The Elves And The Preacher It was an incident that happened way back in time when the blessed soil turned to dust and the toilers of the earth packed their families and belongings in their flivvers and headed West. The times were hard, as many an honest landsmen who remained with their families on their dusty homesteads had to rely mainly on the charity of others, as their hands were idle for the lack of means to earn their bread. The date was in the hot months of the summer of '35 and it involved a large family tied to their ramshackled, yet orderly dwelling, set in a township in the Delta of the Big Muddy. Considering the poverty of the family, the incident that happened wasn't much of a miracle, which made it precisely what made it so facinating. The magic of Elves and their attention to the cleric and his family was the subject noted, which was beyond the realm of reasonable explanation. The father was the local preacher of the congregation, neither one of Hallelujah nor of Te Deum, but one following the word of the Good Book. The preacher, himself, came from a long line of Believers who had settled in the Delta and cleared a few acres for their homestead. Alongside the hard work they spent in their toil, they were gifted with the 'speaking of tongues'. The cleric's ancestors in the succession of the line had built a church for their near and far neighbors, and spread the might of the words of the Scriptures. The preacher was known simply to people about as 'The Good Reverend'. The upstanding cleric did have a name but those who dared to call Zebulun Evlyn Harris to him would feel his wrath. The righteous figure was a tall, hefty chap with the bearing of a prophet, getting on at the end of his middling years. His craggy face crowned with a flowing mane of white hair was quite pronounced. From his lips, his booming voice at chapel services spoke loudly of the good ways of the Lordy; many a sinner had heard his righteous words and followed the road to redemption. The Good Man had married young in years to the gracious, but plain daughter of the merchant of the feed and grain store, which was blessed with bliss and contentment. A passel of children were born to them, but the scythe of Father Death reaped two in his harvest and only left three to survive: The proud lot included Jacob, a sturdy boy of ten, Abraham now nine, and Sarah going on her sixth year. The cleric's earning depended on the plate by the congregation during Sunday services and a stipend from the brotherood of the faith. To these small earnings he was able to add a few small fees in uniting a couple in wedded bliss, and from people who sought him out to say a few parting words at the gravesides of the dear departed. His goodly wife, Rachel by name, helped him in the task and shared in the burden of providing the bread for her family. During the day, her stout body would be bent over a washing tub laundering for the few that had money to spare. She assisted her man at his pastoral duties, attending to the birthing and death duties, which would sometimes be rewarded with a jar of honey, or a small sack of corn. And, at night, in the light of the kerosene lamp, she would deftly mend the family's clothes, which saved the need for replacement. Despite the cursed poverty of the recession, it was a happy family, and this was mainly due to the preacher being a man of dignity, kindness and piety in his religious fevor: The cleric was considered by his congregation to be a morale-builder in those trying times. He kept his family together with honour, good humour and the wisdom of the Word. He appreciated his wife's attention and assistance, and she earned, in his eyes, her proud Biblical name. The family's devotion was shared by his neighbors and by the members of his congregation. In this way the proud preacher achieved the respect as a wise and learned leader of the faith, a good family man, and a devoted husband. It was about this time that magic of the Elves and their mysterious ways first occured. It happened at the begining of a Thursday evening. The two boys had taken shame on the sight of their holey shoes and they had asked their mother if she could afford repairing them. The good woman, wise in her elder years, paused in thought as she looked at her children with the moist of tears to her clear blue eyes. She knew of the answer, but she promised come next Monday to see to the matter. But the shoes were not repaired the following Monday; they were seen to the following night. The children, now grown to manhood and womanhood, remembered the details of the incident. Everything was the same that evening. The preacher and his family had blessed the food on their table as they partook of the meager evening meal. While the mother with help of her little girl cleared the table and washed the dishes, the cleric assisted the boys in their homework. Afterwards they sat down together for a spell and talked for a while. Bedtime was the usual routine; the children arranged their clothes tidely and place their shoes under their beds, before snugging themselves into their beds. The preacher was the last to bed as it was a nightly task of his to check the order of their dwelling. Rachel felt his affectionate touch before the closing of her eyes. In the morning, when the boys lifted their shoes from under their beds they were greeted with a wonderful surprise; their shoes had been properly repaired with new soles and heels and a high polish. The two boys were quite puzzled and didn't know what to make of it. They quickly dressed and rushed to the parents with the news and For possible explanation. The preacher and his goodly wife shook their heads. Since no answer was forthcoming, the boys' minds were filled with the magic of Elves as written in the age old fairy tale. It wasn't the end of the matter. Not at all. Four months later, the shoes were again repaired in the same manner, and this time the tiny shoes of Little Sarah were also mended. The children continued to count it as the working of Elves. They wondered about this question everytime a pair of shoes was mended during the night, and it happened for the past six years or more to every shoe, slipper or sandal they possessed. Still, no one, that was asked, could give them a reasonable explanation. The preacher only answered that it was the wonders of the Lord and that the children should offer Him the prayers of their gratitude. Of course, the children didn't let it rest at at that as their curiosity enlarged everytime their pairs of shoes were repaired. . They took turns and attempted to watch all night, but their attempts to spy out those elfin creatures were foiled by the sprinkling of the sands of sleep. The children neither saw the Elves of their imagination nor heard their tapping hammers. The lives of the preacher and his family improved in the coming years; the era of depression turned into the trickling of prosperity. The offerings of the plate increased and the brotherhood had raised the cleric's stipend. Even money was offered for a new church and when completed in construction, the preacher continued to boom the Word of the Good Book. ...and the children were not mysteriously attended to by Elves at night, as their shoes were properly repaired by a competent shoemaker or replaced when needed. Now, his son Jacob a preacher in his own right in a church of a well-endowed congregation in a city near the Delta, offered the explanation of the Elves. In a conversation with a fellow cleric he told of the incident of the shoe repairing through the light tapping of the hammers of those elfin folk. "Since we as children ever heard the tap of the Elves' hammers, we later suspected, that on these occasions our father got out bed in the middle of the night and repaired our shoes, probably in the shed in the back yard. It was pride on his part that his children would dress proper-like despite his poverty, even to the repair of their shoes. "Not, not even my mother could tell where he kept his tools, nor could she understand her husband's knowledge of the cobbler's trade, a secret withheld in their married bond. It was knowledge earned by neccessity in the preacher's boyhood years when he was apprenticed to a sadler's workshop to help earn bread for the family. But she knew later of the source of the leather. My dear mother understood that only her father, the merchant, could have supplied the material, which she knew was given in gratis; but she uttered not a word of it to both her husband and her children." "My father was wise enough to know even though he was poor, so as to bring to his home the conversation and the fellowship in the Word of the Good Book and the lessons it taught. This kind of environment helped a son to become a good pastor, another son to receive a scholarship in the study of law, and a daughter to the wedded bliss of a good and industrious young man." "Amen," was the response.
Copyright © 2002 Norman A Rubin |