The Trumpet Call Home by Alexis Ragan

Lo woke up earlier than usual, and it wasn’t to look for more sea glass. Last night she had a dream that was equally startling as it was perplexing to her, and she needed to walk it off. 

From what she can remember, she was sitting on the edge of a secluded dock with a pile of fishing nets in her lap, nowhere near the likes of Catalina Island, where she resided— and her fingers were tightly tangled into them. As hard as she tried to free them, the knots would only worsen, coiling like insidious snakes around her weak hands. She recalled the heavy tossing and turning as her dreamt self-struggled with a stubbornness she couldn’t quite identify.  Why couldn’t she just ask for help? Suddenly, to her left, she caught the faint silhouette of a man, light as air and bold as the sun, but it looked as though he was walking away from her. How could he do that? The dream ended the moment she cried out to the sky, with pearls of blood dripping from her fingers and onto the now stained nets. Lo’s eyes shot open abruptly. She had broken out into an uncomfortable sweat and her hands were cramped and trembling. 

A dose of dawn’s early mist would do her good. Pacing along the shore of Avalon before the hills slipped out of their shadows and the locals out of their sheets, Lo brushed her toes under a stretch of untouched sand. She was frustrated with how worked up she had become over something that was merely caricatured in her mind. Perhaps it bothered her that the solution to the problem in the dream seemed so simple yet felt so far away. Or was it the fact that she needed someone else to cut her out of her predicament to be free? Worst of all, as one often finds themselves swimming through the pool of lethargy when recovering from a dream of such darkness and depth, she was left with the near unbearable presence of isolation looming over her every movement, even though the horrors were over and she was awake; Lo had never felt more alone in her life. It was as if no one was there, wait— technically the man—well, it was as if no one stayed to help her. Regardless of such ruminations, for a moment she felt relieved to consider that, despite their similarities, the girl in the dream wasn’t even her.

She only had my hair color, Lo thought. Well, maybe she sounded a bit like me too. 

Still, these things made no real difference. There, in the cavernous ponds of her heart, a certain inner stirring told her that this dream was specifically directed towards her life, and this realization caused the salt laced air to solidify painfully in her throat as she swallowed with a sting.

Lo knew what would get her mind off of this. She would search for more shells to add to her well recognized collection. Ever since she was a young girl, she had become an expert at finding everything from shark teeth to the occasional conch. However, from the many trinkets and treasures she had stumbled across over her eighteen years, her favorite find had to be that of the abalone shells that she cracked open and polished to bring the silky violet insides to life. What she really liked about these shells were how their glassy inner tinted surfaces reminded her of her father’s spectacles, how they blended and reflected every violet, blue, and moss-covered hue on the island. 

As a child, she found herself mesmerized by the miniature prisms they would create when the sun entered the large casement windows and bounced off the walls then onto her freckled face; Lo adored those rainbow ring-shaped glasses. And even though she had no age to pinpoint when her hobby began, she could tell anyone at any time that she had always been fond of the sea. At least what it provided her. No one ever taught Lo how to swim and she never had the courage to try.

***

Lo brought back a handful of ordinary scallops and tulip shells, nothing worth showing off. She was still shaken up by the dream and had no appetite for betting today.   

“What’d you find today Lo?” asked Sye, a zealous regular who took special delight in making offers on her finds, and then putting her down when she had nothing for him to make his own. 

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” she huffed back in a defensive, unengaged tone.  

“Maybe luck comes tomorrow then,” he shot back in a belittling laugh, then walked away to the tent where a circle of men and women were practically drooling over the other fresh gems recently pulled out from the morning shore.

Luck. Yea, right. 

That was another problem. Lo hadn’t been “lucky” for two weeks now and it was just like Sye to go and push it in her face. Lo scuffed up the stairs of the one-bedroom apartment she shared with her friend, Beatrice, ever since her father had kicked her out of the house. Speaking of luck — the very ring of the word itself irked the memory of their last argument. Suddenly, she found herself recounting the night she started to hate him.

***

It was well after two in the morning and the unapologetic rays of dawn were already bleeding their way through the curtains. Lo, trying to quiet the clattering shells in her satchel, slowly creaked open the front door. 

“Where have you been?” Reuben asked, sitting rigidly on the couch with a stare drenched in cold concern.

“I told you, last night’s tide—”

“Brought you gifts is that it? Wake up Lo! This business of yours has turned into idolatry!” He cut Lo off sharply.

She had never heard this tone before. 

