Come Before Winter – Chapter Thirty-One – Never Too Late
December 31st, 2021
2 Timothy 4:21, “Do your utmost to come before winter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – Never Too Late
Mercy fought the panic rising in her chest, and what seemed like long moments really was only seconds. What a shock when she whirled around and there stood Patsy, along with Michael and all the children, including foster kids. ‘O my goodness!’ Mercy exclaimed. ‘You came!’ She could hardly believe her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
Patsy tossed her arms around her and pulled her close. ‘Really, girl? We wouldn’t miss it for the world. We should have been here sooner when you first needed us. If I’d only known…’ A plethora of emotions passed between the two women. No need for details; Patsy had a pretty good idea what she didn’t wish to really know about. The haunted expression in her girl’s eyes spoke volumes.
Instead, ‘Introduce us, lovely. We have been so anxious to meet your father. I guess we will have to wait ‘til heaven to meet your papaw, huh, Mercy?’ Tears clouded her eyes, filled them with memories and hope unrealized. Just then, Mercy’s dad made his way to stand beside her, and casually, he glanced at the folk standing nearby. ‘Oh wow!’ He exclaimed as his eyes widened. ‘Mercy! Are these your friends? You came! To be here with us!’
Patsy smiled brilliantly. ‘Uh, no sir, we came here to be with our girl; to support Mercy. Hi, I’m Patsy; this is Michael, and this is our variety of Littles.’
Mercy blushed on behalf of her dad, taking on his embarrassment like stepping into his waders on a fishing excursion. ‘They came to respect Papaw; we all did. Thank you for coming,’ Mercy whispered, ’It means more than words can say.’
Michael wrapped an arm around Mercy, and just as he did, Gwen sauntered up with the childlike woman nearly identical to Mercy in tow. Gwen air-kissed the space around Mercy. ‘Darling?’ Suddenly, Grace clapped her mittened hands, chanting, ‘Chaplain Day! Chaplain Day!’ It hurt for Mercy to swallow, the ache of tears burning the back of her throat and adding to her discomfort. It was time to get comfortable though, and acknowledge, instead of ignore, the warp she was caught in.
‘Mom! It’s Mercy. It’s good to see you tonight. You look so pretty.’ Her words sounded stripped; awkward to talk to her as a child yet call her mom. Out of the corner of her eye, Mercy glanced at Patsy, an eyebrow caught in an eternal arch, skeptical and curious. Just as Mercy mouthed at her, ‘Yup. I’ll tell you soon,’ Mercy’s dad said, ‘I think there is room for us all; shall we?’ as he shepherded the small flock into the sanctuary.
Mercy wasn’t certain how she would find herself here, now, at this podium, her words caught in her throat and her hands clutched around a faded piece of paper. The church had been filled to overflowing, the music worshipful, those paying tribute intentional and transparent. The Memorial was special, beautiful, so many people spilling out of the pews and bursting the seams of a majestic sanctuary. She had no idea her grampa was so well known, even beloved. Her dad had been surrounded by a crowd of many who seemed to truly love him. There wasn’t filthy air here, not a bitter taste on anyone’s tongue, it seemed. She was proud to stand here, to represent this family, to honor her papaw.
Mercy cleared her throat, gazing down from a place above a multitude of people. She’s never stood before a person in her life. Her position, lofty but so humble and honest, so honored that she could be here at this moment, for this time. She hadn’t a clue what she might say before now, but suddenly it seemed clear. She waved the letter, now wrinkled and threadbare.
‘Hi, my name is Mercy, and I am the privileged granddaughter of a righteous man. Thomas Day was a peculiar and private person, I am learning, and I missed much of his life unfortunately, but I also learned he had a penchant for…well, for me. It is my belief that he clung to life for months now, waiting for me, for an opportunity to right a wrong.
‘When my dad finally found me, he told me my grampa didn’t have long to live, but it was his belief that Papaw was holding out to reconcile my childhood. I am saddened to say I believe so as well, because upon his declaration of sorrow for all our lost years, and his love for me, my grampa passed peacefully into the arms of His Savior. “Do your best, Mercy, to come before winter,” my dad wrote, and you know, even the weather held out.
‘I am learning that we have such a good Father Who He cares about even the small things the world might overlook. See, I even got to meet Jesus through all of this, to ask Him into my heart, and start over with a slate that is wiped clean, like my dad and my papaw were long ago able to be set free while locked up in prison, in a prison cell, I might add. That’s what my dad did for me, gave me an opportunity to start over, to forgive, to come in time for winter so the new world could be washed clean, white as snow. I’m glad you waited, Papaw, waited for me, your Mercy-girl, to finally find you.’ Mercy swiped at the stream of tears steadily coursing down her cheeks and turned to face the people in front of her once more. ‘I’ll miss him, but I’ll see him again someday. Until then, I will follow in his, and His, footsteps. I hope you will always remember Jesus never comes early or late, but He always comes right on time. Thank you. God bless you.’
Just as Mercy stepped down from the podium to walk toward her family, Gwen stood abruptly. ‘Yoohoo! Darling! I want this Jesus too in my life, like all of you. What do I got to do to make that happen?’ Mercy grinned, and motioned her forward, just as Grace, Mercy’s mom, hopped up also, exclaiming ‘Me too! Me too! Gracie wants Jesus too!’
For the rest of her life, Mercy would look back on a truly blessed holy season and her spiritual birthday, she knew she’d never forget. She’d marvel at how many people were freed from chains binding them, just like she had, and how the Lord brought it all together perfectly, like missing pieces to the puzzle of her. But most of all, it would never be forgotten how they opened the doors of the church to step outside to a flurry of snowflakes falling on a pathway of newly fallen snow. She’d certainly made it, made it just in time, before winter, and the Lord had worked all things together for their good and His glory, and in His perfect timing.
Romans 8:27-30, ‘He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. God knew what he was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the outset to shape the lives of those who love him along the same lines as the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity he restored. We see the original and intended shape of our lives there in him. After God made that decision of what his children should be like, he followed it up by calling people by name. After he called them by name, he set them on a solid basis with himself. And then, after getting them established, he stayed with them to the end, gloriously completing what he had begun.’ (MSG)
~The End~
