A CROWN UPON HER HEAD

A CROWN UPON HER HEAD

…in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing. 2 Timothy 4:8 (NASB)

“…there is one crown in heaven which the angel Gabriel could not wear, it will fit no head but mine.” Charles H. Spurgeon

A shadowed figure hurried through the darkness as rain poured relentlessly on the sleeping village. Thunder rumbled overhead as the figure hurried through the muddy streets until this stealthy one came to a plain stone house as cold in appearance as the storm clad night. Climbing the steps the shrouded figure stopped and laid a bundle at the door. Lightning flashed and for a moment the figure hesitated but then darted away, disappearing into the darkness leaving the bundle behind in the rain.

A cold north wind swept down from the surrounding mountains, whipping through a meadow that lay at the edge of the wood. A few brave wildflowers remained from the Indian summer and they ducked and swayed but to no avail. The bitter wind tore the blooms away leaving the stems empty as it continued on toward the stone house where two maple trees stood like towering sentries on either side of the stone steps. Their trunks gnarled with age, their branches like great arms spread over the porch as though trying to give shelter to the bundle so carelessly abandoned there. The wind swirled about the trunks and then climbed into the leafy boughs sending a swirling cascade of fall colors to the ground below. The wind lifted its mournful cry as it picked up the rain and sent it reeling in riotous circles, causing it to pound against the stone house as though trying to wake the inhabitants.

The bundle lay exposed as rivulets ran down its sides and the wind tore at the fabric until a corner came loose and fell to one side. At that moment the bundle began to move and a tiny arm reached out from beneath the now drenched covering, waving frantically in the cold. Thunder erupted like canon fire, followed immediately by jagged bolts of lightning across the sky and a baby’s cry rose up from its rain soaked bed, the wind seeming to press the infant’s cries against the massive door creating a haunting sound that traveled through the heavy door, into the ornate foyer, past the front parlor and up the grand stairway.

The stairway was wide and covered with a thick carpet. The carved mahogany banister added grace to the curving stairway that wound its way to the second floor. At the top of the stairs was a large sitting room, with a vast stone fireplace where embers still glowed from a fire all but gone out. A sofa with walnut trim and claw feet stood next to a Queen Ann chair with a soft floral print that added softness to the well appointed room. To the left of the chair stood closed double doors in a rich cream color. A wide hallway lay at the opposite end of the room where a vintage wooden desk and chair sat beneath an octagonal shaped window and next to that a second stairway to the third floor.

It was a narrow stairway made of stone. It lacked any soft carpet to cushion the climb and on arriving at the top one was met by a large windowless room with well-worn furnishings. A smaller version of the stone fireplace on the second floor took up one wall, with a floor to ceiling mahogany bookcase on the opposite wall. Next to the bookcase a series of pegs were attached to the wall from which hung jackets and caps, with boots of varying sizes lined up neatly on the floor below them. The room led to a hallway with three doors on one side and two on the other. They stood in closed silence. At the opposite end of the room was an alcove framed in walnut. Stepping into the alcove one found another octagonal window and to the right of that light shone softly from beneath a single walnut door.

The room on the other side of the door was simple but cheerful. A fire burned in a small stone fireplace opposite a four-poster bed. An overstuffed chair sat in the corner, with a woolen throw draped over one arm. Pictures of loved ones from an age gone by were tucked on the mantelpiece. A simple, yet lovely Victorian table stood next to the bed where an oil lamp burned, giving light to the cozy room. On the bed against pillows housed in cases edged with vintage lace a woman sat reading. She wore a nightcap on her head from which grey hair had escaped unnoticed, and small round glasses sat at the end of her nose as she read.

Grandma Grace, or GG as the children called her, paused from her reading, tilting her head to one side to listen. The sound of the storm was deafening as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stuffed her feet into her slippers and quickly pulled on her robe before stopping at the window to peer out into the night. The wind cried mournfully as the rain beat against the window, but there was something else—another cry all but swallowed by the storm.

GG picked up the oil lamp from the bedside table and hurried into the dark alcove toward the stairs. As she reached the grand staircase that wound down toward the first floor she heard the cry more clearly. She quickened her pace, her heart beating frantically in her chest with an urgency to reach the front door. She knew as she reached the bottom stair that she had taken too long.  A chill reached her, sending a shiver through her body. She hurried along the corridor, pausing for a moment as movement in the parlor caught her eye. The floor length curtains that hung from the large windows stirred, filling her with dread. She was too late.

The lamplight caused long shadows to creep along the hallway as she made her way toward the main entrance. She rounded the corner and came to a stop as what she had feared came into view.   A woman stood in the doorway; her back turned toward GG, giving her time to think before she spoke.  “What is it, Ms Lila?”  She asked in the calmest voice she could summon. Hearing her name the woman slowly turned, her nightdress billowed as a strong gust of wind pushed its way into the large entry, causing the flame to flicker wildly in the oil lamp GG held. She tried not to let the other woman see that her hand was shaking.

“Someone has left their garbage on the porch. I’ll take care of it. You go back to bed Grace.”

The baby’s cry had turned hoarse and Grace took a sideways step in an effort to see the little one crying for help with what little strength was left.

“Why don’t you let me take care of it, Ms Lila? After all you’ve been just that ill and getting yourself a good soaking won’t do you any good at all.”

Lila had already turned away, bending to pick up the squalling infant.

GG took a few steps forward but Lila heard her and spun around, holding the baby by one arm in her claw like grasp. The words she spoke dripping with contempt.

“I’m taking this trash down to the river and will let the current do its work. Go back to bed and leave me to it.”

GG’s mind raced as she followed Lila and the screaming baby girl into the storm.

“Well now, just look at those long fingers. I’ve never seen such long fingers on a newborn. I bet she could be the finest seamstress Stone Valley has ever seen.  She’s small, it’s true, but it takes small hands to sew fine stitches—the kind that will make you the envy of all. You could hire her out and turn a nice profit.”

