Faith

Faith

The room is unfamiliar. I've no idea how I got here. All I know is my head's throbbing, and it's freezing!

Listening intently, I hear silence. No footsteps or voices. No clues that can help me identify my strange, new surroundings. Being blind from infancy, I rely on my hearing, especially if I’m alone. Like now.

Realizing I'm not bound in any way, I slowly start to rise into a sitting position. As the throbbing increases, I quickly lie down again on what I now recognize as a cold, stone floor. Reaching as far as I can, I feel only smooth stone. Worst of all, try as I might, I can't recall any previous events. My mind is like a dry, bottomless well full of emptiness.

Deciding to explore further, I cautiously walk around the edge of the room, hand trailing the rough wall. Presently, I encounter a door. All right, I now realize I'm in a small room, without windows. I turn the metal handle, to no avail. Tugging, I kick the door; still it refuses to budge! Then, my fingers locate a keyhole. Pretty useless without a key! I retrace my steps back around the entire room. Bang! My knee hit something metal. Crouching, I discover a metal bucket with a wide opening. Next to that, is a rolled-up blanket. Great! Somehow, I’m trapped in a room with locked doors, without memory, not even my name.

Pacing around the room again, I unsuccessfully try each door, all are locked! Returning to my blanket, I sank down, shivering with a combination of fear and dread. Curling up on the floor with the blanket for warmth, my mind heavy with unanswered questions, I fall into an exhausted sleep.

Clink, clink. The unexpected noise jolts me from my sleep. Listening, I note the sound's coming from one of the locked doors. Heart racing, I hear an unfamiliar voice, “Hannah. Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Who are you? Can you please come in?" I answer desperately.

"No. This door will be opened twice daily, your meals will be pushed through. Understood?" Running towards the door from where the voice is speaking, I ask, "Lady, is Hannah my name?" Pressing my ear against the door, I hear the key being removed, then her footsteps quickly receding. My foot bumps against something metal. Kneeling down, I find a bowl, cold to the touch. Carrying it back to my blanket, I greedily drink the contents—a sort of lumpy, lukewarm gruel-like substance. Grimacing, I pace the room once more. Back and forth, back and forth. I count one hundred steps from one wall to the other. Then, I begin the pacing again.

After relieving myself in the bucket, I sit on my blanket, trying to think. Could my name really be Hannah? And who is that strange lady? Will I ever have answers?

That night, I have a dream. I'm walking through a city crowded with livestock and people. I'm being pushed along by the throng, sometimes clutching on to strangers' hands for guidance. Around me, I hear excited murmurings about a man named Jesus. Who? Still not comprehending any of this, I allow myself to be guided to a quiet hill. Everyone seats themselves upon the grass, and a man (I assume Jesus) began speaking. His voice carried out to all of us as he talked about a farmer who scattered seeds, some grew into trees, but an enemy planted weed seed as well. That's what heaven will be like; the good people are the seeds, the evil ones are the weeds which will be burned. The evil people will be thrown into a fiery furnace." He concluded.

We were all a bit hungry by this time, so Jesus found food for us. A boy in the crowd had only some bread and seven fish. Jesus distributed the food to all of us! Once the meal was finished, there were twelve basketfuls left over. Then, we departed, going our separate ways. I somehow found myself at my mother's house.

I awake, drenched in a cold sweat. Not like a terrifying nightmare, more like a revelation! Brushing my long damp hair out of my eyes, I lie still, until my breathing eases somewhat. Hannah! That's who I am! My memory's slowly returning. I'm remembering what led me here. All of it!

Miriam! I recall our first meeting ’’’

I was guided to a spot near the temple, burning incense lingering in the air. I sat on the hard ground, waiting for passersby to approach. Presently, footsteps stop nearby, I felt coins dropping into my palm. Taking a deep breath, I begag talking about Jesus. A sizable crowd gathered, judging by their many voices. "Liar!" Someone shouted. The bystanders jeered, some throwing coins at me. I managed to remain calm as I explained that, although I've never seen Jesus, his disciples had witnessed his miracles and heard his teachings. Many had been present at his horrific crucifixion, then seen his miraculous return. "Then, there's Dorcas." I pressed. I heard mutterings of "Who?" and "Never heard of her." So, I told about Dorcas, our neighbor who'd sewn clothes for my family and others. Jesus had healed her, when she'd been near death.

As I was relating these events, a sharp stone grazed my face. Crying in shock, I touched the stinging place, and felt a smear of blood. Scrambling to my feet, attempting to run, I nearly stumbled, when someone gently tugged my hand. "Hello. I'm Miriam. Let's get your wound seen to. You're welcome to come to my house." She had the most pleasant voice I'd ever heard. Smiling, I allowed her to guide me away from the noisy throng, many of whom still hurling stones and insults of `Liar.` and `Beggar.` at me.

Through here. You're safe." Miriam opened the door, and I enter a room with a crackling fire in it. I smell bread baking, and woodsmoke. Under my feet, I feel a soft carpet of some sort. "Please sit. Now, what's your name?"

