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It amazes me that she came to mind after some 50 years. She lived far back across the fields, alone with not a care. She was laughed at and talked about; some were afraid of her. No one was ever harmed by her, and everyone stayed out of her way. Even when they avoided her, it was difficult to escape the sound of her voice. Up close or across the fields, we heard her so clearly and sincerely crying, “Holy!” She was not sociable, and perhaps even a bit eccentric. Though religious, she was not a Mother Teresa. I do not remember a smile she gave to anybody for any reason. Was she out of her mind as some suggested? Was she a voice crying in the wilderness? Was she on a divine assignment from God? Was she a saint or holy person? I most assuredly did not know then, and I am presently content to let God be the judge of that. But she had no doubt about her God being Holy, because, with unrelenting commitment, she cried, “Holy!” It’s clear to me that God had become the center of her every affection. Indeed, she deemed it her mission to proclaim the Holiness of God to a needy people. So without refrain, fear, or hesitation, she simply continued to shout, “Holy!” She was unconventional, unsophisticated, unconcerned, and unlike anyone I have ever known. She cared not what people said, thought, or felt about her. She was fearless, and nothing mattered except her mission. She was called 'the sanctified lady’; but time after time, come rain or come shine, she paid us no mind, and she never ceased or declined. She just cried, “Holy!” I never knew whatever became of her, but she was a small framed lady with a strong and deep sounding voice. It’s the cry of her voice that brings my eyes to tears. Without apology or regard for public opinion, from her home deep across the corn and cotton fields, we often heard her crying, “Holy!” I don’t recall anything else she ever said or did. But I will say that if she was on a divine assignment, God must have been pleased with her. I suspect that it was a lonely and often cruel assignment, causing much pain and ridicule. But she bore the pain; she had nothing to gain; her message was clear and plain; she refused to refrain. She certainly was not popular, and I don’t remember a friend she ever had. But ever true to her task, from the depths of her soul, she cried, “Holy!” 09122015Contest, Quirky Things That Confound And Confuse Me, Caren Krutsinger;71418Placement#3

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She Cried Holy

It amazes me that she came to mind after some 50 years. She lived far back across the fields, alone with not a care. She was laughed at and talked about; some were afraid of her. No one was ever harmed by her, and everyone stayed out of her way. Even when they avoided her, it was difficult to escape the sound of her voice. Up close or across the fields, we heard her so clearly and sincerely crying, “Holy!” She was not sociable, and perhaps even a bit eccentric. Though religious, she was not a Mother Teresa. I do not remember a smile she gave to anybody for any reason. Was she out of her mind as some suggested? Was she a voice crying in the wilderness? Was she on a divine assignment from God? Was she a saint or holy person? I most assuredly did not know then, and I am presently content to let God be the judge of that. But she had no doubt about her God being Holy, because, with unrelenting commitment, she cried, “Holy!” It’s clear to me that God had become the center of her every affection. Indeed, she deemed it her mission to proclaim the Holiness of God to a needy people. So without refrain, fear, or hesitation, she simply continued to shout, “Holy!” She was unconventional, unsophisticated, unconcerned, and unlike anyone I have ever known. She cared not what people said, thought, or felt about her. She was fearless, and nothing mattered except her mission. She was called 'the sanctified lady’; but time after time, come rain or come shine, she paid us no mind, and she never ceased or declined. She just cried, “Holy!” I never knew whatever became of her, but she was a small framed lady with a strong and deep sounding voice. It’s the cry of her voice that brings my eyes to tears. Without apology or regard for public opinion, from her home deep across the corn and cotton fields, we often heard her crying, “Holy!” I don’t recall anything else she ever said or did. But I will say that if she was on a divine assignment, God must have been pleased with her. I suspect that it was a lonely and often cruel assignment, causing much pain and ridicule. But she bore the pain; she had nothing to gain; her message was clear and plain; she refused to refrain. She certainly was not popular, and I don’t remember a friend she ever had. But ever true to her task, from the depths of her soul, she cried, “Holy!” 09122015Contest, Quirky Things That Confound And Confuse Me, Caren Krutsinger;71418Placement#3