Lila stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes as she considered GG’s words. Lila was already shivering and they weren’t even half way to the riverbank. With hard eyes and an even harder heart she looked down as though examining the child’s hands and then still holding the babe by one arm thrust her toward GG.

“Go on then. Take it. I expect not to have to lay eyes on it again until it is made useful. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” GG replied as waves of relief washed over her. She tucked the wee baby inside of her robe and followed Lila up the stone steps and into the stone house and closed the door.

A short time later GG stood in the kitchen heating milk as she held the freshly bathed infant in the crook of her arm. She hummed softly as she poured the milk into a baby bottle she’d managed to find in a trunk that belonged to her mother, which she kept hidden beneath her bed. She tested the temperature against her wrist and satisfied it was just right she headed to her room tucked on the third floor of Stone House.

She climbed the stairs thinking about this old house more than a century old. Stone House was touted as an orphanage of sorts. But truth-be-told it was more of a work farm for unwanted children. Ms. Lila’s great granddaddy had started it all when he found an abandoned toddler on the porch. He and his wife took the child in and loved him like their very own. Times were hard and it didn’t take long for the word to spread that old man Stone and his wife were taking in the unwanted. And so the family at Stone House grew.

Ms. Lila Stone was nothing like her family. She wasn’t interested in taking in abandoned children to love. No, she was only interested in how much money they could bring to Stone House. Struggling families made backroom deals with Ms. Lila and she bought the strongest or most gifted, relieving stretched families from a mouth to feed in the process.

Ms. Lila never took in babies. They were of no use, she would say. A few times babies did appear at Stone House, but disappeared without a trace just as quickly. There was talk that the river, which was called the river of death, was the final resting place for a number of infants who had the misfortune of being left on the steps of Stone House.  Likewise children who didn’t produce or turn a profit vanished though where they went no one seemed to know.

Stone House was full of dark secrets. GG’s mother, grandmother and great grandmother had all worked at Stone House. She did her best to provide an atmosphere of safety and love for the children who found themselves abandoned to life within these walls. As long as she had breath she would tell them about the One to whom she belonged. He was the sustainer of her soul and she found joy that had nothing to do with life at Stone House.

GG closed the door of her room, and carried the baby to the large overstuffed chair in the corner by the fireplace. She sat down and studied the little one she held in her arms as she worked to help her drink from the bottle. She had auburn curly hair that framed her small face. Her eyes were brightest blue. Everything about her was delicate. As she held her, something stirred within her heart, a deep love and a desire to protect this tiny life. A suckling sound caught her attention and she couldn’t help but smile as the baby began to eat, and then the tiny infant reached up and wrapped her small fingers around GG’s little finger and right around her heart.

“Oh precious girl,” she whispered, “I hope you grow strong and have something of worth to bring to Ms. Lila. You’ve got to work hard and earn your keep. Else, well…” She wiped a tear from her cheek and then whispered, “I hope you don’t die here. And I hope…” Her voice trailed off and she grew quiet in the soft glow of the fire as she studied the frail form that lay in her arms. “Hope,” she repeated. “That’s a fine name. Hope.”  GG sang tender songs of comfort and held Hope all night as she figured that baby needed lots of hugging and holding to make up for such a rough start. Then, settling deeper into the chair, she told Hope about the King who was good and loving and very powerful. She talked far into the night about the King and his Son. Stories about the King were forbidden at Stone House, but GG suddenly felt they needed telling to this small life sleeping against her. Sometime in the predawn hours, sleep came, carrying dreams of the future—a future filled with Hope.

Six years later…

“Yes. Tell us about the King,” the children said in whispered unison. Their faces were clean, their hair freshly combed and they sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, their eyes aglow with anticipation as GG leaned forward in her chair, her own eyes shone with a light not of her own making.

“Well,” she began, “the King lives on the grandest estate you ever did see. The trees are covered with sweet fruit, and when the King walks by the trees clap their hands for joy.” The children giggled softly at the thought of clapping trees. GG continued telling them about the King. How his voice commanded the seas and his laughter sounded like waterfalls. He was good. He was just. He was gentle. He was love.

“One day,” she continued…at that very moment Ms. Lila appeared in the parlor. She stood threateningly, her eyes narrowed, her lips curled back from her teeth as she hissed, “Get to bed this instant!” When no one moved, she pointed a boney finger in the direction of the staircase and screeched, “NOW!” The children scurried up the stairs. Lila stood with her head cocked to one side listening, and grunted in satisfaction when she heard the muffled sound of doors closing on the third floor. Ms. Lila turned an icy stare in GG’s direction, before turning on her heel with her nose in the air and headed in the direction of her room, her nightdress flowing behind her.

GG let out a breath of relief as the curtains rustled and a girl of six-years with large blue eyes and long auburn curls came out from her hiding place.

“Is she gone?” she asked; her eyes wide with fear.

“Yes, Hope. She’s gone,” GG replied with a reassuring smile. “Off to bed with you now,” she said, bending down to kiss the top of the small girl’s head and gently pointing her in the direction of the stairs. Hope looked up into GG’s eyes as she said, “Oh please tell me a little more about the King and his Son before I go to sleep.” How could Grandma Grace deny such a request, so she lifted Hope in her arms and as she carried her up the stairs she spoke in whispered tones of the King and His Son.

“The King’s Son has many names.”

“Oh,” Hope said, her eyes fixed on GG’s face as though concentrating extra hard so as not to miss the smallest detail.

“One of His names is Strong Tower.”

Hope’s eyes got very large as she thought about that name. She thought about the many times she had climbed the White Oak tree. She would imagine the branches reached down and lifted her to a place of safety, high above all the troubles of Stone House. Was the Son like that? Was He a place of safety?

 As GG tucked Hope into bed, she kissed her cheek and whispered, “He is also called Ancient of Days.”

Hope nestled deeper under the covers as GG blew out the oil lamp and left the room, pulling the door quietly closed behind her.  Hope fell asleep with a deep longing in her little girl heart—a longing to know the Ancient of Days.