We talked for many minutes before Miriam said, "I believe you. This man Jesus existed, then died, just like the disciples have claimed. The Pharisees disapproved of his teachings because his disciples were saying he was the one true God. Also, he cured the sick, and raised many from the dead." She continued, as the fire crackled. As we talked, she bustled around, preparing supper. It was delicious—goat, bread, and dates. As night fell, we slept on woven mats. She was right, I felt safe; I was also overjoyed that I'd met another believer.

We visited our friends' houses first, sharing Jesus's teachings. With mild interest, they listened, but weren't sure whether to take us at our word. On certain days, Miriam would escort me to our usual place by the roadside near the temple. As strangers approached, occasionally dropping coins into my hands, I shared the Messiah's story. Harder to convince, they'd heard of this man Jesus who could perform miracles; however, they kept insisting his teachings were false.

The soldiers came for us on a bright morning; I could only suppose our spreading the news had gotten out somehow. The king's men weren't thrilled with many people preaching, so they were jailing anyone they could, including a man named Paul, who'd been a tax collector himself.

Knock, knock. In a deep sleep, I was aroused by men's angry voices. I heard the thump of boots crossing the wooden floor. Hurriedly, I dressed, not wanting to be found otherwise. Bang. Not a moment too soon. The door burst open, I was roughly dragged from my room. Where will they take us?

Before I could inquire further, Miriam and I were forced to walk for miles, the gritty dust of the road sifting on our sandals and settling in our hair. The long trek put me in mind of our journeys across the city. Only this wasn't nearly as pleasant.

"Keep up!" A soldier snarled, jabbing my side with his sharp weapon. Gritting my teeth, I silently trudged along, dread filling my soul! As we traveled, I inhaled the unpleasant odors of sweat and animals. My ears picked up the market hubbub—people haggling over spices and other goods, pack animals being herded, and children running about. With a pang, I realized I wouldn't be exchanging news with neighbors for a long time. As if reading my thoughts, Miriam heaved a resigned sighed.

"This way." The soldier quickened his pace, us struggling to keep up. I nearly stumbled, but Miriam's hand prevented me falling, just like at our first meeting. We walked through a gate and across stone, most likely through a courtyard. I heard birds singing, and the sun was still warm, so I had to assume it was most likely midday.

"You. Come with me." A soldier roughly dragged me through a door, along a stone hall, and down some steps.

⠠⠞⠄⠎ when my memory became muddled. I realize now. Where's Miriam? Is she nearby? Or even alive?

The next morning (I think) I hear the familiar knock again. As soon as the food's through, I ask about Miriam. "She's wearing a blue dress with a sash." I shout through the gap. No reply. I pass the day in prayer, awaiting her return.

"No news," Those are her first words to me, "Here's your dinner. Give me your bucket. Who are you mumbling to?" She inquires next, seeing my mouth moving.

"Praying to God you'll find Miriam." I answer as calmly as I can.

"No one hears prisoners. Go to sleep!" Just like that, she's gone.

 "Jesus performed miracles, like healing the sick." I say, speaking through the narrow gap in my cell as another meal's slid through.

"How can you be sure? You didn't meet him, right?" The lady's voice is mildly curious, but still brusque. When I answer in the negative, she continues, "You're basing these claims on the word of men who witnessed this Jesus dying, then he supposedly rose from the grave. Explain how that's possible." Her tone is heavy with skepticism. But, she's listening. Licking my lips, I recount Mary Magdalene's joyful encounter when he'd first appeared to her. I hear silence as I finish. Is she even there? "Hello!" I call. Again, ringing silence.

Defeated, I kneel by my pallet. How can I get through to her? To make her believe you are the one true Messiah? I pray.

I've no contact with anyone from the outside. With no sign of Miriam, and my jailer refusing to speak to me. All I have is faith that God will see me through this trial. I'm definitely in a valley. Trying not to fall into despair, I recall another song. Peace will come, your prayers will be answered. I remind myself.

"Enough in there!" A gruff but well-known voice hisses through my door. It's another day, and I was in the middle of another childhood song. Hurrying over, I kneel down. "I've been telling you, stop that singing! The others wouldn't approve." Sliding another unappetizing meal towards me, she departs, keys jangling. Emboldened by her response, I sing louder, raising my voice to Heaven. He can hear me!

Creak! What was that? Turning my head, my body tenses at the unfamiliar sound; at the same time, something like joy fills my heart. "Hannah, stand up." Trembling, I stand on wobbly legs. Next thing I know, my jailer's guiding me out the cell door, back through the stone courtyard. The sun feels pleasantly like warm breath, a change after months of breathing stagnant air. "Here she is. Now go." Pushing me forward, I'm suddenly alone. "Hannah!" A pair of arms embraces me tightly. Sobbing, Miriam and I silently hold each other. Sadly, I notice how emaciated her body has become, practically a skeleton. Just like mine. I think.

"Shall we return home?" I ask.

"No. Nothing remains there but heartache and pain. Let's see where our journey takes us." Taking her hand, we set out.

The End