The Little Sparrows

by Al Lacy

  Johnny was comforted to a degree by his sister’s words. He tried to be brave. “Yes. We’ll do that. And … the Lord will take care of us with Mama and Papa gone.”

  Mary hugged him. “Yes, He will.”

  “We’d better get back inside, Mary. Lizzie needs us.”

  “I’m sure she does. Let’s go.”

  When Mary and Johnny entered the house through the back door and walked past the kitchen toward the parlor, they saw the police officers and Frances Roberts go out the front door.

  “Come on, Johnny,” said Mary, breaking into a run.

  Johnny followed on his big sister’s heels, and they both moved through the door onto the front porch together.

  The officers stopped and turned around, as did Frances, who had Lizzie’s hand in her own. Frances looked at Johnny with concern in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Johnny looked up at her with his reddened eyes. “I’m better, ma’am. Mary helped me. I’m … I’m very sad to know that Mama and Papa won’t be coming home, but Mary made me feel better.”

  Frances pulled him close to her side. “I’m glad, Johnny.” Then she said to Mary, “Thank you, sweetheart, for going to your little brother.”

  In spite of the sadness that was in her heart at the moment, Mary smiled at her, then set her eyes on Johnny. “I had to, Mrs. Roberts, because I love him, and he needed me.”

  Officer Holbrook had misty eyes as he said, “Children, I’m so sorry for this tragedy. I know how terrible it must be for you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Mary.

  “I’m sorry about it too,” put in Officer Demers. “And I’m sure glad you have this kind lady to take care of you right now. We’re going to Pastor Moore’s home immediately to let him know what happened to your parents, and to see if he can find a family in the church who will take you in.”

  The appreciation Mary felt showed in her sky-blue eyes. “Thank you so much for doing what you can to help us.”

  Officer Demers laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s our pleasure, Mary. We wish we could just snap our fingers and make everything all right for you.”

  Mary managed another smile.

  Demers turned to his partner. “Well, Ed, we’d better head for the parsonage.”

  Frances and the children looked on as the officers mounted up. Both men touched the brims of their caps and put their horses to a trot.

  As they turned the corner, Demers said, “Ed, that little Mary is quite the young lady. What marvelous composure she displayed for an eight-year-old.”

  Holbrook nodded. “I’ll say. Indeed she is quite the young lady. She’s hurting every bit as much as her little brother, but she’s keeping it inside for his sake, and no doubt for little Lizzie’s sake too.”

  Standing on the front porch of the house, Frances and the children watched the officers until they passed from view.

  “Let’s go into the parlor,” Frances said.

  When they entered the parlor, Frances sat on the sofa and took Lizzie into her lap. Johnny snuggled up to her on one side, and Mary did the same.

  Frances put an arm around Mary and an arm around Johnny. “Don’t you sweet babies worry. The Lord is going to see that you have a home.”

  “We’ll always miss Mama and Papa, though,” Johnny said.

  “Of course you will, honey. But just think how happy your mama and papa are right now. They are with Jesus. Not only that, but do you realize they are in the presence of all of those beautiful angels?”

  Mary’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of that. Mama and Papa have met Michael and Gabriel, haven’t they?”

  “They sure have. And you know what else?”

  “What?”

  “They are also in the presence of all those wonderful Bible saints like Moses, Daniel, Elijah, Paul, Peter, and John.”

  Johnny’s eyes brightened. “Do you suppose they’ve met Abraham and Sarah?”

  Frances smiled. “I’m sure they have.”

  Mary’s eyes showed a glint. “And just think, Johnny: they’ve met the thief on the cross who got saved. And they’ve met Mary Magdalene and the woman who got saved at the well, and Nicodemus, and Lazarus, Mary, and Martha, and the Philippian jailer and his family. And they’ve met Jesus’ mother, Mary, and Joseph, and John the Baptist … and—and—”

  “The list goes on and on, doesn’t it?” said Frances. “I’m glad this is a comfort to you. And something else—from what your mama and papa told me, both sets of your grandparents are in heaven, along with an uncle and three aunts.”