The day was bright and a soft breeze, and green fields, beckoned the children to come and run. It was Sunday and the children had the entire day to fish in the stream or run through the meadow or climb trees. Ms. Lila complained loudly every week, but even she had to admit that the children performed better with a day off, so she relented albeit reluctantly.

The children crossed the meadow, which was dotted with wildflowers and then they ran to the top of the hill and flopped down in the tall grass, sprawled in the sun.

“Whatcha doin’?” William asked, looking down at Hope. William was a tall boy with freckles on his nose and callouses on his hands from long hours spent working in the fields. He sat down next to Hope and studied the fabric she held in her hands.

Hope smiled as she pulled the needle through the backside of the soft material. “I’m practicing my stitches,” she said.

“What for?” Lucy asked.

“I know why,” Charles said with a bit of a jeer in his tone.

“Why?” The others asked in unison.

“She thinks if she is good enough maybe she can be seamstress to the King,” Robert finished with a bow.

Lucy pointed in the distance and said mockingly, “I see it. I see the King’s grand estate.”

“You can’t see the King’s house from here,” Hope said, unbothered by their teasing.

“You don’t really believe all those stories about a King and his Son. Do you?” Charles asked.

“I don’t believe them!” Lucy said with certainty. Then she puckered her brow as she quickly added, “But I do like hearing the stories.”

“I believe it,” William said steadily as the others ran off to play. William put a hand on her shoulder as he said, “Don’t let them bother you. They don’t know any better, Hope.” She smiled at him as he stood and grabbed his fishing pole and headed to the stream leaving Hope to think about the King, his Son and trees that clapped for joy.

A few days later Hope was walking back to Stone House after delivering bed linens she had hemmed for a couple who owned Stone Village Inn. Hope still beamed from the praise they had poured out on her for the fine stitches she had used. At six years of age Hope showed great promise as a seamstress. The coins made a jingling sound inside the coin purse she carried over her shoulder. Ms. Lila had given it to her that very morning, along with a stern warning as to what would happen should she lose the payment on her way home.

Leaving the village road, she crossed the meadow and then decided to walk along the edge of the woods where a brook played over smooth stones and wildflowers of every hue danced and swayed in the spring breeze. She crossed the stone bridge and spied a marsh wren darting in and out of the reeds. She slipped off her shoes and sat down in the tall grass to watch. It was there at the brook’s edge that she met Him for the first time.

“Hullo.”

Hope jumped a bit, not knowing anyone was there. She turned to see an elderly man who must have been at least thirty-years if a day. Not wishing to be rude, she answered, “hullo,” accompanied by a smile. GG taught her to always smile. She said that even storm clouds have to get out of the way of a sunny disposition.

Hope used her arm to shade her eyes so she could see him better. There was nothing particularly captivating in his appearance. He was, well, very ordinary. He appeared to have been working as he had sweat on his brow and dirt on his clothing. He sat down on a fallen log at the brook’s edge and dipped his hands in the water and used them to wipe the sweat from his face. He looked thirsty, so she offered him a drink of water from the canteen GG had given her for the walk to the village. He took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before handing the canteen back to her with a smile and a thank you.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” she said.

“I’ve only just arrived after being gone for quite some time,” He replied.

“Where have you been?”

“I came from my Father’s estate.”

“Why?”

He smiled at her six-year-old straight forwardness as He answered, “My Father sent me.”

Her eyebrows crinkled in the center and she bit her lip as she thought about what He said. This seemed familiar somehow. She rested her chin in her hand and asked, “Who’s your Father?”

“My Father is the King,” He said gently and without any hint of pride.

Hope sat up straight then and turned so she could study Him more closely. “You don’t look like a King’s Son. I didn’t think a King’s Son would have dirt on his hands and clothes.”

His eyes danced as He replied, “Oh I like working with my hands, and sometimes being about my Father’s business requires getting dirty.” 

“Do you have a crown?” Hope inquired.

“Yes, I do.”

“Where is it? Can I see it? I’ve never seen a crown before.”

“It isn’t here. I didn’t bring anything with me. Coming here required leaving everything behind.”

“Even your crown?”

He laughed softly as He nodded and said, “Yes, Hope. Even my crown.”

Hope looked at Him in wonder. GG had told her so much about Him that she felt she knew Him, but it was nothing like sitting here talking with Him herself. But how had He known her name? She was certain she had not told Him, but He had called her Hope. She smiled at the realization that He knew her before she’d even met Him. GG had talked of such things.

“You’d best be heading home,” He said as He took her small hand in His rough calloused one, helping her to her feet.

She reluctantly put her shoes on and then asked if she could come visit Him again and where was He staying so she would know where to find Him.

“You won’t have any trouble finding me, Hope. Those who look for me will always find me.”

She smiled and then realizing she didn’t know His name she shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up into His face. But before she could put words to her question, He said, “I am the Prince of Peace.”  Hope repeated His name as though it was a great treasure and she tucked it into her heart, turned and skipped off into the meadow, disappearing amongst the wildflowers. She could hardly wait to tell GG that she had met the King’s Son. She wondered if GG knew His name was Prince of Peace.

Hope reeled backwards falling and nearly striking her head against the stone fireplace. The blow left a red hand imprint across her cheek and her eyes stung with tears.

“There is to be no talk of the King or of His imaginary Son,” Ms. Lila said.

“B-b-but He’s not imaginary. I met Him. I talked with Him. He drank from my canteen. He knows my name,” she finished as tears escaped down her cheeks.

Ms. Lila struck Hope’s face again. The blow pressed her lip into her teeth causing blood to stream down her chin. Ms. Lila hit her again, the blow landing against the tender skin around her right eye and she could feel blood trickle down her cheek and there was an odd ringing in her ears and the room suddenly seemed to be at an odd angle.

“Get it out of here!” Ms. Lila screeched as GG entered the room.  GG had heard the commotion all the way from the hen house and had hurried to see what was wrong.