“What? No, you don’t understand. I’ve been lucky ever since—”

“Lucky?! Blessed Lo, not lucky. Blessed is what you are, yet you are too blind to even see it,” Reuben raged with the heaviest disappointment in his voice.

 Lo just stood there, speechless. This time she would not shy away from speaking her mind. She would finish what she had to say.  

“Blessed by who, by what? Father, look around you!” she yelled, pointing to the empty walls and the scarce countertops. “How long have we been struggling? That's right. When mom died, and for me that’s been since my very first breath! I’m just trying to help provide comfort where we need it and you can’t even be happy with all that I’ve found…for us,” Lo finished defensively, her heart absorbing the heaviness in his eyes and the room's darkness of grief now that she had brought mom up.

Reuben just looked at her, slowly shaking his head until he finally turned his back.

“No. Not for us. For you. And you’ve found nothing that hasn’t been given to you. Have you forgotten who this all belongs to? Who you belong to? You don’t even realize that what you’ve been gifted comes from the very one who you abandoned.”

“You can’t be talking about God right now—”

“You know exactly He is the one I am talking about! You’ve forgotten all about Him, and now you're sloughing your life away by stealing what He made in order to make empty bets that even you know leave you hollow when they’re over with.”

At this, he began making his way towards Lo’s altar that was decorated with the shells she kept for herself to adorn and admire.

“What are you doing?!” Lo yelled, realizing what he was about to do. “Dad, don’t!”

“What I should have done a long time ago,” he responded in a thunderous voice, and with one heavy blow, swiped both his hands across the vanity, knocking every shell to the ground without leaving one intact. 

“Forgive me Father for losing her,” he cried, “please bring my daughter back!”

  Lo fell to her knees in blistering tears, attempting to pick up the more salvageable pieces of her collection, but every time she tried, Reuben just kept kicking them away from her with his feet.

“I hate you!” Lo shrieked, now holding the thumb that had been sliced from a glass shard. “How could you do this to me?”

“One day you’ll realize this was for you,” Reuben responded in a much more somber, softer voice, “out of my love for the Lo I’ve lost and want back. Until then, I want you gone when I wake up. If you can’t live without this corrupt devotion of yours, stay with someone who supports it as much as you. I’ll have nothing to do with it,” he concluded, his head sitting low on his shoulders now, the same iridescent spectacles resting on the bridge of his freckled nose, but something was different. They were no longer sparkling with the same splash of color that always captured Lo’s heart; she looked past the two foggy mirrors and could see that he was crying. 

That very night, Lo called Beatrice to make new living arrangements, and left immediately once her father had fallen asleep. She was too numb to clean up the mess he had made. 

He was the one who had made it after all, she thought, right?

***

  It was evening again, and not much in Lo’s state had changed. Instead of counting shells while eating dinner with Beatrice, she decided to skip the business and lay down to sleep off the events of the previous night. 

“Ruhamah,” a deep, solid voice whispered.

A fierce bolt of emotion shot through Lo’s body, but she remained as still as a wall.

“Search for me Lo-Ruhamah, come home,” the voice rumbled again, just moments later.

This time Lo couldn’t ignore the voice. The first time she heard it, she tried to convince herself Beatrice must have been talking to one of her strange friends on the phone in the other room. This time, the richness in this voice enveloped her with a sobering warmth she could feel but was absolutely terrified of. 

“You’ve got the wrong girl,” Lo instinctually responded in the thick of the silence, not realizing she had said it so loud that Beatrice came in; she heard practically everything.

“You alright Lo?” Beatrice asked, peeping her head through the illuminated crack of her door. 

“Yea, why?”

“I dunno, I thought I just heard you talking to someone.”

“No, it was nothing. Nothing at all.”

***

The Avalon hills were overflowing with freshly budded lavender, rabbits, and the perfect green hideaway trails for Lo to hike in the spirit of getting her mind off things. This morning, she was walking along her favorite path when Jude noticed her from a distance.

“Lo, Lo!” he waved from the bottom of the hill she stood on as if it were her own sacred platform. Great, she thought. Him again. He skipped his way to greet her with the same candescent grin that always seemed to be cemented on his face. 

“Oh. Hey Jude,” Lo replied in a reserved tone, right away noticing he was holding his leather Bible in hand.

“I thought you’d like to join me this time,” he smiled, pointing to the chapel that lay at the peak of Avalon’s lush backcountry. 

