O Ye Faithful

 

All Things That Matter Press, true to its mission, has published another of my books. The link to Amazon is to the right on this blog. Below is the sample story from collection of stories.

O, Ye Faithful

And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul:

But rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.

Mariam was seated in her family room, watching news on the TV. Her thoughts were aloof and poignant. Some sort of poignant aloofness, which had become a part of her psyche and spirit since her little daughter had contracted AIDS.  Three long, bitter years since that horrible car accident.  Her daughter, Crystal had lain bleeding in the hospital, and blood infusion had made her the victim of AIDS.  Mariam had lost faith in God after this great tragedy. God had left her heart. He had abandoned her to the mercy of this cruel world.

Mariam was watching the colors on the screen, not heeding the words. Her thoughts were reaching out to her daughter.  Straying in realms cruel and malign, where scorn and malice were the proud queens in this land sacred and civilized!  Her own homeland!  Her gold city!  Her New York!  Her own beloved America!

This very day was the Fall Quarter of school year. Crystal had returned to school. All were astir, exultant reporters, incensed parents, insensate children, and the relentless horde of New York.  All had gathered together in one mass of rage and indignation.  Clamoring about the injustice of letting a child with AIDS to attend school!  The school yard was teeming with parents of the healthy children, protesting against the justice of the Court in permitting Crystal to attend school.

Mariam's thoughts were swimming in little pools of rage and torment, as she kept watching TV.  Not even acknowledging the presence of her husband, who had just drifted into the room, and had seated himself beside her.

I want to keep my kids at home where they are safe— one irate mother was commenting.  The flash of lightning in her gaze piercing the TV screen!

"God, dear God!" Mariam exclaimed suddenly. "What insufferable arrogance? Safe from what, does she know?  Is anyone safe in this besotted world of malice and cruelty?  Can one divine the hour of death?  Can one ward off misfortunes?  Is death not inevitable?  Does she have any fear of God?  No pity in her heart!  No love for the innocent children, but for her own healthy brood!  Do homes promise safety?  Can one not die in sleep?  What about the fires, floods, storms, hurricanes?  AIDS is not contagious.  If it was, I would be the first one not to permit Crystal to attend school.  How could I endure the agony of knowing that other children would be infected?"  She turned to her husband, as if pleading. "Oh, Peter, is there no help from God?  No mercy, no comfort, no consolation!  Crystal, my poor baby, how she suffers, the insults and cruelty?  No friends, how stricken and bewildered she looks—"

"Mary," Peter began soothingly. "You would tear your heart to pieces, if you go on like this.  Crystal needs us, she needs our love.  She needs—you," his tone was vehement abruptly.  "No one has any friends, Mary, no one, but parasites and flatterers.  Greed and gluttony!  Malice and deceit!  The inherent virtues in all of us, and they are virtues, believe me.  The vices are but few, stupidity and ignorance!  Do you think that the misfortunes of one move the other to pity or kindness?  No, Mary, no!  People gloat over the misfortunes of the others.  One cannot fight against ignorance, Mary, and certainly, not against malefic evil in each and every heart!"

"Peter," Mary murmured absently. "I thought I am the only one losing faith in God.  You have too?  No hope from God, no faith in God.  Can we still call ourselves Christians?  We have become godless.  Surely, there must be some goodness in people's hearts?  They are not all evil.  Let us pray, Peter, let us pray to God.  Let us renew our hope—"

"Which God, Mary!"  Peter interrupted fiercely.  "The gods and goddesses of the pagans, where are they now?  Brahma, Buddha, Jehovah, Jesus, Muhammed, do they help the afflicted?  The gods are dead.  No love in our hearts, no Salvation in Faith, no comfort in prayers."  His thoughts were throbbing and foundering.  "Though, I do believe in goodness, in us and in others and in love."

