3 Little Pigs

Some days, I am meek, soft, and still—quiet and observant. On other days, I form emotional attachments, detached from logic. I speak zealous words and share knowledge of Him whom I follow. I have faith that could blow the hairs off any man's head, a fire in my heart that no trial can extinguish. My charisma terrifies those whose legs are not sturdy enough to withstand my strong character and wit. With dreams and longings that are ancient and lost, my words have dismantled the houses of men whose foundations could not uphold my passion and dogma. They were not equipped to survive seasons of despair, freezing winters, and the breath of God. All that remains are broken ceilings and crumbling walls, gazing lustfully at my outward appearance, puffed up in their masculinity.

I walked up to the house of the first little pig.

I made him laugh—an uproar of childlike laughter that blew his house of straw to the ground.

I skipped to the second little pig's home. He welcomed me, holding his tzitzit. I looked over at his religious statues and Scriptures; his theology was impeccable, yet he did not even offer me a cup of water. He boastfully spoke of what he knew about the law, and I eagerly shared what God has done in my life. His house of sticks was blown away, leaving only his statues behind.

Discouraged, I slumped forward to the third little pig's house. Parched and disheartened, I was greeted with a cup of much-needed Living Water. He was kind and listened—unlike the others. I soaked up the overwhelming peace that filled his home, and I felt safe, for it was built on The Rock.

I blew their houses down, except for one.

#creativewriting #writer #childrensbook #Christianwriter #HouseonaRock #shortstories #illustration #photography

Illustrator: haythoom

Graphic Designer: Hal Hansen

Photographer: Angel Colón