Ms. Honey's Resurrection

Updated: Aug 5, 2021

Ms. Honey was supposed to make a prayer; to ask GOD for good health, for prosperity and life. But she wasn't sure he'd hear her. She hadn't prayed in a while you see. Tuesday's hospital appointment; the doctor's recommendation she take the coming month to make peace with her loved ones; or perhaps Wednesday night's stray white cat and it's slinky strut along her fence; took more of her attention than they should have. But today was Sunday, and GOD ought to be in a forgiving mood. So Ms. Honey got into her red beetle, and made a beeline for St' Patrick's church.

With her heart on her sleeves, she parked the car at the end of the long line in the courtyard, and dashed for the entrance; the heavenly melodies beckoning her to approach. Church was teeming with people, per the Sunday norm, but something inexplicable drove her to take the aisle long walk to the front pew. Miraculously, the corner seat, at the very foot of Father John's altar, was empty. With as much grace as she could master, given she'd just burst into the church to the congregation's surprise, Ms. Honey sunk into the seat. Father John's gaze was on her, and she tried for some calm; pursing her lips and blinking profusely, to keep both trembles and tears at bay. At her entry, the choir had stopped singing and the ambience plunged into an eerie silence. Thankfully, Father John's baritone voice broke the trance with a call to pray. If the local folks about her closed their eyes in obedience, Ms. honey was unaware. Her eyes remained fixed on the man at the altar; desperately hoping he'd allay her fears. The ceremonial 'Amen' was announced and without missing a beat, Father John began to preach. Service was lovely as usual; over the occasional coughs and murmurs about her dramatic entry, Christ's love for all men was emphasized. All the while, Ms. Honey fought the urge to weep. Truly! truly! GOD had forsaken her!

As John read from the gospel book of 'Matthew' and explained the parable of the Sower, as best as a farm boy could anyways, he stole occasional glances of Jane. She was making a mighty effort not to cry and barely succeeding. He could have gone with her to the hospital. Or paid her a visit in the week. Yeah.....he could have if she'd let him. She was so stubborn! In a few minutes, he'd be done with the service and they'd have a moment alone, to talk. He looked down at her again, their eyes locked, and a tear fell down her face. Damn it! " the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit; may the good Lord, he who knows and ordains all, bless his word". Once more, the congregation freed him to act with a collective 'Amen' and he stepped back from the dais. She must have panicked, because she stood as he moved, and he had to force himself to wait for the choir to resume it's singing. A few blessed notes into the church favorite, 'Pass Me Not, O Gentle Saviour', and he was taking the five shallow steps to the congregational floor. "Father John I....." she began to speak, but he stopped her with a single shake of his head as they met. Taking her cold, bonny right hand in his much bigger one, he gently moved his thumb over her knuckles. "John. Call me John", he whispered down at her. She squeezed his hand as though she'd found an anchor, "Hi. Hi John" she sobbed shakenly. He squeezed too and whispered in answer, "Hi there". That seemed to work; finally she smiled and something in his chest shifted. Good....very good, he thought. He liked her smile, it was pretty and better, much better than her crying.

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