Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: HANDIWORK (01/14/21)
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TITLE: God's Pattern of Hope | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sandra Fischer
01/19/21 -
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“Hope?” She spoke the name as a half-question, half-praying it was a stranger with the same birthmark.
Hope opened her eyes and stared. Nothing else on her face moved.
Cassie swallowed, blinked and smiled, “Hope, it’s me, Cassie. I’m here, just like I promised.”
Silence. Stare. It’s been too long. She doesn’t remember me.
Cassie took her hand; it was cold and limp.
“You found her,” Miss Ida whisked into the room. “Sorry I wasn’t here to see you in.”
Hope’s eyes shifted to Miss Ida, her caretaker. Cassie thought she saw a faint glimmer, like she was expecting something from Miss Ida.
Her hand began to tremble in Cassie’s.
“Is she okay?”
“Tremors are part of the disease’s progression. Would you like me to help her sit in the chair so you can visit?”
“Only if you think she wants to.”
Hope’s eyes shifted from Miss Ida to the chair.
“I think she’d like that. Okay, Hope, let’s go sit.” Miss Ida put her arms underneath Hope’s and pulled her up.
Cassie winced at the sight of the gaunt figure with sagging skin who stood. Hope looked nothing like the robust, hardy woman who served with her at the mission in India, She looked more like one of the sick, elderly people under their care. Had it been six months since Hope became ill and returned home? I should have come sooner.
Miss Ida settled Hope into the chair, then turned to Cassie. “I’ll check back later. Just know she hasn’t spoken in a long time. It’s part of the dis. . .”
“Yes, I know.” Cassie stopped her before she could say the dreaded word again. She had read all about the manifestations of Primary Progressive Aphasia, how it was a slow form of dementia that attacked people younger than Alzheimer’s; how it robbed victims of their ability to speak; how it mercilessly captured all their capabilities one by one; how there was no treatment or cure.
Cassie pulled a picture album from her bag and placed it in Hope’s lap. “I brought pictures of the mission weavers. Everyone misses you.”
As Cassie turned the pages, Hope’s eyes went from Cassie to the pictures, then back to Cassie with no sign of recognition or expression.
“Remember how you started the “Women of Hope” group? How you encouraged them to weave scarves to sell so they could have an income and feed their families?”
Hope opened her lips and Cassie thought she’d made a breakthrough. But Hope’s tongue came out just enough to wet her lips and slip back.
“Look, I brought a gift for you. Remember how we told the weavers that God was using their handiwork to weave His love into this cold world?” Cassie pulled the silken piece from her bag and laid it across Hope’s hands.
“Isn’t the pattern beautiful? Mara wove it. Remember her? She chose the colors with great care. The red is Jesus’ precious shed blood. The purple is His majesty, and the gold is glory where He waits for us to join Him. She named it “God’s Pattern of Hope.”
Hope’s fingers moved and began stroking the scarf. She closed her eyes and swayed. Cassie thought she might be picturing the shuttle moving back and forth in Mara’s hands, giving life to the piece, crafting love into the exquisite pattern of silken threads.
Hope opened her eyes. They met Cassie’s and she saw them sparkle.
“You remember!”
Hope nodded. Cassie cradled Hope’s face and cried, “Thank you, Lord!” Hope nodded again.
*******
Six months later Cassie returned for Hope’s memorial. Miss Ida was there. She approached Cassie after the service, handing her a tissue-wrapped item.
“She left this for you.”
The multi-colored scarf fell from the tissue. “But how. . .?”
“We never know what they know. She always kept it with her. The day she died, she pointed to the album and your picture, then handed me the scarf. I swear she smiled.”
Cassie pressed the scarf to her face, inhaling its fragrance as her tears streamed into it. She whispered a prayer, “Thank you, God, for weaving Hope into so many lives.”
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I wasn't able to see anything that could improve what you have already written :)