  Mary nodded. “Uh-huh. And they’re all together, now.”

  “And someday you will see them again,” said Frances. She glanced at the grandfather clock across the room. “Tell you what. It’s almost suppertime. I know you’re probably not feeling hungry after learning about the shipwreck and all, but I know that food helps in any situation. And you have to eat to keep up your strength. How about we go to the kitchen and fix us something to eat?”

  Frances led them into the kitchen, and while she sliced brown bread and cheese and set a kettle of soup to heat up on the stove, Mary and Johnny set the table with Lizzie’s help.

  Mary poured milk in tin cups for herself and her siblings, and Frances brewed a pot of strong tea.

  When they sat down at the table, Frances led in prayer, thanking the Lord for the food and that He was going to take care of the Marston children.

  It was a somber gathering at the table as each one looked at the chairs that had always been occupied by Bob and Louise. Though the children had little appetite, Frances urged them to eat. There was some sniffling between bites, but Mary, Johnny, and Lizzie obeyed Frances, doing their best to eat enough to satisfy her.

  They were just finishing when there was a knock at the front door.

  Johnny pushed his chair back, saying he would get it, and hurried to the door. When he opened it, he found Pastor and Mrs. Moore looking at him with tender eyes.

  The pastor picked him up and hugged him. “Johnny, the policemen came to see us and told us about your parents. We’re so sorry.”

  Johnny’s lips quivered as the sound of footsteps came from the hall and the Moores saw Mary and Lizzie coming their way, with Frances following.

  Dora Moore immediately put her arms around the girls, held them tight, and told them she loved them.

  They went into the parlor and sat down.

  The pastor spoke words of comfort to the children about their parents being in heaven with Jesus. “Frances, tomorrow I’m going to make visits in the homes of the church members and see if any of them would become foster parents to Mary, Johnny, and Lizzie.”

  Frances nodded. “I’d take them if I could, Pastor, but at my age, I just can’t do it. They will have needs that I simply can’t provide.”

  Pastor Moore nodded. “I understand.”

  Dora sighed. “Pastor and I would love to take them, but as all of you know, we have both of our widowed mothers living with us. There just isn’t any more room in the parsonage.”

  “We understand, Mrs. Moore,” said Mary. “But thank you for wanting to.”

  After Pastor Moore had prayer with Frances and the children, they walked the couple to the door.

  As the two of them stepped out onto the porch, the pastor said, “I’ll be back sometime tomorrow after making my visits.”

  Frances thanked them for coming.

  Chapter Five

  When Frances Roberts awakened, she opened her eyes and glanced toward the window. Just outside the guestroom, sunbeams were filtering through the branches of the trees. The splash of sunlight formed a backdrop of emerald patches and golden bars on the wall opposite the window.

  Frances sighed, threw back the covers, and rose wearily from the bed. She yawned, stretched her arms, and hobbled stiffly to the washstand. She looked at herself in the mirror on the wall, noting her tired eyes. After pouring water from a pitcher into the washbasin, she splashed it briskly on her face.

/>   Most of her night had been spent in prayer for the precious Marston children, seeking God’s comfort for them in the loss of their parents and asking for the wisdom she needed to give them the help they deserved.

  As she dabbed a towel on her face, she looked at her reflection and shook her head. “If only I were younger,” she said. “But what I see and feel this morning reaffirms what I said yesterday. Those sweet babies need young parents. People with means, and the energy to care for them and raise them.”

  Frances hung the towel on its rack and sighed. “Lord, please see that a Christian couple adopts them, even if there’s no one in the church who can do it. Keep Your mighty hand of protection on them and guide them in their young lives.” She brushed her hair, made the bun at the nape of her neck as usual, then dressed, made her bed, and went to the kitchen.

  She built a fire in the cookstove, then took down the iron kettle from the compartment on top of the stove. Oatmeal this morning, she thought. Since I was a small child, oatmeal has been a comfort food for me. And those dear children could use all the comfort available.