GG could see Hope was becoming unsteady on her feet, so quickly lifting her up in her arms she hurried from the room, studying Hope’s small face, which was rapidly swelling and turning ugly shades of purple. Anger burned in GG’s chest and tears stung her eyes as she carried Hope up two flights of stairs. She decided to take Hope to her own room. GG gently laid her on the four-poster bed, before disappearing for a few minutes and returned with a basin of warm water and a towel. Sitting on the edge of the bed, GG proceeded to wash the wounds and soothe the small girl as she stirred and whimpered.

“I did meet Him,” Hope lisped through swollen lips.

“I know,” GG said. She was quiet for a moment as though weighing carefully what she was about to say. “Knowing Him costs everything,” she said so softly that Hope wasn’t sure she had heard her right. GG began to sing a song about the King and His garden where He lived, and how one day those who were His would be there with Him always.

Hope lay still listening to GG’s song. The words were balm to her battered heart and she drifted into an exhausted sleep where she dreamed of walking in the King’s garden. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was the King’s garden, she just knew. There was a fountain coming right up out of the ground and the water seemed alive, and the sound it made was like singing. All around the fountain were beautiful flowers. Their fragrance was such that Hope buried her face in the nearest blooms, their petals soft against her skin. It was then she heard familiar laughter that sounded like many waterfalls. She opened her eyes to find Prince of Peace waiting on the garden path; His arms outstretched as He knelt down and beckoned her come. She ran into His embrace as He said, “Welcome home, little one! Welcome home!”

Pain shot through her face as she slowly opened her eyes. She touched her swollen lips as tears slid down her cheeks. Her heart felt heavy as she realized the singing waterfall, and the King’s beautiful garden had been a dream and she was still at Stone House. She lay back in the darkness and thought about the dream, it had seemed so real and she tucked it away to ponder later.

GG was careful to keep Hope out of Ms. Lila’s path, and after several days Ms. Lila’s anger finally cooled and she summoned Hope to the parlor. Hope entered with her eyes to the floor and stood with her hands folded behind her back.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Ms. Lila spat.

Hope lifted her gaze, her right eye still bruised and swollen.

“I need you to go to the Thomas’s. They have requested your services. Hurry there and straight back.”

Hope was elated at the prospect of visiting the bakery and starting a new sewing project.

GG gave her the coin purse and the canteen of water and a cookie fresh from the oven. GG lifted Hope’s chin so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. They didn’t need to speak; they knew what the other was thinking. They both knew the Son of the King. All the Ms. Lila’s in the world could not change that. GG hugged her tight and sent her out the door and down the stone steps.

Hope took the village road straight to the bakery. She walked in the door, the aroma of fresh baked bread making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.

Mr. Thomas called for his wife when he saw Hope’s bruised face. Anger flashed in his eyes, but he curbed his tongue. Mrs. Thomas brought a cream that felt cool against her bruises. She smiled and thanked them for their kindness. Mrs. Thomas led her to the dining table and gave her a fresh piece of bread and another piece for later. “Now, Hope, that’s just for you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

They longed to keep Hope with them, but they knew that would not be wise, as both Hope and Grace were much needed within the hard walls of Stone House. So they gave her the fabric they needed to have sewn, along with an advance of the fee, and reluctantly sent her on her way.

Hope held the fabric carefully in her arms and started back to Stone House. She turned off the village road and headed toward the meadow and the brook in hope of seeing Prince of Peace. She arrived at the fallen log where they had visited before but He wasn’t there. She waited a moment and then with disappointment in her heart she walked across the bridge and into the meadow toward Stone House. Her mind was filled with troubled questions as she walked.  Hadn’t He said that if she looked for Him she would find Him? Where was He then?

As Hope reached the edge of the meadow and started walking down the hill by way of a path that wound down to the house, something caught her eye. Dust rose from the field where William and some of the other boys were plowing in preparation for planting corn. There were supposed to be eight boys, but she counted nine. Hope couldn’t read, but she had been taught to count since a seamstress must be able to count stitches. Thinking she may have made a mistake, she stood still and counted again. There were definitely nine working in the field. Curious, she headed in their direction carefully shifting the fabric in her arms as she went.

She reached the field, her eyes squinting in the bright sun as she tried to see where the workers were, but they were on the other side of the plow equipment and she wasn’t able to see anything but their feet. She plodded through the field, her feet sinking into the deep furrows of freshly plowed earth. They were in the process of switching out plow horses as the one that had been working was standing off to the side, munching hay, his coat glistening in the sunlight. She began to walk behind him, but remembering William’s cautioning on more than one occasion that she should never walk behind the large animals as they were sometimes easily spooked and may kick her with their huge hooves, she walked around the other direction until the workers came into view.

A smile touched the corners of her mouth and her eyes lit up as she saw Him. The King’s Son was bent down helping the boys to fit the plow to the horse’s harness and He smiled when He saw her hurrying over to greet Him.

Turning her head sideways so she could see Him better, she bent down beside the large animal, “Hullo.”

“Hullo to you,” He said.

She was quiet a moment and He continued working while she put her earlier wonderings into words. “I was looking for you at the brook a while ago but I couldn’t find you there.”

“Oh?”

“Well,” she continued, “it’s just that you said if I looked for you I would find you. But I didn’t find you.”

The harness snapped into place and He stood and walked over to where Hope was standing and knelt down so they were eye to eye.  His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as He said, “Tell me, little one, how is it that we are having this chat if you didn’t find me?” Her eyebrows scrunched together as she thought hard about that. He gently said, “You will find me in the midst of your every day.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage to say, as she looked at Him in wide-eyed wonder.

Prince of Peace brushed the hair from her eyes, His fingers touching the tender place around her eye, where Mrs. Thomas had so kindly applied ointment earlier. Hope wasn’t sure how, but at His touch the hurt went away. She smiled and He smiled back as He stood.

“What’s that you are holding?” He asked.

Hope had forgotten all about the fabric she had been given by the Thomas’s. “The baker and his wife asked me to hem this fabric for a new tablecloth for their dining room. I promised I would have it finished and back to them by tomorrow.”

“The Thomas’s make the best bread in the village and Mr. Thomas can spin quite a tale if you’ve a mind to sit a while and listen.”

