Hope Meets Mercy

Welcome back to my series about a child named Hope. This is simply a creative writing exercise. It may or may not become a book. For now, it is simply a vehicle used to transport, to you, some important truths about life. I hope you continue to support it and enjoy it.

This is how it all began for Hope……

“And the child was born, and as she grew it became apparent that this was a special child. Her golden hair reflected sunlight on sunny days, and during the gloom of winter she seemed to absorb the darkness, so that those in her proximity felt warmth where there was cold.

By the time she was eight she was sought by millions, all longing to be near her, to touch her, to bask in her peacefulness, and to hear her words. Every week, every Saturday, in a field of lavender, she met with those who had come from distant shores, and she answered their questions with patience, and with love.”

Meanwhile, there was a young woman…Mercy….

“The last of the sun’s rays sparkle upon the water and lead to the lone figure at the water’s edge, as though nature itself wished to spotlight the young woman. Her face is bathed in gold, and worry creases her brow and gives her the appearance of one much older than her seventeen years.

Even though she is young, there is wisdom in that face, a wisdom born from experience. Her childhood was not easy, no walk in the park, giggling over nonsense, whiling away the hours in frivolous pursuits childhood, but rather a childhood of seriousness, of heartbreaks, of loneliness and disappointments.

But she is not bitter. Strangers pass her in the street and marvel at her gentle smile, the way her mouth gives just a hint of amusement, while her eyes embrace those she meets. Hers is a welcoming smile, a glad-to-know you smile, a life-is-better-for-knowing-you smile, and even on the coldest of days she brings warmth to those in her proximity.”

Word spread throughout the land, from mountaintops to the seashore, from the slums to a street named Wall, of these two girls, one eight, one seventeen, and rumors began to circulate that soon they would meet.

Just as an avalanche begins with a single flake of snow, so too the speculation regarding this meeting gained momentum, from quiet whispers to shouted proclamations. Lawmakers buzzed about it, and consideration was given to naming a special day in honor of the historic meeting. Housewives told their children as they tucked them in at night, and grizzled news editors, cynical from years of covering horror and inhumanity, considered the ramifications of such a meeting, a meeting few had dared to consider as even possible.

Could Hope truly be meeting Mercy soon?

Where would they meet? How would the crowds who wished to attend such a monumental meeting be controlled? Would there be hysteria? Would there be riots? What would it do to the social fabric of this country if these two girls came together?

The Hope and Mercy Watch began. Television crews camped out in front of the homes of Hope and Mercy. The social media was overflowing with discussions, comments, and speculation. Facebook was in danger of shutting down from the sheer volume of posts about Hope and Mercy. At the pinnacle of The Watch, it was estimated that three billion people around the world were obsessed with the possible meeting.

It happened!

No, it did not happen at the White House, although it is rumored that the President was greatly disappointed and offended at the supposed slight, and wondered why the two girls did not react positively to his command to appear before him.

No, it did not happen at one of the many palaces around the world. The meeting of Hope and Mercy did not occur in any courtroom or legislative chamber. Some corporations were convinced that Hope and Mercy would one day enter their boardrooms, where crucial economic decisions were made, but as the days went on, it become apparent that it was not possible for Hope and Mercy to appear in a corporation.

Instead, in a small fishing village on the coast of Oregon, one day the residents awoke to bright sunshine in the middle of January. This same village had been devastated the year before by a massive tidal wave, and it was still a struggle for many of the townsfolk to do anything other than just survive from day to day. But on this day, the sun rose steadily in the sky, and temperatures threatened to break all-time high records. Buds appeared on the plants and trees, and hibernating animals poked their heads from burrows in confusion.

As the clock struck noon on this day, a young girl walked hand-in-hand with a teenage girl down the main street of business, and in their wake came all the children of that town, for children recognized Hope and Mercy much sooner than the adults. Like a tsunami, word spread, so that by the time the two girls reached the city park, a throng consisting of old and young, skeptics and believers, had gathered.

As if pulled from the sleeve of a magician, helicopters arrived with news teams, and the National Guard roared into town in transports, for the government was facing the unknown and that always breeds fear and great caution among those in power. It is one thing to hear of Hope and Mercy, and quite another to actually face them, so the air was electric with emotions.

Flanked by a phalanx of policemen, the mayor and police chief arrived at the park and hesitantly approached the two girls, who were smiling radiantly and accepting thanks from the townsfolk.

“What are you doing here,” the mayor asked.

“You need us,” Hope replied.

The police chief stepped forward, scowling. “We are doing fine without outside interference. The government is quite capable of handling any problems in this community.”

“You need us,” Mercy stated.

For a moment the elected officials conferred, and then turned back to the girls.

The mayor spoke louder, with more confidence, so that the entire crowd could hear. “There is no need for you here. We are providing food and housing for our citizens. We have temporary housing for everyone who lost their home last year. We have soup kitchens open every day for those in need of nourishment. What more could you two possibly do for our people?”

Hope motioned for one of the bystanders to come forth. It was a middle-aged woman, her hair unwashed, her face sallow, her posture speaking volumes to those who saw her.

The child of eight reached out and held the hand of the woman.

“What is your name?”

The woman smiled and said her name was Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, I want you to float above me, please. Just let go of my hand and leave the ground.”

The woman was obviously confused by it all, and the crowd began shaking their heads in unison, so ridiculous was the request of the young girl.

“I cannot do that. I don’t know how.”

“Then take my hand and we’ll do it together.”

The woman once again held Hope’s hand and then, to the astonishment of all who were there, Hope and Elizabeth rose from the ground to a height of ten feet. After several seconds they returned to the ground, and Hope turned to the mayor.

“That is what I can do for you, sir.”

Mercy then spoke. “Mr. Mayor, you have taken care of the basic necessities of life, and we commend you for it, but these people need more than that. Ask the survivors of Hurricane Sandy or Hurricane Katrina. People need more than food, water, and shelter. They need Hope. They need more than handouts to regain their lives. They need Mercy. Do you not see that? Do you not comprehend?

“Hope provides these people with the will to continue despite overwhelming obstacles. I let them know that people actually care about them, that they are not alone and never will be. Food, clothing, and shelter do not do these things; you do not do these things.

“Wherever people are in need, Hope and Mercy must appear. Having said that, you will have to excuse us. We are needed elsewhere.”

The child and the teen made one last trip through the crowds, touching everyone, assuring them that all is well, and then as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone.

Hope is never absent. Mercy is in each of us. To see them, we only have to reach inside ourselves and become willing. We must be able to see life as they see it, and love people as they love them.

A small town in Iowa digs out of the rubble of an F5 tornado. Many have died because of nature’s monster, and many are still missing. The citizens wander around dazed.

As the clock struck noon on this day, a young girl walked hand-in-hand with a teenage girl down the main street of business, and in their wake came all the children of that town, for children recognized Hope and Mercy much sooner than the adults. Like a tsunami, word spread, so that by the time the two girls reached the city park, a throng consisting of old and young, skeptics and believers, had gathered.

2014 William D. Holland (aka billybuc)