A Friend's Comfort

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.

Happy Pentecost, remember we always have and always will be in the care of the Father's nurture.