“You know them?” Hope asked.

His laughter filled the air and Hope couldn’t help but laugh too. “Yes, I know the Thomas’s. And they know Me,” He said, turning back to the work at hand. “You’d best get started on that table covering if you are to have it for them by tomorrow. It’s important to keep your promises. I’m sure Mrs. Thomas will be pleased. You do nice work, Hope.”  He placed the plow’s straps over His shoulders and around His waist and grabbing hold of the plow handles, He uttered a command and the horse moved forward with Him guiding it along in a straight line. Hope headed back across the field in the direction of the house still beaming from the praise He had given her work.

She waved hello to GG who was heading in the direction of the field with a basket of sandwiches over one arm and a pitcher of cold lemonade in the other. “Hope, don’t you want to come have lunch?” she asked as the small girl skipped by her.

Hope shook her head, as she replied, “No. I need to get started on the tablecloth for the Thomas’s. It’s important to keep your promises, you know.”

“Yes. I suppose it is at that,” GG replied with a broad smile. “I’ll save you a sandwich,” she called as Hope skipped happily on toward Stone House, with the now slightly wrinkled fabric fluttering over one arm as she went.

The next morning GG showed Hope how to press the wrinkles out of fabric with the hot iron. In no time at all, the tablecloth was pressed and ready to be delivered to the bakery. Ms. Lila inspected her work and with a grunt she handed Hope the coin purse, looking down her pointed nose, narrowing her eyes to make clear her unspoken warning. Hope felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she took the coin purse from Ms. Lila’s hand and headed for the entry door.

She set the tablecloth on the buffet table that stood along the wall near the door while she put the strap of the coin purse over her neck, leaving her arms free to carry the newly hemmed and pressed tablecloth to the village.  She stood quietly trying to figure out how best to pick up the tablecloth and open the heavy door and close it again without wrinkling her work. It was then, as she stood contemplating her options that GG arrived with Robert and Charles.

“We’re going with you,” Robert announced and Charles nodded in agreement. Hope gave a pleading look in GG’s direction only to have her nod her head and smile in her ever-patient way. She handed Robert the shopping list, along with some money. “No bickering, boys and take care of Hope,” she directed, showing them her serious face, but her eyes gave away that inside she was laughing and with that she opened the door, placed the tablecloth carefully over Hope’s outstretched arms, and sent the three on their way closing the door behind them.

The boys jumped off the top step to see who could go the furthest and then spent the first ten minutes of the journey arguing about it and punching and shoving each other in a brotherly sort of way along the village road. Hope followed along behind wondering why boys had to behave so strangely. Then as though they suddenly remembered GG’s charge to watch over her, they slowed their pace, allowing her to catch up to them.

“Did you see how that stranger plowed the field yesterday?” Robert asked.

Charles nodded in agreement and added, “He handled that horse by talking to her. Old Mary Bell never plows a straight line, but she sure did for Him. He didn’t yell at her or nothin’.”

“Nothing,” Robert corrected. “I bet He would have had that field plowed and planted in one day if you know who hadn’t come along.”

“Who came along?” Hope asked.

“Who do you think?” Charles asked. “It were Ms. Lila.”

“Was,” Robert corrected again. “Ms. Lila came out to the field to check the progress of the planting and she was mad as a hornet when she saw someone other than William behind the plow. He was with Toby, Eric, Seth, Steven, Andrew, and me and Charles following the plow and dropping seed in the furrows and then covering them. She gave William what for and sent the man away.”

“But why did she do that?” Hope asked, horrified by the treatment of her friend. And then she stopped walking as she stated, “And He’s not a stranger!”

“We don’t know him. So that makes him a stranger,” Robert said.

“I know Him.”

Charles moved in so close that Hope could feel his breath on her face as he pointed a finger in her face and asked, “Oh yeah? If you know him then what’s his name?”

“Prince of Peace,” Hope said.

“Prince of what?” Charles said.

“Prince of Peace. He’s the Son of the King.”

“What?” Both boys said in unison.

“You know. Ancient of Days. The King’s Son,” Hope finished as she wondered silently how it could be possible for them not to know the King or His Son. Weren’t they paying attention when GG told them about the King and His Son?

The boys stood looking at each other and then Charles began laughing. “The King? Oh, that’s right. You are going to be seamstress to the King.” He reached out and grabbed the tablecloth from her arms and unfurled it, wrapping it around his shoulders like a royal robe. He paraded about, the fabric dragging through the dirt behind him. Hope ran after him trying to get the fabric away from him. But he kept darting away and turning this way and that, avoiding her grasp, until his foot came down on the material and it tore. Hope stood in disbelief as Charles let the material fall from his shoulders in a heap in the dust.

Hope knelt on the ground, cradling the ruined fabric in her arms, tears stinging her eyes. She lifted her gaze to Robert’s, pleading without words for his help.

“Charles, what have you done?” Robert asked in disbelief.

Dark clouds that had dotted the horizon only a short time earlier had begun to move in overhead, casting shadows across the valley. The wind stirred through the trees. A storm was coming.

Charles kicked dirt onto the already ruined fabric as he said, “Ms. Lila’s going to put you in the River of Death for sure. You don’t belong here anyhow,” Charles taunted.

“What do you mean?” Hope asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Robert glared at Charles, but Charles paid no attention and kept right on talking.

Charles towered over Hope as he said, “Even if the King and His Son existed, do you really think they would have anything to do with the likes of you? You was meant to die the night you was born. The only reason Ms. Lila didn’t put you in the River that night is because GG told her you would sew and make her lots of money. And now you got nothin’, so you ain’t worth nothin’. You are goin’ to the River of…”

Hope couldn’t bear to hear any more, so she turned and ran, the words ringing in her ears as she went, “You ain’t worth nothin’.  You was meant to die. You are goin’ to the River Death.” Over and over again the words pounded through her thoughts and straight to her heart. She found herself at the brook’s edge and fell face down in the grass, burying her face in the soft blades. She wept the tears of a frightened child. She wasn’t good enough to be friends with the Son of the King. The only place she belonged was the River of Death, like Charles said.