  With breakfast cooking, Frances slowly made her way down the hall to the girls’ room. She paused at the closed door, listening for any sound from within. She heard the quiet murmur of voices, punctuated periodically with a sniffle.

  “Lord, help me,” she whispered, and opened the door. The pathetic scene that greeted her brought a lump to her throat. Lizzie was curled up in her sister’s lap in the middle of Mary’s rumpled bed. Mary had her arms around her and Lizzie’s head lay on her chest. They both looked at Frances. Their usually bright eyes were dull and red-rimmed. Tears glistened on their pale cheeks.

  Mary’s voice cracked as she said, “We talked long into the night, Mrs. Roberts. And … and now Lizzie understands what death means, and that Mama and Papa will never be coming home.”

  Frances’s hand went to her mouth as she hurried to the bed. She lowered her body on the bed and gathered both girls in her arms. She spoke softly to them, attempting to bring comfort to their broken hearts.

  Mary was too young to carry this heavy load, and Frances could see that she was trying with everything that was in her to ease her little sister’s heartache and give her comfort.

  Moments later, Johnny appeared at the door with tears on his face. Mary saw him first, and when Frances noticed her looking toward the door, she turned her gaze. Sympathy lanced her heart and she extended a hand toward the boy. “Come here, Johnny.”

  As Johnny moved toward the bed, it was evident by the look on his face and the determined set of his jaw that he was trying desperately to do his best to be strong. But when he reached the bed, he began sobbing and crawled up onto the bed. Frances and the girls made room for him. He and his sisters clung to each other, seeking what solace they could find.

  “Mary, Johnny,” Frances said, her voice raspy, “you won’t be going to school today. Lizzie needs you, and I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to concentrate on your lessons.”

  Mary turned sad eyes on her. “Thank you, Mrs. Roberts. You’re right. Johnny and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what our teachers were saying. And we do need to be here with Lizzie. At least in this house, where everything reminds us of Mama and Papa, it makes us feel closer to them. And besides, Johnny and I would like to be here when Pastor Moore comes, so we’ll know what happened about finding us a home.”

  Frances nodded. “Of course, honey.”

  “I was thinking about Pastor Moore talking to all those people about taking us into their homes to raise us …”

  “Yes?”

  “Will … will we have any say in the arrangements that are made for us? I mean, if someone wanted to take us, but we didn’t think we would be happy there, would we be able to tell Pastor Moore how we felt?”

  By the slight tremor in Mary’s voice, Frances could tell she was fearful of the answer. She patted her cheek. “Honey, I’m sure Pastor Moore will want to hear how you feel about any home where you are being considered, and he’ll take your feelings into consideration. But you must remember he can only do so much.”

  Mary lowered her eyes. “I know.”

  Frances put a chipper sound into her voice. “Tell you what, babies—I’ve made oatmeal for breakfast. Let’s all go to the kitchen and I’ll serve it up. You can get dressed after we eat.”

  It was a sad little trio that walked down the hall and found their places at the big round table.

  Johnny took one look at the chairs his parents had always occupied, swallowed hard, and said in a squeaky voice, “Mama and Papa will never sit in those chairs again.”

  In unison, he and his sisters burst into tears.

  Frances gathered them in her arms again. “It’s all right, babies. Go right on and cry. God gives us tears as a means of helping our broken hearts to heal.”

  All three clung to her tenaciously while tears flowed.

  “Did you know that in the Bible, it says that God puts our tears in a bottle? He keeps our tears and remembers our broken hearts.”

  Johnny sniffed and looked up with awe in his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. The Lord said He will supply all our needs. You remember that Pastor Moore preached on this subject not long ago, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, God knows that when we have a broken heart, it has a need. It needs healing. So He has supplied a way to heal it. Somehow, our tears help to heal our broken hearts.”

  Johnny sniffed again. “Wow! He is a great God, isn’t He?”

  “Yes, Johnny. Indeed He is.”