From where they stood, the white fixture, no larger than a petite sailboat, looked as though it was floating on the glistening sea of green that lay before them. Lo had gotten so good at blowing off Jude that she had lost sight of how stunning the church really was until now. In all of its quiet simplicity, it waited so patiently for people to pour into its frame, and stood with the calmest posture of welcome. It was a solid place that didn’t shout, but seemed to whisper her way, “come as you are.” Something gentle inside was telling Lo to go with him this time, but she fought back the feeling with fear.

“I thought you’d get the idea by now that I am not interested,” Lo responded without a filter.

“It’s never too late! There is always a place for you here,” Jude returned with a warm voice of reassurance. 

She looked at the church once more, this time investigating it from top to bottom. The old pearl painted cross crowning the roof sparkled in the sun, and the building stood with a beautiful stillness that she lacked in her own life. She needed this kind of certainty in her life. When had it left her?

“Well, ok,” Lo said hesitantly, “I suppose going just this once wouldn’t hurt…” 

“Praise the Lord! You won’t regret this,” Jude jumped up with joy. “Let’s go find some seats before the service begins.” 

Jude and Lo walked side by side up the lush hills dotted with an accolade of peach, periwinkle, and white wildflowers. Spring time was especially radiant in Avalon, with the slant of fresh earth overflowing with fresh verdure, it was practically spilling into the crisp blue coast. Outside of the church, they could see that more people than usual, dressed in their pastel best, were gathered in fellowship outside the tall wooden doors. Lo started to wonder why it was this busy today. 

“He is risen!” several people in the crowd were saying with a liberating joy.  “He has risen indeed!” Jude responded with a celebratory disposition. Stunned, Lo looked at him, not knowing what to say. 

“Today is Easter Sunday,” he said, examining the surprise on her face, “I thought you knew. You know what that means, don’t you?” 

Did she?  Had she forgotten? Suddenly, Lo’s mind flashed back to her five year old self sitting in the pews of her childhood chapel. 

She was wearing the cream white and pink ribboned spring dress her father had gotten her for this particular service, for “it was special,” he said, and “marked the miracle of all history, so put on your listening ears,” he emphasized — and so, she did listen, but this time, she opened the ears of her heart. Little Lo, clicking her heels in curiosity, looked up at the colorful stained glass window, and inside one of the frames was amazed to see a lamb, purer than the whitest pearl, sitting on a glittering, engraved throne. Suddenly, the Pastor began speaking with a passion that was new to Lo. 

“Who is the Lamb?” he asked, standing in front of the congregation, “that takes away the sins of the world?” Lo looked again at the glass lamb to see that it was now see through and shimmering from the sun rays that had passed over the window. This lamb of God, light as air and bold as the sun, was wrapping around her with everlasting arms she felt her whole self melting in. And this was the day she invited Jesus to come and live in her child heart. 

“I remember,” Lo quietly responded after returning to reality. 

“Well, that is good news Lo! Truly, there is no greater news than this!” Jude replied.

Together, they entered the church filled to the brim with Avalon’s vibrant community. As they found their seats near the back in a quiet corner, familiar feelings were resurfacing in Lo that she was not comfortable with. Not comfortable because it felt so right and different from what she had experienced so wrong for so long. The cross at the altar was carefully wrapped in green vines and yellow roses with buds of baby breath garnishing the golden wood, and there at the head of the cross rested a delicate thorn crown. Gazing at it in all of its rugged beauty, Lo began to tear up as she suddenly began to remember God’s company in her life as a young girl. 

How free she felt growing up in His presence near the hillsided sea. When did she start to feel so alone? When had He left her? She started tearing up at the thought of such separation. Or was she the one that had left Him? Lo knew she was to blame for their fractured relationship, in fact, she was beginning to see that she had completely cut God off as she entered adulthood and replaced Him with creations she thought would keep her safe and seen. In truth, the idols are what left her isolated and kept her too long away from home. But where was home? Lo had felt like a wanderer for as long as she could remember, and after her dad had kicked her out, she felt even more alone, like a hopeless drifter. What’s more, how could she begin to think of coming home if she didn’t even know where home was anymore?

I am your home, she felt a warm nudge from within quietly telling her.  

Throughout the entire sermon, Lo was plunged deep in thought and felt deeply convicted about her current state of living distant from the One who had made her, and once saved her. It was as if, during this service, the Spirit had reopened Lo’s ears to hear like she did on her first Easter Sunday service. She could hear the gospel crystal clearly now, clearer than the waters in the transparent, coral rich coves near her childhood home, and her heart was trembling passionately within her chest. 

When the service was over, Lo briskly slipped as quickly as she could out the back without saying goodbye to Jude, heading directly to the beach with hot tears whisking off her face and into the wild spring wind. 