"I am not strong, Peter."  Mariam lamented softly.  "I am weak.  I can't think.  I can't even think of going to church. Remember, the forced smiles of our congregation, the averted looks, and the cold greetings.  The reek of pity!  I wish I can find comfort in Bible as I did before."  Her gaze was searching her husband's eyes.  "I know you love reading, but why are you reading a host of religious books these days?  The book on Calvinistic theology, is that the one you keep by your pillow?  Quran, Bhagavad-Gita, the teachings of Buddha!  What are you trying to learn from all these books?  Some cure for your pain?"

"I have learnt nothing, Mary, nothing!"  Peter intoned rather passionately.  "Gita is too profound for my meager intellect, the concept of non-duality?  Quran, nothing new in there, but repetition of stories from the Bible!  I should get back to my philosophers. Spinoza.  Light displays both, itself and darkness.  Though, reading him has not helped me all this time. I haven't seen any light, but I know what darkness is," he got to his feet.  "Let us go to bed early.  Hoping that Crystal would have no more nightmares!"

"Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted."  Mariam's sad murmur was swallowed by Crystal's screams.

Both Peter and Mariam were flying to their daughter's bedside.

"Mom, dad, help, help—"   Crystal was screaming in her sleep.

"Crystal, my love, mommy is here."  Mariam was stroking Crystal's hair.

"They are beating, beat—ing—"   Crystal was sobbing amidst her dreams.

"Hush, darling, hush. Daddy is right here."  Peter was holding his daughter's hand.

Finally, Crystal was soothed, cradled between her parents.  She was sleeping.  Peter pretending to sleep!  And Mariam was reliving the nightmares of her daughter. 

Since Crystal had returned to school, her sleep was pierced by terrible nightmares. She would dream that she was running, running.  And a horde of kids were following her.  They were threatening to kill her.  Circling around her!  Then they would turn to snakes, lizards and all sorts of imaginable beasts.  Hissing and snarling with frenzy.

Dreams like these had become Crystal's living foes and inviolate nightmares for Peter and Mariam.  The protests of the parents had softened with time, and most of the children had returned to school.  Even Mariam had made her peace with God.

Crystal is going to die.  Mariam's own thoughts would hiss and warn!  Yes, she would die.  Knowing only the sting of hatred and rejection?  She would die unloved by her classmates and friendless in this swarming ocean of children.  She would think in utter despair.

And right now, this despair was fresh, when she faced her daughter who had just returned from school.

"I don't want to go to school, Mom, I don't want to."  Crystal complained, as soon as she tossed her bag in one corner.  "Why do I have to?"

"School is so much fun, my love!"  Mariam elicited one bright smile.  "You would be bored stiff if you stayed home."

"No one talks to me."  Crystal pouted her lips.  “No one plays with me.  No one likes me."

"You are much too sensitive, love."  Mariam attempted to soothe and reason.  "You haven't seen your friends all summer.  It takes time— to start the friendships all over again."

"I have no friends, Mom."  Crystal cried, forcing back her tears.  "No friends.  No one comes here.  I am not allowed— I have AIDS.  Am I going to die, Mom, am I?"

"My baby!"  Mariam folded Crystal into her arms.  "You are not going to die, love.  You are going to get well.  You would have lots and lots of friends—" She ceased to speak, watching Peter come into the room.

"Is this the way to cheer your dad, darling?"  Peter flashed a bright smile at Crystal.  "Who is going to Kings Island with me tomorrow?  Not you, if you cry.  Mommy is so scared of all the rides; you have to sit with me."

"I have no friends, no friends."  Crystal sobbed.

"New York is friendless, my pet."  Peter lifted her into his arms, suspending her high up.  "We are moving to Ohio.  Plenty of friends there!  Now, give your daddy a big smile.  That's it!"  He laughed, watching her smile through her tears.

The gloomy afternoon dwindled into a gloomier evening. Peter and Mariam sat at the dining table, with Crystal still unappeased.

"Am I really going to die, Dad?"  Crystal asked abruptly.

