Deep in the Well of Prayers Part 2

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!”