Thunder rumbled overhead and the wind whispered through the leaves.

“Hope.”

Were the leaves whispering her name? Was she dreaming? She raised her head just as Prince of Peace sat down next to her on the grass. Thunder rumbled, reverberating through the woods as He sat quietly waiting for her to speak.

She sat up and pretended to watch the water playing over the pebbles in the brook, but He knew she was avoiding His gaze. He gently turned her face toward Him, her eyes were filled with a great sadness and she still averted her gaze off to the side, not looking into His eyes. She was acutely aware of her inability to make herself “good enough” to even be in His presence, let alone speak with Him as she had before—as a friend. As she sat quietly, she was certain she could hear the roar of the River of Death from just over the hill.

His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you really think you are worth nothing? Do you think I would journey so far, and leave behind my home; my Father, my crown, if you were of no worth to my Father or to me?”

She stole a sideways glance and they were quiet for a moment before He continued.

“There is nothing you can do, or give or sew, that will ever make you good enough. There’s no need for you to even concern yourself with trying to be good enough. I’ve done the work for you.”

“But the River of Death,” she managed to whisper as another roll of thunder rumbled across the sky.

“Listen to me, Hope. It is true that every one born is subject to the River of Death. I took death’s penalty on my own body. Because of what I did, you can know me.”

Hope looked at Him and saw scars on His face, arms, hands and feet. Why had she not noticed them before now? It was as though she was seeing Him with new eyes. She reached out and lightly touched the scar on His arm.

“Why would you do that?”

He smiled and brushed a tear from her cheek as He said, “You are precious to me.”

Hope glanced at the sky overhead just as the first raindrops began to fall. She looked over at Him, but He was gone. In the place where He had been sitting was a folded paper.

Hope looked around and then carefully picked up the folded piece of paper. It was heavy linen paper with her name written on the outside and a wax seal was on the folded seam. She carefully broke the seal, unfolded it to find the page was filled with writing. Hope’s shoulders sank. GG had taught her to read her name, but that was all. She could not read the letter. The rain fell more steadily now as she stood, tenderly tucking the paper against her body in an effort to protect it from the rain. She began walking, and then running all the way back to Stone House. GG would read it to her.

She spotted GG coming out of the hen house with a basket of eggs. She stopped when she saw Hope running toward her.

“Why Hope. What on earth?” GG said; her eyes big question marks.

Hope held out the paper and explained how the Kings Son had left it on the grass at the edge of the wood, by the brook.

GG took the folded linen paper from Hope’s hand and they headed into Stone House and up the stairs to GG’s room. She turned the beautiful linen paper over in her hand and with a smile said, “Hope, this is indeed special. I recognize the King’s seal. This letter is from the King’s Son and it’s addressed to you.”

Hope’s eyes were wide with wonder as GG sat down in the overstuffed chair in the corner and slowly unfolded the paper. Hope sat down on the footstool and rested her hands on GG’s knees as she waited for GG to begin reading.

GG’s eyes shone as she began to read. It seemed to these two precious ones that they were about to enjoy a feast of another kind: a feast of words penned by the King’s Son to one of His beloved.

Dear Hope,

I know all that has happened since we first met at the brook. Things are very difficult for you because you dared speak of me in certain circles. I know it is painful to be so despised for no other reason than you know me. Take heart for they hated me before they hated you.

While you were abandoned, I will never abandon you. Stone House is not your true home. One day when my Father, the King, gives the word, I shall come for you and take you to my home. My Father’s estate is a forever kind of home. A home where fear is not allowed to enter and where joy flows like the brook you know so well. You will no longer wear the ill-fitting garments of Stone House. You will be adorned as is fitting for a daughter of the most-high King.

From this moment when asked who you are and to whom you belong, you shall no longer say that you belong to no one. Nor shall you say you are worthless, for you belong to the household of the King. You are mine and all I have is yours.

Trust in the words I have written for they are true indeed. When the day seems dark as night, and the River of Death seems to roar and drowned out the sound of my voice, remember I am coming for you soon.

Until that day,

Prince of Peace

Hope sat very still. She was afraid any movement would find her waking and the letter only a dream. Sensing Hope’s apprehension, GG pulled the small girl into her arms and whispered soft and low, “Hope, you can trust the Son. His word is sure. All He has done for you—for us—cannot be undone. Remember, one of His names is Strong Tower and all who run to Him are saved. As Hope listened she knew GG’s words were true. The Son’s words seemed to rise up off the paper and become engraved on her heart—written there by the Son Himself. She fell asleep that night with the letter tucked beneath her pillow.

Sometime in the night Hope sat up, startled as thunder crashed, rattling the old house. Rain beat against the window as lightning lit up the darkness. What was that? Hope clutched the blanket as she strained to make out something hiding in the darkness. The lightning flashed again and she caught her breath. It was Ms. Lila.  Hope thrust her hand under her pillow.

“Looking for this?”

There was no need for Hope to strain to see through the darkness as Ms. Lila had moved next to the bed. Hope could feel the woman’s breath against her skin.

“I’m going to destroy you,” Her words came out in a raspy whisper that sent shivers of fear up Hope’s spine.

A huge gust of wind tore at the house and a loud crack followed by a deafening crash and breaking glass as a tree branch tore through the bedroom window sending shards of glass and wood cascading across the room. Ms. Lila had fallen to the floor, momentarily stunned, as Hope bolted across the room, out the door and down the stairs. She reached the first floor and stood breathless as she tried to hear above the noise of the storm. Movement caught her eye and she knew Ms. Lila was coming. Coming for her. Coming to destroy her.

Hope ran to the foyer and opened the heavy front door as wind tore at her pajamas and rain stung her face. She stood there for a moment but could hear footsteps closing in from behind so she dashed out into the night—into the storm.

Hope’s legs felt heavy as she ran against the wind with the destroyer on her heels and then she heard a sound that filled her with terror. The noise grew ever louder and then through the darkness she saw it.

