The House

The dusty road wounds through the mismatched houses, looking much like a great serpent. My companion and I trudged forward, each step creating a puff of dust that eventually landed upon our much worn, newly polished shoes. Turning to another battered door we both lift our hands to knock as if we had done this a million times (which we had). Simultaneously we struck the hard wood, creating almost a defining crash that echoed through the misshaped hovel. We shouted “Aloh!” announcing our presence to anyone who lives in this dismal place. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, and just when we were about to turn and go the door opened and two bright eyes shone at of the darkness inside the shade. Standing in the doorway was a little old lady; whose face would put a prune to shame and a smile that could light up a room. She only stood to my waist and wore a lightly colored dress that was almost as wrinkled as she was. Her mocha colored eyes peered through glasses the size of the bottom of coke bottles and also wore a slightly messy bun that was typical of an old lady. She looked up at us with a toothless smile and then muttered in broken English “come in boys, I have been expecting you.”

Walking through the doorway, my companion stooped to get across the threshold. We blinked from the darkness and dust that filled the air, I looked around the room. The furniture was not much, simple wooden crates surrounding a small coffee table whose history had been etched into the wood. Atop the table was a simple electric lantern, fighting the darkness, and adding to the dismal scene before us. Attached to the walls with various nails and tacks were pictures of Christ and family member that must have long since passed away. The small old woman moistened with one wrinkled hand for us to sit down. Gingerly placing our massive bodies upon the delicate looking crates, we began to converse with this small women that had invited us into her home. She spoke in the rapid succession of a practiced tongue in a voice that sounded weary with age. Her eyes peered out from behind he glasses, twinkling with wisdom. As the conversation slowed I asked her why she was expecting us. She paused, her lips turning up in a pensive smile. When she finally spoke her words were barely audible and shaking slightly. She began to explain to us how she had lost her only son to cancer this past week and she was now alone. Her eyes weld up with tears as she spoke of the anguish she felt, and how she cried unto the Lord for help. Pausing, she pulled a handkerchief from a hidden pocket and dabbed her eyes.  She then told us how God told her that tomorrow she would have answers. She was told to look for the boys in White shirts ties. Glancing over at my companion I realized that he was crying, my companion who is the size of a baby elephant was crying. Then I realized that I was too. Leaning forward, tears streaming down my face, I asked her, in a voice whose power surprised even me, “What would you like to know”?