"All of us have to die, darling.  Sometime or the other!"  Peter tried to soothe her fear and curiosity.  "No one really knows, when. And no one likes to know, when.  All that lives must die, my pet.  That is the law of nature."  He stole a glance at Mariam.  Then he continued thoughtfully, as if Crystal was not a child, but a mature adult.  "The men, women, the birds and the beasts, all have to die.  Young or old!  Poor or rich!  All must taste death.  Life is not eternal."

"What is eternal, Dad?"  Crystal's fear was diverted by this big, strange word.

"It means, forever, darling."  Peter expounded.  "Nothing lasts forever."  He murmured to himself.

"Forever!"  Crystal repeated with a quick smile.  "I will be with you forever, Dad.  And Mom!  Will you be with me, Mom, when I die?"

"Yes, my love, always."  Mariam smiled.  Her heart wounded and bleeding!

"Think about life, darling.  And about love, our love," Peter coaxed.

"Will I go to heaven after I die?"  Crystal asked heedlessly.

"Yes, darling, yes."  Peter was trying his best to be cheerful, but his thoughts were straying and swarming.  "Heaven, especially, is made for little girls like you.  Your innocence alone is the ticket to heaven.  Children know no sin."

"What is sin, Dad?"  Crystal was in a loquacious mood.

"When one does something bad."  Peter struggled with his thoughts.  "Or, when one hurts someone!"

"We are going to have so much fun at Kings Island."  Mariam tried to divert Crystal's attention from such morbid thoughts.

"All the kids in school are bad."  Crystal declared.  "They don't talk to me.  They are sin."

"Oh, love."  Mariam could only murmur.

"My pet."  Was Peter's mild reproof!

"All kids hate me."  Crystal continued assiduously.  "They hate me."

"Come, pet, we have to get that poodle from the Mall."  Peter got to his feet.

The autumn with the loveliest of its colors had succumbed to the death in winter.  And Mariam's heart had the same chill and darkness inside its pulsating womb as before.

What does one hope to achieve in this sea of madness and suffering.  Mariam would think inside the bliss of her own oblivion.  This life! This black, wretched misery!  This churning despair!  This groaning, throbbing hopelessness.  She was wont to find refuge in this sea of hopeless, helpless pain.

Such pain was visiting her again, as she handed the clean dishes to Peter for drying.

"You startled me last night, Mary.  Startled me out of my wits and sanity!"  Peter commented.

"Oh, it was horrible, Peter.  The worst nightmare I have ever had."  Mariam sought the armless chair, and sank into it as if gasping for breath.  "Did I tell you all?  The dream was so real.  I had gone to get Crystal from school.  I couldn't find her.  Then I noticed a throng of teenagers carrying an un-lidded casket.  Crystal was in that casket.  Her features pale and twisted!  Her eyes were bright.  The fear of death shining in them!  The boys, the girls, they were lowering this casket down and down.  Crystal was screaming.  Help, help, mom, dad!"

"Mary, love, didn't I tell you not to read any magazine."  Peter's tone was consoling, yet harsh.  "This is no nightmare, but a facsimile of vulgarity in print.  Didn't you see such a scene depicted on the cover of Newsweek?  The cover story!  I am going to cancel all subscriptions.  We don't need the help of the besotted artists."

"No use pretending, Peter that we are not suffering."  Mariam murmured gently.  "Yet, I am suffering less, now that Crystal has conjured up a friend, and seems happy!  Haven't you noticed?"

"A friend!"  Peter asked incredulously.

"Yes, a friend."  Mariam intoned reminiscently.  "Her fantasy friend—a dear, dear friend at school!"

"Why do you think, she conjured up this friend?"  Peter asked intently.  "Does this friend of hers have a name?"

"I didn't ask, Peter."  Mariam murmured.  "I know, Peter, I—"   She couldn't finish, for Crystal came sailing into the kitchen.

"I am hungry, Mom."  Crystal chirped happily.  "Are we ready to eat?"

"Yes, love, yes."  Mariam smiled.

"How are we doing in school?"  Peter inquired endearingly.

"Better, Dad!"  Crystal claimed her seat.  "Didn't mom tell you, I have a friend, now?"

