls? Our families did not have much, monetarily speaking, but we were full of resolve and empathy. We worked hard, loved, and served well, and we lived our lives to the best of our ability. We loved our home county of Stay-the-Same, in the Kingdom of More, and we supported our King.

The older I got, and the more weddings I attended, the more my singleness became frustratingly apparent. More of my friends showed up as couples and I was not following suit even though I desperately wanted to. By now, most of my friends had found their significant other, and some were on their second, third, or fourth child.

Why am I not married? Did I miss some step along the way? I was surrounded by marriage and children—none of which were my own. Like a visitor in an aquarium, I looked through the glass at something I desperately wanted but could not access. Meanwhile, I did what most visitors do—smile, and wave through the glass.

My dwindling single friends were now people younger than me, busy making names for themselves. Achieving master’s degrees, traveling, or thriving in their career fields.

And this wedding? It was for a family friend, the youngest child. The couple to marry were five years my junior. The why question screamed out inside my hollow heart. Why was this the narrative of my life? What was the purpose? I dreaded walking inside, tired of the comments people in my town would make. No one on the horizon yet, Charity?

In the slow line to sign the guest book, one of my good friends, Irony, called across the room, Hey, Charity! I was hoping I would see you here. How are you? Anything new going on?

I wished I could have said: Well, I just nailed my dream job, or I’m engaged, or I’m heading to some exotic country, but none of it would be true. The fact was nothing new was happening in my life, except maybe the depression that felt as though it were nipping at my heels. But even that was not new—although it was more deeply felt. I’d worked as a manager for nearly five years in a thrift store named Second Chances. The only new thing going on with me was the fall wear we would be rolling out in the next few weeks.

As I started to answer, little Joy with her blonde curly hair, shyly peered around her mother's dress and said, Momma, I need to go potty. Irony, knowing the urgency of a three-year-old’s bladder, quickly halted the conversation to attend to her daughter’s need.

I’m sorry. I’ve got to get this one, she said, pointing her head in Joy’s direction, to the bathroom before the ceremony. . . Catch up soon?

Yes, sure, I said, thankful I had dodged a complicated bullet. Irony always said she never wanted marriage or kids. She always wanted to live as a single woman. Turns out, she had the life I wanted and I, the life she wanted—at least the singleness part. Trying to explain why my life seemed stagnant and without purpose was a quandary even to me. I didn’t know what next step to take toward my frightening future. Inside I felt like a complete failure and totally alone.

I sent out a few smiles and waves to friends as I hurried into the sanctuary. If only I could find a seat before anyone else asked me questions or shared some deep wisdom on what I needed to do with my life and how to find the one. Or, at least some tips on how to get out there. Didn’t they know how many times I tried? How many avenues I gave a shot? Or how many set-ups I accepted? Thankfully, I got to my seat and didn’t recognize the person sitting next to me. For the moment, there was relief.

As familiar family members and friends shuffled in, childhood memories echoed. Charity, of all the girls, will be the first one to be married, was something I heard often, but to everyone’s disappointment, mostly my own, this was not the case. And now, no one really knew what to do with me. I sighed and shifted in my seat. In my early twenties being single was great! It felt like everyone was available to hang out whenever we wanted. There was so much community. Now, the single’s community was growing non-existent. I felt like there was a spotlight on me and I wore a sign on my head that read, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing with my life.

Breaking my thoughts, Canon in D started to play on the piano, accompanied with the sonorous sound of the cello. The music directed my attention to the front of the room as the groom and groomsmen took the stage. I knew them all. The first groomsman married my sister. The second groomsman was my former manager and married my friend. The third groomsman and I used to go to school together. Many of the families in our town thought we’d end up together, but I never saw him in any other way than a good friend. He had become a successful entrepreneur, and that was where his priorities lay. Lastly, there was the groom. He was new to our county. He moved here only a few years ago to go to Stay-the-Course University. He immediately hit it off with my friend in his first semester there. Their relationship bloomed quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were engaged.

The music picked up a little, as my younger sister floated down the aisle in her soft purple dress, setting the stage for the others to follow. The second bridesmaid had married last year. Although she tried hard to hide her seven months pregnant belly, it wasn’t working out too well. She still was absolutely stunning. The last bridesmaid to walk down the aisle was my dear friend, the older sister of the bride. I sighed quietly. When we were younger, we were thick as thieves. We had sleepovers, pool parties, always with some mischief sprinkled in. But she moved, her priorities changed, and we grew apart as we got older. We were still cordial but not kindred spirits anymore. The flower girls did their absolute best but there still were a few too many petals in certain spots and not enough in others. It’s a lot of pressure for two three-year-old girls.

Finally as the large wooden doors creaked and were propped open by the ushers, one glance at the bride commanded everyone to stand to attention. The wedding march began, the bride glided her way down the aisle. Full of grace and beauty, she not only captivated her groom, she captivated the entire room.

Upon hearing the I dos, I witnessed their solidifying and tender kiss. Both bride and groom were beaming. Their smiles lit up their entire faces. Weddings always make me tear up. Because in this life, marriage is one of the most important decisions a person can make.

CHAPTER 2

The time I met Worry

Standing in a single-file line, waiting to congratulate the bride and groom, I wondered if I’d see Worry. After so many weddings, you forget who you might see in attendance.

I reached for my phone to ask her if she was there and smiled, remembering how I met her nearly five years ago at yet another friend’s wedding:

Can I have a Shirley Temple? I had asked the bartender, not paying much mind to the girl next to me draped over the bar.

Ha! The last time I had a Shirley Temple, I was twelve! Are you some kind of teetotaler?

At first, it didn’t register that she was talking to me. When it did, I looked in her direction quizzically.

Oh, no, I am not. I have an hour-and-a-half drive home, I said politely.

Well, I guess that’s responsible of you. . . Can I have another jack and coke? She said, lifting her glass to the bartender.

The experienced bartender did what he did best: served without judgment. Picking up a thin black straw, he stirred the cherry syrup just a little more, grabbed a napkin, handed my drink to me, and then went on to fill the inquisitive girl’s glass.

Thank you, I said, attempting to walk away from the crowd of people and into the lobby.

Hey, are you single? It was the girl again.

I looked around to see who she might be talking to. Both the bartender and I looked at each other, and then we looked at her.

You. . . she said, as she pointed to the bartender. Well, both of you, but mostly you. . . she pointed back to the bartender.

No, I am engaged, he said, as he handed the woman her jack and coke and then went on cleaning up the few drops of spilled maraschino cherry syrup.

See! the woman said.

I uncomfortably stirred my drink, peered into my glass, and then back at the woman, wondering about the wisdom of getting sucked into this conversation.

All the good men are gone. And as they say, the older you get, the less choice you have! her rant continued. This is my fourth wedding this year. I’ve tried online dating, blind dates, speed dating, and what does it get me? Nothing.

She paused to take another gulp of her jack and coke. I grabbed the