“You can’t escape the River of Death.”

“Prince of Peace defeated it!”

Hope recognized GG’s voice and as she turned around, she saw GG, William, Charles and Robert running toward her, the wind tearing at their clothing. GG yelled something but the roar of the River overflowing its banks seemed to swallow her words and snatch them away unheard.

William and Robert stood between Hope and Ms. Lila.

“Hope! Are you hurt?” William asked as he put his face close to hers in order to be heard above the roar of the River and the howling wind.

Hope was shaking her head no just as Charles yelled for them to get out of the way. Ms. Lila was running toward them with something heavy in her hands, which she was waving through the air. Hope felt as though her feet were frozen to the ground. William pushed her out of the way as she went sprawling headlong into a muddy bog.

Hope turned in the direction of the shouting and wiped mud from her eyes with the sleeve of her soaked pajamas just as Ms. Lila swung the wooden plank catching William, Charles and Robert by surprise and they all three disappeared over the side and into the raging River.

Hope crawled to the edge of the bog, the sides were slippery making it impossible to get her footing. She grabbed at the sides, but the muddy earth was unable to hold her and she kept sliding back into the bog. Looking around for something to grab onto she spotted a root sticking out of the ground. Struggling in that direction, she writhed her small frame up the side of the bog until she was able to reach the root with her hand. She grabbed onto it, the sharp edges cutting into her palm, but she forced herself to hang on and used it to pull herself out.

She stood and willing her legs to carry her she ran in the direction of the River, stopping less than a foot from the edge. Peering into the darkness, she could just make out four figures. Wait a minute. There should only be three. Pulling up her drenched sleeve, she counted on her fingers as she said each name: William, Charles, Robert and a fourth. She wiped her eyes, squinting through the rain, sudden recognition in her expression. She began to shout, hoping they would see Prince of Peace in the water with them.

Hope knew William had recognized Prince of Peace as she saw him reach out just as Prince of Peace grabbed hold of Him. Prince of Peace was saying something and though Hope could not hear, she knew the words He spoke were true and she could tell William was greatly comforted.  Prince of Peace looked beyond William. He was calling out. Hope followed His gaze and spotted Robert and Charles thrashing about frantically in the water.

Hope ran along the riverbank and began to yell at the two boys to grab onto Prince of Peace. He was calling for them. Stretching out His hand.

Robert and Charles were being swept along. Something caught Robert’s right arm and he was unable to move it. The pain was great. Through the pain and the swirling current, he knew he could do nothing to save himself.

“Robert!”

Someone was calling him. He thought for a moment it might have been Charles, but Charles was too busy trying to swim toward a fallen tree being swept along in the icy current.

“Come to Me, Robert!”

Turning in the direction of the voice Robert saw William and the stranger who had recently helped plow the field at Stone House.

What was the name Hope had called Him? Prince of Peace. Suddenly all the things that GG had said over the years about the King and His Son came flooding back and as Robert struggled to keep his head above the water, he knew deep inside that everything he had been told was true. GG had called Him by another name too. What was it?

“Strong Tower!” Robert yelled. But the words seemed to vanish in the watery depths. Yet Prince of Peace must have heard, for suddenly He was there and had Robert in a firm grasp and Robert knew He was saved indeed.

Robert and William began shouting for Charles to call on Strong Tower too.

“He is the only way to be saved,” Robert shouted.

Charles shook his head. “No! I don’t believe you and I don’t believe Him.”

Charles had managed to make it to the fallen tree that seemed to have lodged itself on something below the surface. It seemed safe enough and Charles felt quite safe and comfortable putting all his weight on its sturdy trunk.

“Don’t be foolish. That tree can’t save you. Please. Call on Strong Tower. His words are true. He alone can save you.”

Charles clung to the tree all the more and shook his head defiantly. “I won’t let go of this tree. I trust it. I am sure there is more than one way to be saved.”

Lightning cracked overhead and the wind rose, causing the current to move ever more quickly and the fallen tree suddenly shifted and rolled causing Charles to lose his grasp and he and the tree disappeared in the black depths of death. He was gone.

Hope stared at the place where only a moment ago Charles had been. Why hadn’t he put his trust in Prince of Peace? She didn’t understand. Her eyes scanned the River as she searched for William, Robert and Prince of Peace, but she couldn’t see them. Suddenly she was knocked to the ground. She turned to see what was happening and watched in horror as GG and Ms. Lila struggled with the wooden plank.

“I will destroy you!” Ms. Lila hissed

“I’m not afraid of you. I put my trust in Strong Tower years ago. His words are true and what He did for me cannot be undone. Not even by you. Not even by the River of Death!”

GG’s words seemed to make Ms. Lila even more angry as she bent and shoved the wooden plank against GG’s body as hard as she could. GG tried to stay on her feet, but the ground was unstable and fell away and suddenly GG fell backwards. It was as though the River of Death reached out with icy fingers and pulled her in.

“Oh! GG!”

Hope screamed at the top of her lungs as she scrambled to the edge of the River, scanning its surface for any sign of her. Tears stung Hope’s eyes. Life wasn’t possible at Stone House without Grace. Grace had saved her that stormy night six-years ago. Hope ran along the riverbank shouting GG’s name until her voice cracked with weariness and spent emotion. Though she pleaded and cried out GG did not come back. She was gone from her.

 A sharp pain in Hope’s shoulder stole her breath away momentarily as she tried to gain her bearings. She turned just as Ms. Lila swung the heavy piece of wood in her direction again. Hope darted out of the way and the heavy plank sunk into the mud and Lila was unable to free it.

Ms. Lila’s eyes were filled with hatred as she moved toward Hope and tried to grab her arm. Instinctively Hope backed away but the ground beneath her feet gave away and she fell into the icy water. For a moment Hope’s delicate face was visible in the swirling current, but then she sank beneath the surface and in an instant all of Hope disappeared from view.

