Mercy's Rain by Cindy K. Sproles

Author:Cindy K. Sproles [Sproles, Cindy K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8254-7959-5
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2015-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

THE MOUNTAIN FOLK formed a black line of mourning that snaked across the field and past the newly finished barn.

Sawhorse tables lined the yard, and women filled it with bowls of cooked vegetables, ham, chicken, fresh baked breads, and jellies. It looked more like a church picnic than a funeral. Isabella carried Amelia on her back and Melody in her arms. A handkerchief dangled from her fingers. Her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes darkened from the agony of loss. Folks tried to comfort her with kind words and gestures. But I found myself making my way across the field to the base of the mountain. And there, alone and in the shade of the overhanging trees, I stood numb, staring at the two graves. One empty of a body, but filled with memory. The other stuffed to the gill with this child—the second one I’d loved.

“It’s not fair.” My voice cracked. “That little baby did nothing but fight to live.”

“I know.” A soft voice spoke. When I turned there was Isabella. She’d followed me back to the graves. In her grief, she tried to comfort me.

“I hate God for this. I hate Him,” I mumbled. I didn’t mean for Isabella to hear it, but she did. She turned me toward her and raised her finger to my face.

“Mercy, this ain’t the cruelty of God, it’s His mercy.”

“Mercy? Taking an innocent child?”

“No. Saving an innocent child from a life of misery.” Isabella leaned against me and sobbed. I grasped her elbows and tried to keep her knees from buckling.

There we stood. Two women. Both suffering loss. Both seeking peace. We must have stood by them graves the better part of an hour, sobbing relentlessly. Grieving, weeping, when Terrance come in search of us.

He scooped Isabella up in the one good arm he had, and pressed his forehead against hers. “Shhh. It’ll be all right.”

But to me, it wasn’t going to be all right. It wasn’t right at all. I’d done all I could to save that youngin. Isabella had too. We all had. I saw no favor in death. Little Angel entered my mind, and for a moment I thought of her loss. Her life snuffed out after her first breath. Better dead than held captive by the devil, I thought. It was then I began to understand Isabella’s thinking. I didn’t forgive the Lord for taking the life of this infant. But I could at least justify the means to the end.

A hand grasped my shoulder and I felt Samuel’s breath against my ear. “They’re playing together in heaven. Angel has a wonderful friend who can tell her all about her mother.”

I tilted my shoulder and dropped Samuel’s hand. “That supposed to make me feel better? That the best a man of the cloth can do?”

“Mercy, I understand your—”

“You understand what, Preacher? What? You tell me what good can come outta the death of two babies.”

“We can’t understand the will of God.”

“Will of God,” I shouted. “Will of God. I understand the will of God.

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