The Tattoo (This a work of fiction)

I watched as the old woman gently combed the snarls from my four year old's hair. Her face was alight with joy as she combed and my daughter was smiling at the tenderness of her ministrations. To JoEllen this was a delightful change of pace from my quick maneuvers with the brush and comb to bring some kind of semblance to her thick mane after a night’s sleep. Usually she cried, “Mom that hurts, go slower.” and then I would take my time and try to comb out the snarls in a gentler manner.

We ran a Bed and Breakfast, and had visitor’s stay with us from all over the world. Our children were introduced, at an early age, to the pleasures one has of opening their home up to tourist, and then breaking bread with them the next morning.

This sunrise I was peaceful, sipping my coffee as our 82 year old guest, Hannah combed my daughter’s hair. Hannah was a beautiful woman with long hair that graced her shoulders like a silver cloak. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she cooed to my daughter relishing in this unexpected pleasure and I smiled as JoEllen, grinned from ear to ear, looking at me full of bliss.

As Hannah pulled the sides of JoEllen’s hair up and fastened the two pieces atop of her head with a barrette, the sleeve of her blouse slid down by her elbow. JoEllen looked at her arm and with the inquisitiveness of a child asked, “What’s that?” while pointing to a spot on her arm.

Hannah stopped what she was doing to see what JoEllen was referring to. I watched as, for just a moment, a look of pain crossed her lovely features before she shook off where her thoughts had momentarily taken here. Hugging JoEllen to herself she whispered in a heavy accent, “That’s an identification number, my dearest.”

Then looking at me she smiled and proceeded to roll up the sleeve of her blouse before turning her left arm toward me. Tattooed upon the inside of her forearm was a five digit number. I had seen a marking like that before on a Holocaust survivor on the television and my eyes grew wide with the realization that Hannah had lived through the Holocaust. Before I could stop myself, my hand flew to my mouth and I shook my head in dismay because I could not imagine what this woman had gone through.

Oblivious to our exchange, JoEllen looked up at Hannah and asked, “You mean you have a license like our cat?”

Chuckling, Hannah squeezed JoEllen, “You could say it is something like that.”

The screen door in the kitchen opened and my 6 year old son was calling, “Jo Jo.” before the door banged into place.

“In here!” JoEllen yelled, watching as her brother came through the doorway.

With a grin on his face he said, “We did it! We caught a baby Killdeer in our booby trap! Dad wants you to see it, before he cuts the strings and lets it go. Come on we have to hurry!”

Turning to Hannah, JoEllen threw her arms around the old woman, “Thank you for combing my hair so nice!” Hannah hugged her back and kissed her cheek, and then in a dash, JoEllen chased her brother out of the house.

My gaze followed my children as they left, I was so thankful for them and their father. Turning my attention back to the woman who graced my living room with her presence, I shook my head, “Oh, Hannah, I cannot even begin to imagine what you went through. I remember the first time I had heard about the Holocaust, it was back in 1978 when a TV Miniseries was done regarding the subject. I was 14 years old and glued to the television every evening it was on. It astonished me that humans could do such atrocities. I was dumbfounded that one race could think that it was far superior to another. I still struggle to understand race issues of any kind. Did you lose anyone there?”

Hannah stared at me for a moment as if debating what and how much to share, before smiling and tilting her head to the side. “I lost all my family there. My parents, my siblings, many relatives, my husband and our three little girls, they were all murdered in Hitler’s camps.” She sat wringing her hands in her lap. “I was 31 and strong, so I was placed in a work camp where I managed to live, no not live, survive until our release. What we went through was not living.” She said shaking her head. “We were on auto pilot you might say. There was no living going on there, there was just . . . surviving.”

I swiped at a tear, embarrassed by my emotion. “How did you survive?”

She smiled and lifted up her left arm to me, showing me her tattoo again. “By this I survived. By what the numbers tattooed into my flesh, came to mean to me. At first I felt so violated by them, so . . . defiled by the vulgarity of being numbered like livestock, that for days, I tried to scrub it off, but to no avail. Then one night, as I lay on the wooden bed provided for me to rest, I saw in my mind, my mother admonishing me to memorize three Praises or as you call them Psalms. She was telling my siblings and me, that these three Praises would take us through life wherever it may lead. So in her teachings to us, she made sure that every day we repeated the three back to her until they were memorized. You see that my number is 20123. Well the three Praises I had to memorize were Psalms 20, 12, and 3 in that very order, my mother made me memorize them.” Tears were in the corner of her eyes as she grinned at me.

I jumped up and grabbed my bible turning quickly to Psalms 20. I read it aloud.

“The LORD hear thee in the day of trouble; the name of the God of Jacob defend thee;2Send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen thee out of Zion; 3Remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt sacrifice; Selah. 4Grant thee according to thine own heart, and fulfil all thy counsel. 5We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners: the LORD fulfil all thy petitions. 6Now know I that the LORD saveth his anointed; he will hear him from his holy heaven with the saving strength of his right hand. 7Some trust in chariots and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the LORD our God. 8They are brought down and fallen: but we are risen, and stand upright. 9Save, LORD: let the king hear us when we call.”

I looked at Hannah and she nods and says, “Read chapter 12.” So I flip there and read.

“1Help, LORD; for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children of men. 2They speak vanity every one with his neighbour: with flattering lips and with a double heart do they speak. 3The LORD shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things: 4Who have said, With our tongue will we prevail; our lips are our own: who is lord over us? 5For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the LORD; I will set him in safety from him that puffeth at him. 6The words of the LORD are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times. 7Thou shalt keep them, O LORD, thou shalt preserve them from this generation forever. 8The wicked walk on every side, when the vilest men are exalted.”