"Well, tell your dad your friend's name."  Peter asked.  "Your mom never tells me anything."

"Ma—ggy."  Was Crystal's laconic response!

"Where does she live?"  Peter prodded further.

"Not she, Dad.  He!  A boy!"  Crystal laughed.

"Oh, Magi, you mean."  Peter murmured low.

"Ma—ggy, that's what I said, Dad.  He lives in the country."

"What an unusual name."  Peter thought aloud.

"Maggy is very nice.  And very handsome."  Crystal was saying.  "He came from, he told me, I don't know.  He sits by me.  When our math teacher asks us to close our eyes and pray.  He prays with me.  Do you know what he says, Dad?  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever, Amen.  What is evil, Dad?"  Was her abrupt query.

"Evil means, not good, darling."  Peter was watching her tenderly.  "If one hurts someone!  If one makes someone unhappy.  These acts make one evil, if they have hurt someone, or made others unhappy."  He couldn't explain, his thoughts foundering inside realms profound.  "One's own sin toward one’s own self, or toward others makes one evil.  And evil in one's mind and heart makes one commit sin."

"I know, Dad."  Crystal snatched the pause.  "Like all the kids in school.  They are sin!"

"No, love, people are not sin."  Mariam smiled.  "If they commit sin, they are called sinful.  That means, full of sin."

"All kids ignore Maggy, as they do me."  Crystal continued heedlessly.  "No one talks to him.  They don't even see him.  Just like me, they look at me as if I am not there.  Maggy doesn't like lunch, but I make him share from my tray.  At recess, we sit on the swing and talk.  He is the bestest of my friends, and funny too."

"Invite him here, love—"   Mariam could not continue, cursing her for her own indiscretion.

"Maggy helps his dad at the farm."  Crystal began hastily.  "He says he has no time.  He is going to take me to his farm, show me the pigs, sheep.  He has horses.  I want a pony, Dad, can I?"  She asked abruptly.

"Yes, my pet, when we move to the country."  Peter responded wistfully.

 

"Can we, Dad, can we?"  Crystal clapped her hands.  “Maggy's dad has a big farm.  A big house too.  We can move close to Maggy."  She was distracted by the chimes from the Ormolu clock, announcing the hour of her cartoons.  "I am excused, aren't I—"   She sailed out of the kitchen happily.

The dusk in the evening was replaced by chill and bleakness, as Peter and Mariam lay in bed.  Both wearied and distraught, both trying to sleep!

"Magi is an unusual name, Mary."  Peter murmured to himself.  "Her friend must be real?  She has a wild imagination, I know.  But she is not the one to imagine a friend, so close to reality."

"She is hallucinating, Peter."  Mariam, too, demurred aloud.  "A mother knows.  Last Tuesday, I watched her from the window.  As I wait for her every day when it's time for her to come home from school.  But that day, I could notice she was talking to herself.  As if saying goodbye to someone!  When she came inside, she literally flew into my arms.  Did you see Maggy, Mom?"  She babbled away.  He walked home with me.  He will be going away to see an old friend, I don't know what all she said."  She sighed to herself.  "Do you think, Peter that even children, to shut out the pain and horror in living, find refuge in reveries and delusions?"

"Purity and innocence in a child's heart are their mighty weapons against cruelty in this world."  Peter commented tonelessly.  "Unarmed and exposed to danger, we all succumb to the assaults of deceit and injustice.  But very few of us, who can reclaim the purity and innocence within, can find shelter in hopes, if not in dreams.  More so the children, for they have not lost their purity and innocence, yet."

"Do we not live in a civilized world?"  Mariam appeared to question her own doubts.  "In a civilized world, preaching love, mercy and compassion!"

