THE JOURNEY

THE JOURNEY  By Tessa Harvey     The Catholic priest had loaned them his small car. Carefully the family helped him lift the vehicle off the blocks where it had been "for the duration." As a grocer, Patrick had a small amount of petrol. He hoped it would be enough. They set off early.     Alice was watching from the hospital lounge window. As soon as light dawned, even a little before, she had been there. Until then she had not realised how much she had missed her family.     Soon they came chugging round the corner. The small car spluttered, jerked and banged a few times. Apparently it had a personality all its own. Adults and small children poured out. As quick as she could, Alice was out in the cool, fresh air, hugging her strong dad and her beautifil mum, her lovely brother, a stray neighbour who for some reason was clutching a kitten.      And two children? Alice stared at them, assessing. Something tore at her. She saw the boy with...

THE JOURNEY  By Tessa Harvey     Patrick was tamping down what passed as tobacco these days. For as long as Thomas could remember, his dad had smoked a pipe every day, but only in the evenings and usually outside on an old back door chair unless the weather was really bad.     He struck a match on the side of his shoe. Thomas watched it flare as he had when he was small, mesmerised by the tiny dancing flame. The "tobacco" glowed and the older man drew on the pipe, grimacing slightly. Silently, Thomas resolved to buy him some decent tobacco when he could.     "About my dream, dad?" he prompted. "God does not change the past to suit our people's wishes," Patrick began. "I have really prayed about this and feel God's heart was touched by your compassion for this wounded mother..,.." He paused.      "And," said Thomas.     "I think God allowed you to see that she may have been rescued but you must pray also!"     "Are...

THE JOURNEY By Tessa Harvey     Finally Thomas reached the edge of his small town. It was drizzling with rain, the earlier lovely weather quite gone. It was dispiriting. The streets were crumbled with potholes. The smoke died down in the town but it smelt terrible now, stifling. It all looked like parts of France and he suspected, like a good deal of Europe. Why this town? He remembered cycling here with his mates   down the narrow streets. Some houses looked familiar, others partly broken and sad. There were earlier memories of climbing metal lampposts to attach rope swings, swinging along with his parents holding his arms between them, laughing and giggling.     Where were his family? His mates?     Exhausted, limping badly now, Thomas sat on a broken wall. Then he saw two small kids racing towards him, shouting his name with great glee! Josha and Jenna!! And behind them, his parents - slower, tired, but so, so happy to see him.     He felt...

THE JOURNEY  By Tessa Harvey     It was a beautiful day as Thomas walked along, grateful for yesterday's tasty chicken broth and the cheese sandwich and water bottle he had kept for today. He heard larks singing high in the sky, such an inspiring sound, liquid music.     A flower caught his eye. The young man was amazed. It was a small yellow globe flower shining in the grass, a buttercup but curled around. He thought of all the strife involving so many in the world and prayed. He was on sick leave, but would have to return in a few weeks to the war.     That night he had strange dreams. He dreamed that his parents were once again in that small life-raft. In his dream he saw them asleep, battered, wounded, weakened by their ordeal. A woman, dark-featured with long black hair was towing two small children. With the desperate strength of a mother, she pushed the larger child into the raft, who then helped her mum with the little one. The woman cried for ...

THE JOURNEY  By Tessa Harvey     Dressed in his army uniform, Thomas had almost always been greeted with warmth, a welcome of war-time bread and whatever else could be spared and very weak tea or water to drink.     One woman had opened the door eagerly, but she saw it was not her son and tears had come into her eyes. Sad for her, Thomas turned away, but she saw his limp, his thinness and his bone-weary features and called him in.     One of their chickens had died and the nourishing broth had given them both new life. As always he helped with some chores.     Their chaplain had preached the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the men of war. John turned away, scoffing, but it meant hope to Thomas. The chaplain had given them a copy of two psalms. He gave her, the lonely woman, a copy of Psalm 23 about the Good Shepherd. Her name was Fiona and she took it gladly. Long forgotten, it had been her parents' favourite psalm.     Thomas knew it now...

THE JOURNEY  By Tessa Harvey     The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky as Alice and her new friend walked over the fields. Wheat and barley were shooting up, rustling softly in a light wind. Would the harvest be brought home, she wondered, remembering the smoke and reddish glow she had seen across the Channel. God had given humans free will.     It seemed those who bowed to an evil wind as one seemed to prosper. Others who fought willingly against tyranny seemed to be losing. Had her brother made it "back to Blighty?" she wondered sadly.     Even if I can only find a small rowboat, I will go home and fight. I will not give in. And she plodded determinedly onwards toward the coast.      -----------------------------------------------     Marie hurried to keep up with Josie. Her mind felt bruised as well as her body. She was limping slightly, but gamely carried the little boy when it was her turn. They only had a couple o...