Deborah sat on a bench seat, her back leaning against the
wall, her legs swinging. She did not
want to be in this room full of people.
Some like her father and brothers were standing with their friends, others,
like the two mothers Deborah could see on the other side of the room, were
sitting on bench a bench seat just like the one she sat on, both held sleeping
babies in there arms.
Everyone was quiet. If
they spoke, it was little more than a whisper. The standing people moved, changed their
positions and their friends, so that they could greet another person or family
entering the room.
'He's not here yet, is he?' asked Ruth.
'No, I don't think he is,' said Deborah, wondering how she
would know if the promised friend had arrived.
Deborah did not understand why her parents had insisted they
come here. She had heard her parents
talking between themselves, her father said that the meeting might be very
dangerous. Especially if the temple
elders decided, they should be in the temple, and not with the friends of a man
who was condemned and executed for blasphemy.
Deborah's mother had insisted they go to the meeting, we
know that Jesus is alive she said. We
saw Thomas placing his hands on Jesus body and saw him feel the wounds left by
the nails and spear. You just can't do
that to someone who isn't real. When he
left us to return to the Father, Jesus promised us a friend who would be always
with us, and He asked us to wait together for His friend, her mother had said. Her father had agreed that they needed to go
to the meeting.
Deborah squeezed Ruth's hand. She felt uneasy in her tummy. The adults in the room were too quiet,
normally you could hear someone laugh, but not today, she wished Jesus were
with them.
She remembered what her mother had said, that Jesus was with
His Father, she hoped that everyone was quiet because they missed Jesus and not
because they were afraid the temple elders would find them.
Ruth gently returned the squeeze. Deborah was about to let go of Ruth's hand
when she heard it, she knew Ruth heard it too, her eyes were big brown circles,
and they were sitting closer together.
The wind howled, drowning the quite conversation in the room
like a bucket of water thrown onto a fire.
The window shutters rattled and broke open, the door of the room swung
inward letting in a stream of sunlight.
Deborah let go of Ruth's hands so that she could place her
hands over her ears. A bone rattling
wind was doing battle with the walls and roof of the room. Noise, not wind, something else, exploded in
the room. Deborah took her hands away
from her ears; everyone was speaking and then shouting.
Faces changed, in a blink of an eye, from sad and scared to
happy. A hand tugged Deborah's arm,
'Look at that,' said Ruth, she pointed into the room. Deborah's eyes followed her friend's
finger. She had trouble working out what
her friend was pointing to, Deborah stared, blinked, stared some more, the most
unusual thing she had ever seen in her life.
The room was full of heads that had a hat of tiny fire.
Deborah turned to look at Ruth. 'You have one too', she said.
'So do you', said Ruth.
'What does the fire mean?' asked Deborah as she passed her
hand through a flame that didn't burn her hand.
'Jesus friend must have arrived, who else could make us feel
so happy', said Ruth.
Deborah hugged Ruth, 'I know you're right, I feel wonderful,
let's sing,' said Deborah. 'Hosanna,
hosanna, thank you to the Father, he has sent his Son's friend, Hosanna,
Hosanna. Jesus loves us. Jesus cares for us. Hosanna, Hosanna,' Deborah sang the words
until Ruth knew them, and then they both sang louder and then more people
joined in the song that Deborah and Ruth were singing.