  Frances dished up the hot oatmeal, added a pat of butter and a lump of brown sugar to each bowl, and placed them before the children. Then she put a stack of buttered toast in the middle of the table and a cup of milk at each child’s plate.

  She brought her own bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee and took her seat. Heads were bowed, and Frances prayed over the food. She also asked the Lord to comfort the Marston children in their sorrow.

  When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, all three of the children sat staring at their food. “Well, go ahead. Eat your breakfast.”

  Mary, Johnny, and Lizzie set pain-filled eyes on her.

  “Oh. Now, sweet babies, I know it isn’t easy to swallow past the lump each of you has in your throat, but please try. You must eat. Your parents would want you to eat. Let’s do it for Mama and Papa, okay?”

  Mary’s voice was strained as she said to her brother and sister, “Let’s eat for Mama and Papa.”

  When breakfast was finished, Mary said, “Mrs. Roberts, I’ll do the housecleaning while you and Johnny are washing and drying the dishes.”

  “I’ll help you clean the house, Mary,” volunteered Lizzie.

  The foursome stayed busy with a variety of chores while they remained alert for the sound of hoofbeats. They were hopeful that when Pastor Moore arrived, he would have good news.

  While Mary went about sweeping and dusting, Lizzie was close by, doing what she could to help. Often Lizzie would move up to Mary and cling to her. She would stop her work and simply hold her little sister until once again she was comforted.

  It was early afternoon when the buggy came to a halt in front of the house, and all three of the Marston children bolted through the door and onto the porch with Frances not far behind.

  A chorus of voices greeted Pastor Darryl Moore, and he greeted them in return as he stepped out of the buggy. Frances could tell by the look in the pastor’s eyes that all was not well, but pretending not to notice, she invited him in and they all went into the parlor and sat down. Frances and the children were seated on the sofa, facing the pastor, who was in an overstuffed chair. Lizzie was on Frances’s lap, with Mary on one side and Johnny on the other.

  Pastor Moore cleared his throat. “Well, my news is not the best. There is no one in the church who can take you children on a permanent basis. We have some families who are willing to take you temporarily, but even then,
you will have to be split up. There is no one who has space for all three of you.”

  Mary leaned forward. “Pastor Moore, is there someone who would take two of us? I have to be with Lizzie, even if Johnny has to stay somewhere else.”

  Johnny felt a cold ball like ice form in his stomach. He couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from his sisters.

  Pastor Moore nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Mary. I think there is one family who might take both of you girls. I will talk to them, and let you know as soon as I can.”

  Frances and the children walked the pastor to the door, and when he was driving away, Johnny began to cry.

  Mary looked at him with concern in her eyes. “Johnny, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to be separated from you and Lizzie!” he sobbed. “You two will have each other, but what about me? I’ll be alone! I’m only six years old. Mama and Papa are dead. I need to be with my sisters!”

  While Frances and Lizzie looked on, Mary wrapped her arms around her little brother. “Johnny, I don’t want to be separated, either. The Lord will fix it. He will give us a family somewhere who will take all three of us. We’ll try not to be a bother to them. We’ll work hard to do our part around their house. Surely there’s someone that will understand and let us stay together.”

  Johnny’s entire body shook as he continued to sob.

  Mary hugged him tighter. “Please stop crying, Johnny. It’s going to be all right. I won’t let them separate us.”

  Johnny’s blinked at his tears. A hopeful look came into his eyes. “Promise?”

  Mary took a deep breath. Her throat tightened, but she got it out. “I promise.” She kissed his cheek and released her hold on him.

  Johnny sniffed, ran a shirtsleeve across his face, and looked up at Frances. “Mrs. Roberts, why did God take Mama and Papa to heaven when we need them so much?”

  The silver-haired woman met his questioning gaze. “I can’t tell you why He took your parents, Johnny. But I can tell you this—God never makes mistakes. He had a reason for doing so, but we might not know what it was till we get to heaven and He explains it to us. Let’s go into the parlor. There’s a Scripture I want to show you that is related to your question.”