"Self-love, self-mercy, self-compassion."  Peter's tones were dreamy.  "History cannot help, but repeat itself.  Nothing would ever teach mankind to love others.  Civilized world, indeed!  What do the poor, the homeless, the afflicted and the unfortunate, receive from this civilized world?  Nothing, but disgust and mockery!  Famines still abound.  Deaths and hungers graze not the greed and gluttony of the wealthy nations.  The ages past and tragic!  Dark and blackened with tragedies!  The Bubonic plague!  The Great London plague.  What did people do then?  They looked upon the suffered and the suffering with loathing and revulsion.  Fleeing, fleeing."  He closed his eyes.

 

The white purity in winter had chilled and soothed Mariam's heart.  She had espoused peace.  She had ceased to think, knowing only that her daughter had found the crumbs of happiness.  Rarely would her thoughts approach the silent abyss inside her, but when they did, she could feel the raging storms underneath its calm surface.  Then she could hear her thoughts, raving and ranting, within the very fibers of her soul.

My daughter is suffering.  Suffering terribly!  Lonesome and friendless.  She is dying, dying.  Mariam had become accustomed to these agonized chants within her.

This very evening, Mariam was aware of these familiar chants, as she sat cuddled on the sofa, her head leaning to one side.  Crystal was sleeping in her bedroom.  She had fever, and was resting.  Mariam's thoughts were burning and unresting.

Already the end of another year!  The death of time!  The birth of a new year!  No, only December.  Mariam could taste the odor of fatigue and hopelessness in her thoughts.  Christmas songs!  Christian charity!  Commercial fever!  Gifts, feasts, festive celebrations!  No joy, no hope, no love, no peace?  No songs in my heart. Only the gifts of pains, fears and sorrows!  She was looking into the eyes of death.

So abysmal, so profound was the ocean of pain inside her that she didn't hear Peter's approach.  Not until he kissed her softly on the cheek.  He had just returned from work.

"Where is Crystal, doing her homework?"  Peter asked abstractedly.

"She is sleeping."  Was Mariam's involuntary response!  "A little feverish.  Raving.  Raving about Magi, as if he is real!  I think she is going insane, peter."  Despair was shining in her eyes.

"She is as sane as any normal child, Mary."  Peter's tone was soothing.  "Any normal child, who has learned to suffer the pain in living and has discovered the mystery of unsuffering.  If we didn't lose ourselves in happy dreams now and then, we all would go stark mad."  He failed in his attempt to smile.

"She is dying."  Mariam murmured inaudibly.

"We are not alone, darling, we have each other."  Peter claimed her hands and kissed them slowly.  "Together in joy and grief!  We still have Crystal, we have hope!"  He seemed stunned by the stark naked misery and despair in his wife's eyes.  "I am not only losing my daughter, but my wife."  He felt choked by the flood of misery inside his own heart.

"Peter."  Mariam could only mutter.  And in that one word were all her pain, all her love, all her agony.

"Mary."  Peter could think of no words of comfort.  "Rock Hudson died today."

"Poor man, how tragic!"  Was Mariam's poignant response.  "How the Press hounds even the dead?  How one slides down the ladder of acclaim to the rung of ignominy by the crafty words of the reporters?"

"Self-righteousness would lead us all to the doors of damnation."  Peter elicited one snort of laughter.  "Let us see if Crystal is really sleeping, or conjuring up dreams.  Or, talking with Magi!"  He held out his hands to assist her to her feet.

"Dad, I don't have a fever. Mom doesn't know."  Crystal sprang up in her bed, as soon as Peter and Mariam approached her.

"Moms don't know anything."  Mariam smiled.

"Did mom tell you, Dad, Magi invited me to his house?  Mom says I am allowed.  But I have to ask you.  Can I go, Dad, can I?"  Crystal asked with a feverish excitement.

"Can you, my pet!"  Peter teased.  "You may, darling, if your mom is wrong in assuming that you have fever."

"Maggy says he will take me home right after school.  Tomorrow, that is."  Crystal bubbled with enthusiasm.  "He says his mom loves little girls.  She baked hot-cross buns just for me.  I told him I am not a little girl.  He said his mom will love me anyways.  I am a big girl, Dad, ain't I?"

