Come Before Winter – Chapter Twenty-Seven – Puzzle Pieces
December 27th, 2021
2 Timothy 4:21, “Do your utmost to come before winter.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN – Puzzle Pieces
Bells rang and the pipes from an antique organ creaked as the notes wheezed, filling the sanctuary with meaning. Mercy almost fell over from the surprise of watching a throng of people wash forward, some crying, a few jubilant, many on their knees, kneeling at the altar, others surrounded by leaders with hands laid on shoulders and heads, engulfed in hugs; all with tears streaming steadily, freely. Mercy had believed she’d be the only one on the day she gave her life to Jesus, and that she would likely be alone, not that she would be one of many giving up the reins; the camaraderie was comforting. She couldn’t wait to call Patsy.
Suddenly, the service was over, and everywhere the front of the church was dotted with people hugging and encouraging one another, commiserating, commemorating, listening, talking, laughing. Christmas hymns belted from the organ stacks and candles flickered in the movement of air. Mercy waited patiently for her father to finish counseling all those who surrounded him. She had so much she wanted to ask. Maybe there would be time now before they had to leave. Her eyes wandered to her grampa who had slumped forward in his chair. The canula feeding oxygen to him had slipped from his nostrils and she made her way toward him and gently pushed it into place. It seemed as if he was sleeping, and tears stung her eyes. She had made it in time, before winter.
‘Papaw,’ she whispered, and at the sound of her voice he startled, then stirred. Through heavy eyelids, he peeked at her, and a slow smile spread across his face. ‘My Mercy-girl,’ weakly, he patted her hand, and tired delight filled the gaunt places on his face. Again, his eyes closed, but his breathing was peaceful. Suddenly, his eyes popped open, and he shook his head sadly. ‘I’m so sorry, Mercy-girl.’ Talking wore him out greatly, but he was tugging at her fingers as if what he had to say couldn’t wait. ‘I’m so sorry I left you. You were always my girl.’ He attempted deep breaths, steady and slow. ‘Thank you for coming so I could tell you myself how very much I have always loved you.’ Her papaw was breathless by the time he finished speaking and his chin nodded forward to touch his chest again. She caressed the back of his hand in her own, praying for more time.
Her eyes roved to the pews and beyond, and at once, a sick feeling moved through her stomach. Gwen was striding her way toward the front of the stage, trailing a short distance behind was the woman-child who was her mother. Mercy’s eyes darted from her grampa to her dad to Gwen and then her mom. She hadn’t a clue the dynamics about to erupt and what fireworks might be set off. She let go of her grampas’s hand, moving toward her dad as if she could warn him or form a barrier to fill the gap.
Before she could get close enough, the child who was her mother broke free of Gwen’s grasp, running right at Mercy’s dad. The folk who were gathered around him moved aside, and Grace Jones fell at his feet. ‘Chaplain Day! Chaplain Day! You came! You promised you’d come! It’s me! Gracie! I couldn’t wait to see you again.’
Every nerve rose to the occasion in Mercy. Tears clogged her vision. Her parents. Together. How long had that been?! She looked at the surprise register on her father’s face and searched immediately for Gwen who appeared as if she were on a mission. A visual about the rage Mercy imagined Gwen might feel toward her dad and grampa jogged through her mind, and the images were not pleasant. In a split second, Mercy rushed to her mom putting herself between her parents, the oddest sensation spreading through her limbs. Her mom clapped her mittened hands in glee, throwing her arms around Mercy. ‘You came too!’ she exclaimed. ‘You promised and you came too! I waited and I waited some more and here you both are! I prayed!’ Joyfully, she patted her face in pure, childlike delight. Mercy’s dad nodded gratefully toward Mercy, and when she turned to see Gwen’s reaction, she noticed a slight smile toy with the woman’s lips. She shrugged her shoulders, gesturing her acceptance and appreciation.
Once she reached the small crowd that remained, she hugged Mercy and placed an arm around her sister. Stiffly, she bowed as she turned, ‘Chaplain Day, Merry Christmas.’
‘Gwen,’ he acknowledged, then winked at Mercy. ‘Looks like you brought us altogether this year, Mercy.’ He spoke proudly and she beamed, a tremendous sigh escaping her lips.
To that, everyone giggled nervously, and Gwen asked, ‘Mercy, is your dad taking you back to your place or are you riding with me? I need to return Gracie soon.’ Her eyes darted from one person to the next, and Mercy shrugged, ‘Um, I don’t know. Dad?’
‘Where do you live? Where’s your house?’ her dad asked, then added, ‘Not that it matters; of course, I’ll drive you wherever you need to go, to the moon even LOL. Just curious.’
A hush spread and Mercy’s cheeks lit up like a shiny penny. ‘Um,’ she murmured. ‘Uh. To be truthful, I don’t have a home. I live on the streets. In a doorway. I’m homeless currently. Until I get back…’
Gwen interrupted. ‘What?!’ she screeched. ‘Did I just hear you correctly? You’re living on the streets?!’ Mercy gave a slight nod, humiliated but grateful to no longer be in hiding. ‘Oh my god! Is that why you carry that bag everywhere with you?!’ Gwen snapped.
Mercy’s dad chuckled, then remarked, ‘Well, this is the place where you find Him.’ Gwen launched a look that could eat him alive, and John smiled in return, ‘Well, it’s true. And it’s also true that you won’t be homeless or ‘on the streets anymore’, young lady. You are coming home with us.’
Psalm 139:23-24, ‘Investigate my life, O God, find out everything about me; cross-examine and test me, get a clear picture of what I’m about; see for Yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong—then guide me on the road to eternal life.’ (MSG)
To Be Continued…
