There were ten of the boys and Isaiah, the one he was cradling tonight was the youngest and smallest of them all. Tonight Isaiah was sick, not for illness or anything but for wont of food. The famine had raged across the village and had squeezed the orphanage of all it had and tonight she was claiming to take away one of his own.
He looked at the little boy in his arms and the large eyes and slender frame looked back and whispered fraily.
'Poppa when are we goin' 'tu-yit'?
A large tear plopped from George's eyes and broke on the small one's forehead. George had never lied to the boys before, He was devout as any Christian would be but tonight he had to keep hope alive for the boys in the room who all sat in different corners staring at him, and particularly, isaiah whose frame he could feel withering in his arms.
He had told them God would be bringing food and like children will they had had no reason to doubt him.
The first fruits of his tears ran into a steady harvest as he cried tears he could not utter or reveal in the grey darkness of the room.
'Please God, he prayed, send us food'
Anthony Reed could not sleep. He kept tossing and turning in his bed. He just could not figure out why. Was it the ale? or was it the fact that his wife had left him barely a week ago without any indication of where she was going?
All sorts of ideas ran through his head but he could not place it. So he got up, slapped on a shirt and strode into the night, walking casually into his barn and in the dark, saddling the horse he first set his eyes upon. Abbey, groaned a bit as the reins tore into his sleeping hide. 'where was the master off to tonight he would have asked had Anthony been Ballam.
Anthony kicked the horse's side and rode it off with an echoing clatter into the grey of the night, hoping to ride out the frustrations he could feel but could not explain as he saddled top speed toward the dying village that was about to sleep the sleep of hunger.
The famine that year had been the worst in his twenty seven years of existence and had it not been that he had planted more grains than potatoes, he would have also been in most of the villagers shoes. He thought about the incidence and the mistake that had made him plant more grains and he could not help but feel a hand of providence in tweaking fate in his favor as unreligious as he was.
He had not ridden for long when he passed the orphanage. Usually he would hear the noises of the little kids at play or the chiding of good ol miller but tonight, it was like the orphanage had died.
No light shone from its rickety casement nor happy voice from the interior of the lonley hut. looking back, he slowed the horse to a halt and turned back, allowing the horse to walk at it will as he thought for a moment.
Maybe it was the famine? Then he remembered that he had gone to trade a sack of corn in the market earlier that day and had not sold it all for he had planned to sell in such quantities as would make him rich whilst not exhausiting his store no matter how long the famine lasted.
As he was thinking, the horse can to a stop outside the door of the orphanage. Anthony wondered if he should go back home, when he realized that he had not unstrapped what was left of the sack from the horse. Tied to the side of the saddle was the remainder as he had left it that afternoon. climbing down quickly, he unstrapped the parcel and dropped it in a heap at the door of the orphange and rode away into the yawning darkness beyond the grey.
All sorts of ideas ran through his head but he could not place it. So he got up, slapped on a shirt and strode into the night, walking casually into his barn and in the dark, saddling the horse he first set his eyes upon. Abbey, groaned a bit as the reins tore into his sleeping hide. 'where was the master off to tonight he would have asked had Anthony been Ballam.
Anthony kicked the horse's side and rode it off with an echoing clatter into the grey of the night, hoping to ride out the frustrations he could feel but could not explain as he saddled top speed toward the dying village that was about to sleep the sleep of hunger.
The famine that year had been the worst in his twenty seven years of existence and had it not been that he had planted more grains than potatoes, he would have also been in most of the villagers shoes. He thought about the incidence and the mistake that had made him plant more grains and he could not help but feel a hand of providence in tweaking fate in his favor as unreligious as he was.
He had not ridden for long when he passed the orphanage. Usually he would hear the noises of the little kids at play or the chiding of good ol miller but tonight, it was like the orphanage had died.
No light shone from its rickety casement nor happy voice from the interior of the lonley hut. looking back, he slowed the horse to a halt and turned back, allowing the horse to walk at it will as he thought for a moment.
Maybe it was the famine? Then he remembered that he had gone to trade a sack of corn in the market earlier that day and had not sold it all for he had planned to sell in such quantities as would make him rich whilst not exhausiting his store no matter how long the famine lasted.
As he was thinking, the horse can to a stop outside the door of the orphanage. Anthony wondered if he should go back home, when he realized that he had not unstrapped what was left of the sack from the horse. Tied to the side of the saddle was the remainder as he had left it that afternoon. climbing down quickly, he unstrapped the parcel and dropped it in a heap at the door of the orphange and rode away into the yawning darkness beyond the grey.
George Miller heard the horse clatter, come to a halt, then a pause, a gradual trot, a thud and a quick gallop that faded out almost as soon as it'd started. He did not know what to make of it. He had not been one to recieve visitors at such odd hours. Especially one that rode in in the night and rode away so quickly. The children were scared and the older ones had ran to him from the nooks and crannies of the room where they all perched. They huddled closer to him and Isaiah on the rocking chair in which he cradled the child.
They all waited for what seemed a long time to see if there would be any more sounds but none came. The night beyond thier rickety casement had returned to its unassuming calmness.
Then Isaiah the feeble one spoke with a wan smile on his face, in a little more lively tone than he had all night. 'God must have brought the food'.
George Miller broke into uncontrollable tears to the chagrin of the children. He had never broken down in thier presence before. Not even when his helper and wife, who mothered all the children with her own had taken ill and died. He had simply explained to the children that she had gone to wait in heaven for them all. But tonight, the grief was much more than he could conceal. How Miller cried!
Slowly, Will, the oldest of the children walked to the door and inched it open out of curiousity. George did not notice in his bowed grief as the boy opened the door even wider pulling in the sack Anthony Reed had left at thier doorpost.
Putting his hands into the bag and scoopingup a handful of corn, he shouted.
'Poppa, Poppa, Isaiah is right. God has brought the food!'
George Miller raised his head in fear. Fear for what? He did not know. But as he saw the grains slide continously from Will's hands into the sack and the now happy throng of children running to the door to see the manna, his resolve fell apart and he cried hopelessly. Like the day he was born: Like he had never done before.
Anthony Reed got home that night knowing why he had not been able to sleep and for the first time in a long while he slept like he would on his dying day.
They all waited for what seemed a long time to see if there would be any more sounds but none came. The night beyond thier rickety casement had returned to its unassuming calmness.
Then Isaiah the feeble one spoke with a wan smile on his face, in a little more lively tone than he had all night. 'God must have brought the food'.
George Miller broke into uncontrollable tears to the chagrin of the children. He had never broken down in thier presence before. Not even when his helper and wife, who mothered all the children with her own had taken ill and died. He had simply explained to the children that she had gone to wait in heaven for them all. But tonight, the grief was much more than he could conceal. How Miller cried!
Slowly, Will, the oldest of the children walked to the door and inched it open out of curiousity. George did not notice in his bowed grief as the boy opened the door even wider pulling in the sack Anthony Reed had left at thier doorpost.
Putting his hands into the bag and scoopingup a handful of corn, he shouted.
'Poppa, Poppa, Isaiah is right. God has brought the food!'
George Miller raised his head in fear. Fear for what? He did not know. But as he saw the grains slide continously from Will's hands into the sack and the now happy throng of children running to the door to see the manna, his resolve fell apart and he cried hopelessly. Like the day he was born: Like he had never done before.
Anthony Reed got home that night knowing why he had not been able to sleep and for the first time in a long while he slept like he would on his dying day.
OIO
What a sweet miracle, providence or God?
ReplyDeleteMy! This was a touching story.
ReplyDeleteHe told the kids God was bringing them food and even though he himself barely believed it, God came though!
This is awesome!!