"You are still my little pet, darling."  Peter murmured effusively.

"You are warm, love.  And little moist!" Mariam was pressing Crystal's brow tenderly.

"Maggy says he loves his mom."  Crystal was chirping feverishly.  "She loves him too, but she loves little girls.  She may want to keep me forever, he says.  I told him I love my mom, and dad.  Very, very much!  And I don't want to leave them.  Never, never!  He looked at me very, very sad."  She put her own small hands on top of her mom's comforting ones.  "Very, very sad, Mom, You know, the way you look at me sometimes."  Her eyes were seeking her dad's attention.  "And then, Dad, he was so quiet.  I asked him why he was sad and not talking.  He said I am not sad.  I am just like you, listening to you.  And then, Dad, he said something very smart.  I don't understand.  We all have to leave our parents someday, but then we will meet them in heaven.  You mean when we all die, I said.  But he didn't talk.  He was sad and quiet again.  I asked him if he prayed.  He said, yes. I pray for the kids, for the world, he said. Isn't it smart, Dad?  And then he said something else.  He who fashions you in the—"   She couldn't remember, her eyes shining.

"He it is Who fashions you in the wombs as He wills; there is no God but He, the Mighty, the wise."  Peter quoted.  Some sort of chill cutting through his soul like a blade of ice.

"That's it, Dad, he said that!"  Crystal clapped happily.  "I told him my dad is very, very smart—" She paused.  A dreamy look alighting in her eyes.  "Sometimes I don't understand him, Dad.  I told him kids are bad.  They are sinful.  They don't love us, they hate everyone.  He said, they do not know, they do not know.  I don't understand, Dad.  Why is he so sad and quiet sometimes?"

"You mustn't say such things, love, about the kids."  Mariam shot her a mild reproof.

"He doesn't care, Mom."  Crystal closed her eyes.  "Everyone ignores him.  Maggy says nothing bad to anyone. But I tell him, all the kids are bad.  They don't talk to us.  They don't play with us.  But he becomes very, very sad. I don't want to make him sad, Mom.  I don't care if no one talks to me.  I want them to talk to Maggy.  He is so nice.  I will see him tomorrow— oh, Mom!  My head, hurting, hurting!"

The sunless morning with gray mists was sprinkling snow on the road as Peter drove to work.  His friend, Dr. Hazel had made a house visit and had prescribed Tylenol for Crystal.  Crystal had spent a restless night, but had found comfort in deep sleep in the early hours of the morning.  Then Mariam herself had snatched a few hours of rest.  Now she was wide awake, and listening to the night sounds, which she actually had heard from Crystal's lips in disturbed sleep.

Mom, I am so happy.  I will never leave you.  Never, never, Mom!  Marian could still hear her daughter's voice as she peeked into her room.  Crystal herself was wide awake.

"How are you feeling, love?"  Mariam kissed her on the brow.

"Fine, Mom, fine."  Crystal chirped brightly.  "I can't wait; I am going to Maggy's house."

"Yes, love, yes."  Mariam felt her pulse.  "Would you like a glass of juice?"

"Yes, please," was Crystal's keen response.

"Here, love. Drink this and two more Tylenols."  Mariam held out the tablets and a glass of juice.

"Sleepy again."  Crystal murmured, after swallowing the pills obediently.

"You didn't sleep well all night, love. So, you must rest."  Mariam smoothed the comforter over her fondly.

The early afternoon with a sprinkling of snow was greeting a little sunshine, as Mariam paced in her family room abstractedly.  Crystal was still sleeping, and her thoughts were seeking the chamber of mourning, where her mute laments were silenced forever.  Involuntarily, her feet were leading her toward her daughter's bedroom.  Crystal was awake.  She had begun to cough.  Tears gathering into her eyes due to the violence of coughing!

"I am hungry, Mom."  Crystal was laughing through her tears.

"Chicken soup, coming up!" Mariam retraced her steps.

