Pansy and Jack
Pansy and Jack
The Faith that Carried them through the Storm
A long night lay before her. Dark clouds had been gathering all day and Pansy was afraid. She stood alone in the garden and watched as the sun slipped behind the bluffs in the west. Her bright smile faded with the afternoon. Turning her face downward and drawing her pink bonnet close, she hoped that she would survive the oncoming storm.
Her gloom spread across the garden and into the woods. Though alone and anxious, her plight was not unobserved. Behind a young tree at the edge of the forest, Jack watched her. Prepared for the coming torrent, he retreated deeper into his cloak. His feet firmly planted on the ground, he was safe from the approaching storm, but he ached to comfort and protect little Pansy.
Jack was new at his job at the edge of the forest. He stood each day in his green and white striped podium guarding this small parcel of land. He looked out from the forest each morning and watched the pretty little lady, as she opened her bonnet and smiled at the morning sun. She loved to raise her arms and dance in the gentle breeze.
Jack felt the air cool, as the wind whistled through the trees. Watching Pansy tremble, her arms drawn to her sides, he began to hum a tune, his eyes watching the little garden and Pansy.
The melody caught the current of air and was carried to the garden, its soothing tones touching Pansy. She raised her fragile head and listened. “Who is singing?” her tiny voice asked. She saw only a flurry of leaves, tumbling across the yard. Turning her head into the breeze, she waited and listened. “Jack was singing, that boy in the woods,” she whispered. “Jack,” she cried.
Jack sang out, hoping that the wind would carry his words to the garden.
Though clouds have come and night is near
I promise you will not be alone.
Hang on to my song sweet daughter of light
Hang on as the heavens doth moan.
Morning will come; I promise you that
You will then lift quivering eyes
As you look for the rainbow look also for me
You will be saved from the storm’s daunting cries.
Jack was standing strong behind the trees. If only she could run to his side. She would be safe. She shyly waved and smiled, then closed her arms quickly for the storm was upon them. The wind howled picking up speed as it raged across the little garden. Pansy hung on, her feet wedged in the ground. She tried to remember Jack’s voice and his soothing melody. A rainbow, something about a rainbow. Pulling her bonnet close she huddled there in the garden.
A long time ago, Pansy had a family. Dozens of cousins with bright bonnets sang and danced with her in the garden. Strangers, big and strong tried to overtake them; they were always chased away. Time passed and sadly, one by one, her cousins disappeared until one day, Pansy stood alone.
The storm drew close and the wind and dark clouds pushed through Pansy’s garden. All night long, the storm’s wrath swept across the land. Bolts of lightning lit up the sky and thunder exploded behind the clouds. Pansy braced herself as the rain plummeted its heavy drops against her fragile body. Sticks and leaves attacked her as the wind hurled them at her. Peeking out from her bonnet, she watched as her quiet home turned from a pleasant garden to a lake of raging water. Mud splashed up and struck her face. Her feet sodden and heavy, she felt her legs weaken.
Jack, safe behind his tree, held onto his mantle. He watched Pansy fight the torrent. “Hang on my love. Soon it will be over,” he whispered.
Her strength spent, Pansy began to loosen her grip. Her arms slid to her sides, the wind catching them at last. “I cannot win this fight.” she cried, and turned her back to the tempest. One final whip from the wind and she fell. Her ruffled bonnet, her lovely smile plunged to the soggy earth.
Jack screamed through the roar. “Pansy!” Tears puddled in his eyes. He bent his head low and he prayed. His prayer, heard only by the Angels and by God, floated out beyond the storm. “My dearest Lord, I ask you on this night of upheaval and fright, that you protect little Pansy and carry her through the horror of this night.” Alone in the forest, he felt the calm. He heard an answer. He opened his eyes. “Morning has come,” he sighed. He watched through the trees as daylight drew near. The eastern sky shot beams of radiance from the horizon. Jack turned and searched for little Pansy.
Her body was spattered with mud, battered with twigs and leaves. Jack held his breath, closing his eyes not wanting to know of her plight. All was still; moments passed. Jack opened his eyes and pushed his cloak back. There was movement in that muddy corner of land.
Pansy lifted her head. Trying to find strength, she raised herself to her knees, wiping the mud from her eyes. Blinking, she sighed and tried to stand. She sank to the earth. Remembering Jack, she looked toward the forest. “Jack, are you there?” her voice was weak. “Jack?”
Jack, restrained by his pulpit, cried to her. “Pansy, Pansy, you made it. Try to stand, morning has come and the calm has returned.”
Another moment and she was standing. Her arms stretched and opened to greet the daylight. Her eyes met Jacks and they smiled. Though they were far apart, Pansy in her garden, Jack in the forest, together they bowed their heads and gave thanks to God for seeing them through the storm. Raising their heads they watched as a great bow full of color arched across the sky.
Dawn’s light was at hand and with it came warmth and sunshine.
Copyright by Kathleen M. Brosius - March, 2011