“Now finish with number three.”

“1Lord, how are they increased that trouble me! Many are they that rise up against me. 2Many there be which say of my soul, there is no help for him in God. Selah. 3But thou, O LORD, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. 4I cried unto the LORD with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. Selah. 5I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the LORD sustained me. 6I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people that have set themselves against me round about. 7Arise, O LORD; save me, O my God: for thou hast smitten all mine enemies upon the cheek bone; thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly. 8Salvation belongeth unto the LORD: thy blessing is upon thy people. Selah.”

Closing my bible and laying it aside, I dug into the pocket of my jeans for a tissue. Blowing my nose and wiping at the tears running down my cheeks, I sat there in wonderment at what was revealed to me. “Oh my goodness, Hannah, do you know how much God loves you?”

Nodding her head and using a dainty handkerchief that she pulled from her purse, she grinned, “That I do my darling that I do. When I realized, that many years before the camps and our imprisonment, the Lord had put it on my mother’s heart to teach me those Praises, I was undone by His goodness and mercy toward me. I would not have survived the Holocaust if not for those Praises and this tattoo. It is a badge of honor to me now, an unending proof of the love of God toward His people.”

I spoke before really thinking, “I find it amazing that after all you went through, losing so many loved ones senselessly, you still believe in God’s love.”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and then opening them, fixed her gaze upon mine. “Oh there were plenty of times when I was bitter, hurt, and angry at Him and swore I would never speak of Him again, but just like all those years before when He had my mother insist on us learning those Praises for such a time as this, He would show me kindness through another prisoner, an insect, a bird, or even a guard and I would know that though this ghastly experience was taking place, I was never far from His thoughts, and I could go on knowing that.”

The screen door in the kitchen opened up and banged shut as JoEllen came running in, carrying a small feathery bundle in her tiny hands, with her brother right behind her. “Mummy, look at what we caught!” she said grinning.

Opening her hands up at her thumbs, she allowed the Killdeer chick to pop his feathery little head out, and peep. “Mummy, isn’t he the cutest thing ever?”

I watched as my daughter’s brown eyes twinkled with joy and excitement over having caught this little fellow and my heart missed a beat. Kyle leaned forward, just as keyed up as his sister, and rubbed the little chicks head. “He was caught good in our trap, but dad made us clean it up, since it would have been sad if he had gotten caught in it when we were not around. Dad said he would have been cat bate for the town cats that roam around at night. That would not have been good.”

“No, that would not have been good.” I said. “But it is very exciting that you really did catch something in your booby trap.”

Both children nodded their heads readily in agreement and as Hannah leaned forward to rub the chick’s head, JoEllen turned to give her better access.

Without looking at me Hannah spoke as she gently stroked the feathers of the little bird, “Just as this creature was caught in a trap and then released by their father, I too was once held captive for many years in the snare of my enemy and then my Father set me free.” Sitting back on the couch she relaxed into its cushions sighing, content.

Craig called from the back porch to the kids, “Hey you two, it’s time to let him go, his mamma is out here in the yard calling for him.”

“Awe, do we have to let him go already?” asked Kyle.

“Come on you two, his mamma is worried about him. We have to set him free.” answered Craig.

Kyle turned to JoEllen, “Can I hold him now, before we let him go?”

JoEllen nodded her head and passed off the prize into Kyle’s capable hands. Both walked very slow to the door, wanting to savor the unexpected pleasure as long as they could.

“Kelly, never take for granted one moment of your time with your loved ones. Treasure each day as if it is your last. Be thankful always, for everything you walk through, because all things are working together toward a larger picture. Trust God even when it is difficult because just as He told Joshua, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’ He tells us the same and we can believe that.”

“Oh Hannah, I so appreciate you and all that you have shared with me today. I will not take my family for granted and I will give thanks for them always and all things. You have blessed our home with your presence, your history, and your wisdom and I am grateful that the Inns had no room and you ended up here.”

Laughing at that statement, Hannah said, “Me too my darling, me too.”

I leaned forward and warmed up our coffee from the carafe on the table in front of the sofa, and then we raised our cups in a salute to the past, to the present, and to the future, but mostly I raised my cup in a salute to the beautiful woman God had blessed my life with, if only for a weekend. She was a treasure of untold worth, and I had the awesome privilege of beholding her with my heart.

Someone's Playing the Radio

 As I kneel in my garden, pulling tenacious blades of grass from the Thyme, I find myself humming along to a song that is in my head, “By the Light”, by the group, Harvest Sound. 

With each utterance of the verse, “By the light of my Jesus, my soul will rise” I find that the laborious job I am doing is not just about completing a task but changing the atmosphere where I live.  I am removing items from my Thyme that can strangle the very life out of it, if allowed, and as I focus on the truth in the words I sing, the duty at hand does not seem as daunting, in fact it is quite rewarding.

How many times does the cares of this world, steal away the preciousness of the moment.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow, we may only have today, so as we go through this life, which can at times be filled with some of the most obstinate weeds ever, we must remember to fix our eyes on the Light of the world, for in doing that, our souls will rise above the mundane, and allow us to soar like eagles upon the very breath of God, reaching heights unknown.

Someone was playing the radio that day. The Holy Spirit, who wanted to show me a simple truth.  Thank You Father for ears to hear and a heart to receive what You were saying to me.