"Mom, Maggy came to see me—"   Crystal was swallowing spoons full of chicken soup after Mariam balanced the tray in her lap.  "I woke up, my head was hurting.  He touched my forehead, my head stopped hurting."

"I didn't see him, love."  Mariam murmured low.  "You couldn't, Mom."  Crystal's eyes were shining.  “He said you were sleeping on the sofa.  He didn't want to disturb you."

"He didn't go to school."  Mariam commented to herself.

"Oh, Mom."  Crystal began to laugh.  He was in school.  When he didn't see me he asked the teacher if she would let him come to see me.  He came on his lunch break.  He said he will come after school.  We will see his mom.  You said I could go?"

"Yes, love, yes, if you feel better."  Mariam consoled absently.

"We will have so much fun, Mom."  Crystal was bubbling with joy.  “Maggy says they have a big garden.  Very, very big trees!  Apple, peach, all kinds!  No fruit now, but his mom made jams.  They have a big lake, very, very big.  Cows, goats and sheep and—"   She paused as if thinking.

"More soup, love."  Mariam ventured softly.

"No, Mom. Thank you.  Bathroom."  Crystal lumbered to her feet.

"Let me help you, love."  Mariam held out her hands.

"Mom!  I am not sick.  No fever."  Crystal leaped down from her bed, and scurried to the bathroom.

"My head is hurting again."  Crystal murmured after returning from the bathroom.

"Let me press your head."  Mariam seated herself on the bed, giving her a gentle massage.

Crystal fell asleep instantly.  She was murmuring, Maggy, Maggy, her face transfigured with joy.

Another bleak day with the looming threat of death and surcease!  Crystal was still feverish and restless.  Raving in her sleep, and talking about Magi when awake.  This windy afternoon, Peter had come home early.  Both he and Mariam were plodding toward their daughter's bedroom, weighed down with sorrow.

"How is my little pet?"  Peter asked Mariam before entering Crystal's room.

"Her fever is abating, I think."  Was Mariam's tender response.  She raves, though, in all her waking, sleeping hours.  I heard her just this morning, in her sleep, of course.  O, ye of little faith. O, ye of little faith.  I am partly to blame.  Indulging in all her whims and dreams!  She thinks, Magi is coming this evening."

"Maybe!  He will come!"  Was Peter's thoughtless response, as he entered his daughter's room.  Finding her awake, he summoned a smile. "How is my little pet?"  He kissed her cheek.

"Fine, Dad."  Crystal chirped brightly.  "Did mom tell you, Maggy was here?  He was here, Dad.  My head was hurting.  He put his hand on my head, my hurt went away.  He is coming. I will see his mom.  Mom said, I can!  Can I, Dad?"

"Yes."  Peter murmured, his thoughts distracted beyond reason.

"My head is not hurting anymore."  Crystal continued sprightfully.  "Do you know, Dad, Maggy has a big house, very, very big.  A big lake, a big garden!  I like to—” Her voice was choked by a sudden fit of coughing.

"Here, have some water, love."  Mariam patted her on the back, holding out a glass of water.

"My head is hurting again."  Crystal took one sip, and tossed her head on the pillow.

"Would you like more soup?"  Mariam asked.

"Yes, please."  Crystal sprang up to a couchant position, watching her mother leave.

"I don't understand, Dad, when Maggy puts his hand on my head, my hurt goes away."  Crystal began quickly after her mother was gone to warm the soup.  "I am so happy when I see him. I can play in the snow all day, with him.  He is so nice, Dad.  Very smart, very, very good looking!  You will like him, Dad, won't you?

"Yes, my pet."  Peter murmured feebly.

Mariam returned with a bowl of hot soup in the tray.  This time, Crystal joined her hands in prayer before touching her soup.

"Thank you Lord for all these tender mercies of Thine and for Thy food, Amen."  Crystal's eyes were shining with pride.  "Maggy taught me this prayer."  She attacked her soup ravenously.  "He brought me candy, very, very sweet.  Very good, and we prayed."  She couldn't take another spoonful.  "I am sleepy, I want to—"   She lay back on her pillow, weak and shuddering.