Hope felt she would sink forever; caught fast in the current of the River of Death as it swept her along ever deeper and she was powerless against it. Suddenly something caught hold of her. Perhaps her clothing had become snagged on a branch.  She seemed no longer to be going down, but to be moving upward.  

“Rest in Me, Hope.”

Turning, Hope found herself looking into familiar eyes. Prince of Peace had hold of her and it seemed to her the River let her go and within His arms she was hidden—safe from death’s grasp.

She leaned into Prince of Peace. He indeed was her Strong Tower. She buried her face in His chest, knowing she had been powerless to save herself. But He had saved her, just like He said. His words were true and they took on a deeper meaning now. She rested fully on this One who was a Strong Tower.  Prince of Peace.  Ancient of Days.

It was then they reached the shore on the other side. He carried her—lifting her out of death’s depths.

He set her down then. Turning, she stood motionless as two familiar ones ran in her direction. William reached her first. He laughed as he picked her up and twirled her around. She squealed with delight to be reunited with the tall boy with freckles on his nose.

“O Hope. It’s everything GG told us about and more.”

William set her down and Robert stood looking into her eyes.

“Thank you for standing your ground when I made fun of you and your belief in Prince of Peace. Because of you, I believed when I met Him in the raging waters.”

Hope reached out and hugged Robert tight. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’m so glad you are here.”

Grinning ear to ear, the boys stepped aside and looked further down the shore. Hope followed their gaze as a familiar figure came into view, walking along the shore in their direction. Hope recognized her at once, as there was no one like her.

“GG!”

GG hurried toward her and then took off at a full sprint. Her legs no longer hampered by aging creaky joints. Hope ran to meet her. What a joyful reunion there on the shore of the King’s grand estate, Hope was swept up in the sweet embrace of Grace. There was no more fear. No more pain. No more sadness. No more darkness. No more River of Death.

Suddenly someone was singing the most beautiful song Hope had ever heard. Turning she smiled as she saw Prince of Peace. He was singing.

GG leaned close to Hope and whispered, “He told me a new name: My Song.”

Hope loved that name very much as she stood with her friends listening to My Song’s voice. He came and took Hope’s hand and led her down a lovely garden pathway. Then through the trees she saw a vast house.

“Whose house is that?” Hope asked a bit breathless at the sight of the sprawling home.

“That’s My Father’s house. It has many rooms. Come and see.”

Prince of Peace swung Hope up onto His shoulders just as some lovely butterflies came fluttering from a nearby garden. One of them landed on Hope’s arm and she giggled as she was quite certain the butterfly’s wings made a soft sing-song-sound as it flew away.

As Prince of Peace climbed the steps to the house, He began to sing another song. It was about His Father. The song told of the Everlasting One who never slumbers or sleeps and never grows weary. Hope rested her chin on the top of His head and smiled as His hair tickled her cheek as He walked along. They reached the doors and they opened wide to let them inside. Prince of Peace gently swung Hope to the floor as she tried to take in the vastness of the entry they were standing in. It had to be as large as a city and yet it felt cozy all at the same time. Smiling, Prince of Peace led the way down a corridor with murals on the walls. They came to the end of the corridor and it opened into one of the most lovely room Hope had ever seen.

The walls were a color she couldn’t identify. There were vines and flowers climbing on trellises; their scent filling the room with their fragrance. She walked over and buried her face in a bouquet; their petals soft against her cheeks.

“Come, little one. It’s time to get ready.”

“For what?” Hope asked.

“I want to introduce you to my Father.”

“The King?”

“Yes. The King.”

Hope was filled with excitement at the thought. Prince of Peace explained He had some things to do and would be back soon to take her to meet His Father.

Hope washed and then just as she was wondering what she was supposed to wear to meet the King she saw a beautiful dress hanging in a corner by a window. A soft breeze rustled the draperies and the dress softly swayed under its caress and the dress shimmered in the light. There was a tag in the collar and she went to see it. She smiled as she realized she knew what was written on the tag: His Righteousness. She carefully took the dress off of the hanger and pulled it over her head. It fit perfectly. She turned and looked in a mirror and caught her breath. Her eyes shone. Her auburn hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders and dressed in His Righteousness, she looked like a daughter of the King.

“Are you ready?”

Hope turned to see Prince of Peace standing in the doorway waiting for her.

Prince of Peace took her hand as they walked through a lovely garden. A fountain stood in the center but the water was unlike any water Hope had ever seen. She went to take a closer look. The water cascaded and appeared to dance. Flowers of every hue surrounded the fountain. Suddenly, the flowers began to sing, their blossoms raising their open faces toward the other side of the courtyard. The water began to move and Hope raised her eyes to Prince Of Peace who smiled.

“Living Water,” He said.

It was then a sound came from the trees. Startled, Hope looked up at the leafy boughs as they shook and the branches came together.

“The trees are—are clapping!”

GG had always said that the trees clapped for joy when the King came near. Hope turned as movement caught her eye. The King emerged – the flowers breaking into song, the trees joyfully clapping and Hope was overcome. Clothed in His Righteousness, Hope knelt and bowed her head. She was quite certain her heart was going to leap right out of her chest at any moment. It was then she felt a hand on her head and voice rich and deep spoke.

“Welcome home, Hope.”

A strong yet gentle hand lifted her gaze and she found herself looking into the very eyes of love. The words GG had said to her often flooded her thoughts now. For the Father loved so much that He gave. He gave His Son.

She looked up at Strong Tower. His scars seemed more pronounced and as the words washed over her soul she understood them. She turned her gaze back to the King who had something in His right hand: a crown. A crown made to fit her head alone. The King bent down and tenderly placed the crown on Hope’s head. He lingered there looking into her very soul and then bending down He kissed her cheek. He then whispered a name that she had not heard.

“Wonderful.”

The King lifted Hope to her feet as the trees clapped for joy and the flowers sang and the Living Water danced and Hope smiled—joy in her heart as she stood face-to-face with the King and His Son, clothed in His Righteousness; a crown upon her head. 

An Original Conversations at the Well

By Diana Morgan © Copyright August 25, 2013