The quasi-exciting conclusion to my opus Deep in the Well of Prayers written for last year's Okefenokee writing contest, Oh, well. If nothing else, it was fun to write.
New Life Baptist Church, at an emergency vigil:
Oh, dear Jesus, heavenly father, we give you all
the glory for this beautiful world, this church and faith community who preach
your word and gather more souls to you, we give you thanks for helping Timmy be
found. Now we pray to all the police and
firefighters and first responders in helping Timmy get out of that deep and
terrible well. Just like the deep and
terrible well our whole country finds itself in, with all the evil perpetrated
by liberals and godless heathens, leading this great nation astray from its
core Christian virtues. We can rescue
Timmy and we can rescue this great nation, with your will, your assurance and
your love. Amen.
They didn’t know what to do.
Every time they got close, they felt the opening cave in a bit. Timmy would be buried if they weren’t
careful. They brought in a vehicle with
a rope and winch, but had trouble getting it close.
Grandma’s prayer circle were so many, that they had started
circling up outdoors, a hundred or more holding hands. Little Lucinda Cartwright, Timmy’s
three-year-old sister, clutched her rag doll on the porch, watching the
circle. She felt sad, and decided she
needed to do something.
Little Lucinda, praying in her bedroom, hands
folded, leaning against her bed:
God!
Jesus! You love me! This I
know! And Timmy too! What you want me to do? I ready to help! JUST TELL ME!
Thousands of people, churchy or not, all over Dixon County, joined
in prayer and hope. Some posted on
Facebook and social media, and the prayers were coming in from all over the
world.
They finally got a rope down the well, but Timmy did not seem to
be grabbing it. For some reason, he
wasn’t grabbing it.
Little Timmy in the well:
Oh, Christ almighty! I’m so scared. This rope scares me! What if it starts an aver-ranch, or I get
stuck and it pulls me in half? I don’t
know what to do! Please tell me what to
do! I won’t never throw no rocks at
Pepper Gibson no more! I swear!
As his Daddy and the fireman and others tried to encourage Timmy
to take the rope, they didn’t notice little Lucinda come up. Before they could stop her, she had thrown
several things down the well’s small opening.
They called her back and she ran back into her father’s arms. “Lucinda!” he cried out. “What were you doing? That was very dangerous?”
She patted Daddy on the back, “It’s okay, Daddy.” She hugged him and whispered to him, “It’s
all going to be hunky-dory now. Jesus told me to do it.”
It was then they heard the thunder.
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, at the Bishop’s
called vigil for every church in the diocese:
Our father, bless this family and those working so
hard to rescue Timmy. Give them the
strength and courage to see it through, and let your love and hope shine upon
them. In the name of the father, son and
Holy Ghost, we pray. Amen.
Their prayers echoed across the planet. And now they were begging for the rains to
hold off.
They did not. Lighting
struck the winch, burning out the mechanism and disabling the winch. Volunteers came to grasp the rope, but no one
was sure whether Timmy had put it around him.
As they say in the swamplands, it was now coming up a gully
washer. They watched in horror as the
meadows became saturated, and the water poured into the well.
They pulled at the rope in desperation and it came up empty. They threw it back in, but hope was
fading. The well was filling up and
Timmy would drown.
Everyone everywhere, as the cameras and media
captured the horrifying scene:
Oh dear God/Jesus/Allah/Mother/Spirit, please
bring a miracle and SAVE THIS BOY!
Then suddenly, as the well filled, Timmy came splurting out of the
well! Everyone feared the worst, until
they saw the boy gasping for air! He was
alive! He wasn’t drowned! He looked wet and scared, and there were
strange things on his arms.
Ben hugged his little Lucinda.
“It’s a miracle, sweetie! Timmy
is going to be okay!”
“I know, Daddy,” Lucinda said.
“Jesus told me what Timmy needed, and I brought them to him.”
Ben stroked her hair and stared into her confident face. “And what
was that, Lucinda?”
“Floaties. Jesus told me to
get him some floaties.”
Others around them heard this in awe and wonder. Lucinda turned her head up to the sky, the
rain abruptly stopping. “Thank you,
God!”
The world got to its knees and said, “Amen!”
Thanks! It wasn't a prize winner, but I liked it, and my friend, Grace Lee liked it. And now you like it! So I'm happy!
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