“Lo, Wait!” she heard Jude echo behind her. 

She didn’t want to talk to him and was afraid he would follow after her. So, walking fast quickly turned to jogging which rapidly evolved into running as fast as she could down the grassy plains away from the church, until she finally tripped and began rolling down the hills uncontrollably. Her body, rashed and red, hit the shore hard when the hill stopped where dirt met sand. 

God, Lo whispered in her trembling heart, are you still there?

I never once left you. I am with you, a reassurance echoed in the depths of her.

What have I done?  How could you ever want to take me back God! She thought. 

Lo could no longer find any reason to fight the perfect message that she heard, the tenderly sacrificial message of salvation she had tried to block out for so long, and it felt as though all of the idols she had built up her in her hardened heart were being bulldozed down by an inescapable love she couldn’t dare running from any longer.

Suddenly, to her left she noticed there was a pile of nets that sat alone by one of the boating docks, resembling the same nets that appeared in her dream. Without another thought, she began walking towards the nets, and in picking them up, planted herself at the edge of the dock and started trying to untangle them. Maybe I can fix this one mess, she thought to herself, but the more she tried to weave the knots out, the more her hands became bound in between the rope. 

“This can’t be happening,” Lo murmured anxiously, realizing the crisis of her dream was becoming a reality. “I can’t do anything right!” At this point, her hands were so tied up that they were losing circulation, and with no gentleness at all, she yanked and yanked until she had, in an attempt to get free, accidentally pushed herself off the dock and into the ocean. 

Panic flooded Lo’s body as she began to sink. She could not swim. This was it, she thought. She would drown in the place she had most prized, sunken and forgotten, and no one would ever know what happened to her. Deeper and deeper she sank, she scrambled to free herself underwater as light was lost more and more by each exiting bubble. It was here, beneath the ruthless waves, that her life began to flash before her eyes. God was all she ever needed. It was here, she surrendered. 

Jesus, Lo cried out with the little breath she had left, please forgive me, I need you, save me! 

Suddenly, the exact moment streaks of light broke through the dark, cold waters, enveloping around her completely, someone, a man it seemed, had dived in after her and was swimming in Lo’s direction. 

***

One Month Later :

There is a particular time on Catalina island when the horizon melts away effortlessly and sky and sea become one, when the violet evening waters sway with the sherbert colors of the sunset, and when all the little blinking lights from distant ships sparkle like polished blue pearls.

Jude and Lo had made it a habit to travel down to the shore and make a place on the sand to watch this masterpiece unravel. As they gazed out, the quiet crashing of waves filled their silence, until Lo broke it.

“Remember that day I almost died?” she asked. 

“The day you almost drowned with those terrible nets wrapping around you like octopus tentacles ?” Jude replied, “How could I forget?”

“Well, why did you decide to go in after me?” 

Jude looked at her for a moment, and then back out at the vibrant dusk view. 

“After you ran out of the church that day, I stopped myself from catching up with you. I really wanted to, but I went to sit down at the bench beside the chapel, you know, the one where the spring garden is. I knew that God was up to something. It was there, I felt the Spirit tell me to go towards the water.” 

“It all makes sense,” Lo whispered with tears in her eyes, “After my dream, and the light that I saw, and His voice, and…”

Jude stopped her. “You heard from Him?” 

They were both silent for a while. 

“I realized that He said the other half of my name, well my new name now…”

“The other half?” Jude paused her, “I always did want to ask you if your name was short for something?”

“My mother,” Lo said, “She died in childbirth. She took her last breath while saying the first portion of my name. That’s all they heard her say supposedly. So it’s always just been Lo. But one evening, I heard God speak to me in the room I have been borrowing from Beatrice and it was the strangest name I had ever heard. Ruhamah. I convinced myself to think Beatrice was speaking in another language with one of her weird friends, so I just brushed it off. But I did a little digging, and before I almost drowned, found out that it means “Mercy” in Hebrew. Underwater, I heard it again, this time crystal clear. That time, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that God was calling me out of the depths with the name I was meant to carry all along.”

At this time, an ethereal sound emerged from the distance — haunting moans of whales floating towards the airy shore mirrored the gentle cry of a Father looking for their lost children, a holy redemptive blow echoing clear across the surface of the sea as a valiant trumpet call home. 

“Well, Ruhamah,” Jude smiled while taking her by the hand, “Are you ready to go home now?” 

“Yes,” she said, prepared to reconcile with her earthly father, “But in my heart, I already am.”