Another day, bright and crystal-clear, but with no hope of light for Peter and Mariam.  Crystal was sleeping and raving in her sleep.  She was rather in a deep, profound swoon, conversing with the angels.  Peter and Mariam were by her side, numb and dazed.  More so with grief and despair, than with fatigue and hopelessness!  Dr. Hazel had just arrived, adding a sliver of hope to this funereal room.

"Maggy is coming!  He is here. See—"   Crystal's voice was jubilant.  "Isn't he nice?  Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad.  Hold my hand, Maggy, Ma—"   A cry of joy sat shuddering on her lips.  Her small body was in convulsions, before it settled down to an imperceptible shudder and then listlessness.

Crystal was warm in her coffin, but the day of her funeral was cold and bright.  The clear, blue skies shimmering like the sheets of ice.  A few stray clouds in the distance were weaving a tapestry in gold lace, but there were famine and desolation in Mariam's heart.  She could not take her eyes off the open casket of her daughter.

My baby, my child!  Gone, gone!  I will never see her, never hear her voice.  She would be so cold here.  Cold and alone!  Alone and friendless, as—the fire of grief in Mariam's heart was ebbing and rippling.

For dust you are and to dust you will return.

The litany of the parson was reaching Mariam.  She stirred as if to snatch her daughter out of this polished casket.  Before she could move, an abrupt thunder from the sky went cleaving through her heart.  Her eyes were lifted to the mirror of cruelty in the sky.  Her gaze suspended there as if searching for something.  A few dark clouds, swollen with tears, were billowing forth with an astonishing speed.  This cold day was slashed with gray, tearless mists.  She was forcing her gaze back to the open casket, but it was arrested on the way to a man of indescribable stature.  In a flash, she had recognized the man, her heart melting inside the fire of disbelief, smoldering and crackling.

This man was no ordinary mortal.  Not a strange mourner.  Neither a hypocrite in tie and suit!  Neither aggrieved, nor grieving.  Certainly not affecting sorrow!  Mariam's sight and thoughts were in swoon.  He was the king, the man-god?  Mourning not the birth of death, but rejoicing at the death of life!  This man was clad in the kingly robe of purest white.  His eyes were as bright as the stars, and his lips as chaste as the heavens.

Maggy. Magi. Christ. Jesus.  Mariam's heart was thundering. She was gazing into the eyes of the Lord.  There were mingling of life and death in those eyes.

Mariam was standing there prisoner to the love and warmth in those eyes.  She was blinded, dazzled.  So awed and humbled was she that she had not noticed Crystal into the arms of this Man, this Savior.  This Friend of the Friendless!  Her sight was restored, her blindness was cured.  The God Himself was holding Crystal into His arms.

Crystal is in me.  In my blood, in the very fibers of my soul!  In the promise of death—in me!  In the prophecy of life—in me!  How can I lose her?  How can I lose a part of my soul?  I have not lost her.  She is with me.  She will be with me, always.  Mariam's thoughts were caught in the rapture of some bliss sublime.

Mariam was beholding the portrait of life. Magi— Crystal, they were illumined, blessed by Christ.  Revealing the purity of love, faith, trust!  The friends eternal, were floating, drifting, and sailing together.

Suddenly, the clouds with tear-streaked eyes were harnessing the sun in its own chariot of gold.  The rain was singing hymns to the Lord.  The thunder was humming the songs of love in honor of the bridegroom.  The wind was whispering the promise of peace to the world.

Mariam's eyes were flooding with tears of joy.  The mist-clouds in her thoughts were pouring bliss.  Her anguish was fleeing, her sorrow and bitterness melting.  Peter was leading her toward the shelter of the trees, where their car was parked.  The rain was pouring in torrents.  The cold, stinging wind was raging and whistling.  Yet, Mariam was oblivious to this stabbing fury in nature.  Her sacredness within was awakening.  She was listening to the holy songs from the very lips of her soul and psyche.

 

Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.