COME BEFORE WINTER – Chapter Twenty – a Lifetime
December 20th, 2021
2 Timothy 4:21, “Do your utmost to come before winter.”
CHAPTER TWENTY – a Lifetime
Gwen found Mercy waiting for her outside the hostel on a cold concrete step when she arrived. It was nearly pitch black except for a tiny spray of light pouring through filthy glass. The dim yellow glare landed on what little snow remained in the shadows from the previous storm. Everyone was getting anxious for what they referred to as ‘real snow’ since the holidays were fast approaching. People everywhere were dreaming of a White Christmas and complaining that the coming Thanksgiving wouldn’t feel right with no snow on the ground. Mercy didn’t know how to respond when comments like this reached her at the shoppe. Where she was from, a trace of snow was a travesty, and the town shut down for days if it left more than an inch or two. Apparently this sixty-and-seventy-degree weather in November wasn’t natural, but it’s all Mercy knew. After that first early snow, there had been a lot of cold but not much moisture and the locals were feeling slighted and tricked, and well, disgruntled.
The girl raised herself to standing as Gwen’s car approached, brushing her slacks off. Nerves stayed with her as she lowered herself onto the front seat. What could Gwen possibly need her to see at Continuum? Had she dressed appropriately?
‘Why, mercy me, don’t you look lovely?’ Gwen chortled, feeling clever, not knowing she had just put to rest one of the girl’s worries. ‘You didn’t need to dress up, dear, but how nice that you did.’ Gwen smiled warmly.
‘I wasn’t sure what to expect after you called,’ Mercy admitted honestly. ‘Better to be safe than sorry, right?’ They settled into a comfortable conversation which covered the distance until they arrived at the enormous facility that spanned several city blocks. Mercy was still in awe at its size, and once again felt acutely the discouragement she felt when she encountered Continuum instead of her childhood home a month or so earlier. She hoped she could keep her disappointment safely buried; there was no room for it here.
‘Shall we go in, dear,’ Gwen asked as she tidily parked in a ‘Reserved’ parking spot and snapped a ‘Reserved’ placard on the mirror. Mercy nodded and reached for her door handle. She stopped quickly from opening the door when Gwen tugged on her sleeve. ‘I have someone I wish you to meet, but first I thought you might like to see a little of Continuum’s history.’ Her eyes sparkled and there was no way Mercy would ever want her to be disappointed, so she pasted on some false enthusiasm, nodding vigorously. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she stated certainly. ‘I’m ready. Thank you so much.’ She whispered, although she really wasn’t sure what for.
~ ~ ~
Mercy would think back on that night maybe forever. She certainly did in the weeks that followed. She tried not to, but in truth she couldn’t help herself as she tried to figure out how she could have handled things differently. Perhaps if only she had in the beginning not answered Gwen’s call. If only she had been busy, hadn’t been able to go with Gwen. Maybe if only she had never gone there to the address given her by Human Services or maybe, if only, she hadn’t been so weak, she collapsed on the city sidewalk in total frustration and discouragement. If only she’d never come to Colorado…that was it, the real answer, if she’d never come at all. But then, that led her to, if only the letter had never come from her father begging her to come before winter—come quickly but do your best to come before winter—a constant echo in her head—if only that had never been.
She’d try to avoid the scene she caused, but it would always be there regardless. Gwen had led her into the foyer, and as soon as Mercy saw the pictures on the wall, she’d known. A floodgate opened and she was engulfed in a barrage of memories that sucked her in and held her in the undertow of a blocked childhood. A wall of history meets her: a collage of black-and-white photos of the shack she grew up in, as well as others on the same street; a grainy photograph of her dad and mom; her papaw holding an infant baby girl; the poor, the outcast, the misfits and their rundown shanties. There is Mercy, wrapped in the arms of who she assumes is her mother. All of it hurts her stomach, but nothing like the articles framed in the center of the photo-op. Mercy recalls speed-reading, but knows she didn’t really need to, after all. At once she remembered everything.
She wanted to cry or maybe scream. No, she wished she could take off running and never look back. Ever. If only she had never come; she still feels that way today. The memory is blurry, but she barely recalls Gwen taking her by the arm and dragging her down a hallway, to a room, a private room. ‘I want you to meet someone;’ Mercy remembers that she couldn’t ascertain the tone in Gwen’s voice. She didn’t really like how she felt forced, like a lamb to a slaughter. As they reached the doorway to a personal residence, Mercy squirms, tries to get free from Gwen’s grip, but as soon as she sees the woman inside, she becomes powerless to even move. There, like a child waiting for a party to begin or an adventure to take place, clapping small hands in anticipation and delight is a mirror-image of herself, years older, years younger. The woman squeals, ‘You came! You came! You promised and I knew you’d come, and you did! You came!’ She claps her hands with glee, stands abruptly and runs to Mercy and kisses her face before Mercy can even step back. A cry escapes Gwen’s lips, and so shocked is Mercy, she frees herself and bolts toward the door, refusing to turn around no matter how insistently Gwen is calling her name., ‘Mercy! Mercy! Stop! Come back! Mercy!’
Psalm 68:5-6a, “A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, He leads out the prisoner with singing.”
To Be Continued…
