Monday, January 7, 2013
Hope was born under the harvest moon, as a long tailed comet was streaking across the hollow bowl of the big dipper. The superstitious among us called it a sign, a good omen sent by the gods. Hope was a rare jewel, born with ten fingers, ten toes, and two eyes. According to tradition we waited to see if she lived for the passing of three days before she would be examined. So many of the babies do not live that long.
I dared to thank God for His gift of Hope even though the God of Adam and of Isaac and of Abraham had gone out of fashion long ago. There were a dozen or so of us in our small community that still believed. We still had hope, and now we have Hope, with her ten fingers, ten toes, and two eyes.
The faithful prayed over her crib for the three cycles of the Sun, and with the rising of the sun on the fourth day, the Elders and the Wizards of the community came to see for themselves this child with the ten fingers, ten toes, and two eyes. They came, and they saw for themselves, that Hope was still alive.
Hope. People from a different community, driven by jealousy, envy and covetous hearts might hate her for her name alone, for jealousy, envy and covetous hearts are the destroyers of hope. We must shelter her from strangers. If it is discovered by the local Warlord that a pure one has been born to us he would seek to hunt her down and killer her before she grows, before Hope can become a threat to the world’s darkness of spirit.
Here at home she will be loved and nurtured by our community of survivors. As she grows she will learn to read from the Bible. Her Mother and I still have one. My forefathers refused to burn it for light or heat that first horrible winter so many generations ago. I will teach her the difference between straw and hay. Her mother will teach her the difference between weave and woof. The Bible will teach her the difference between right and wrong. The petulance wrought by mankind, to afflict mankind… will teach her about pain and suffering, about life and death.
The medicine woman, wearing an ancient white cap, came and examined the child. Hope was found to be without spot. Glory be unto God, the mark of the petulance was not on her. She would keep her ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes. The Elders spoke to my wife and I. They asked that we have many, many more children in the hope that more, like Hope, would be born into the community. They wanted to know what magic we had that gave us this wondrous child. I showed them the Bible and said, “Hope. Hope sprang forth from the pages of this book, from the hearing of the words herein by my wife and I.”
From that day forward at the dawning of every new day, all the people of the community gathered at Hope’s doorstep, and listened to the reading of the book.
Hope. ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes. Perhaps she is the Savior we have been waiting for.