Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  Although the graveyard was now empty, Polly deemed it wise to stay hidden just a little longer. She stretched out on the sodden grass to allow the sun’s warmth to dry her off. The other secret visitor who had been hiding behind a tomb decided to do likewise.

  Ralph took off his old leather boots to wiggle his toes and then hung his trench coat on a tombstone before likewise stretching out on the grass to dry out under the warmth of the sun. He smiled to himself as he thought this had been the most eventful and fun funeral he had ever attended. As both of them lay on the grass in the graveyard, Polly still totally unaware of Ralph’s presence, the grave digger, Ernie Shwartskoff, came along with Bert from the funeral home. Bert had been ordered to join Ernie at the cemetery, having been urgently contacted by Mr. Pinecoffin, and ordered to make his way to the graveyard to reseal the coffin. This time they used extra long nails!

  Ernie stood leaning heavily on his spade while Bert jumped down into the hole where the coffin still sat. As he hammered in the extra long nails, Ernie commented that this whole funeral had seemed quite spooky from the start.

  “Where on earth did all those white feathers come from, Bert?” he asked, looking down the hole as Bert hammered away.

  Bert looked up and shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me, Ernie,” he said with a grin. “Not only have these little feathers been the cause of much mischief, but their very existence is still something of a mystery.”

  With the coffin lid safely secured, Bert called out to Ernie to give him a hand out of the hole. Ernie happily obliged, holding out his hand and pulling hard until Bert came up to the surface.

  “There, that should do it. Nothing should open that coffin again,” he triumphantly declared, “for I’ve used the longest nails I could find.”

  Both men stood for a moment as they had a good chuckle. Ernie then took the large spade he had been leaning on and began filling in the hole with the earth that stood piled high beside the burial site. He whistled merrily as he got on with the job. In no time at all the large mound had disappeared and the ground was then leveled off. He paused along with his friend to admire his workmanship. He then placed a friendly arm on Bert’s shoulder as they walked out of the cemetery together, deep in conversation about the length, depth, and breadth of the next grave that Ernie was required to dig in time for tomorrow’s funeral.

  Chapter 15

  IN DOMINUM SPIRITUM SANCTUM

  POLLY THOUGHT IT was now safe to come out from where she had been resting. As she stood up from the ground she checked to see that all was clear. It was. She placed the wild poppies and bluebells into the jar that was now filled with rainwater and headed over to where Thomas lay at rest. She placed the jar on the freshly-filled grave before gently falling down on her knees to say a prayer for Thomas. She still had absolutely no idea that she was being observed from a distance.

  Polly found herself at a complete loss as she wondered precisely what prayers she should say, for her emptiness consumed her. She had no “order of service” or little prayer book to help her. Without these aids, she was very unsure where to put the thees and thous that were put into most prayers. She believed that these were obviously the keys to getting God’s full attention. She thought she would have a good try anyway. She cleared her throat and began. She chose her sternest and most holier-than-thou voice, which was pretty similar to that of the dear vicar.

  O Lord, Thou knowest all my ways, and I therefore beseech Thee to hearken unto my voice and inclineth Thine ear unto me and pitieth me in all my troubles. For mine eye is consumed with much grief, and my bones are therefore consumed even unto my bowels. For only Thou, O Lord, knoweth the way that I should take, and Thou must surely in Thine good judgments cometh to mine aid and giveth me Thy deepest consolation that only cometh from Thy right hand, or is it Your left?

  Polly paused to consider whether it was God’s right hand or whether it was His left. She could not remember which one of God’s hands was the one that was so often referred to when praying. It was very important, after all, to get it right if there was to be even the slimmest chance of persuading Him to act on her behalf and give her a helping hand.

  “Oh, dear,” she cried forlornly. “I will be here all day if I don’t get it right. So I think I will have to settle for the left hand and just hope for the best.”

  Ralph, who was within earshot, could not help but make a deep groan as he remained very curious as to what on earth was going to come forth next from this unusual young lady. He therefore continued to listen in on Polly.

  For I waiteth upon Thee, O Lord, and putteth all my trust in Thee. For I hopeth that when Thou hast tried me, You will bringeth me forth from the pit and setteth my feet upon Thy rocks and establish me in Thy great kindness.

  Polly stopped and made a similar groan to that of Ralph’s before finally admitting defeat and giving up. She was most impressed with her words, and there was no denying she would, if she were a man, make a most credible minister, but the sad truth was that she hadn’t the slightest idea what she was going on about. “No,” she admitted to herself, “it was all pure gobbledygook!” She usually spoke from her heart and said whatever she needed to say in her words. Therefore she felt most frustrated and dissatisfied with her failure to express herself and thereby discharge her burden.

  Ralph was nodding in perfect agreement with Polly’s assessment of her very unsatisfactory communication with God. He hoped and prayed that she would have the courage and conviction to be herself and start speaking from her heart.

  For many years Polly had sung in the choir, and again, she had to confess that she understood very little of what she was saying and wondered if God might well be in the same position. After all, what does In Dominum Spiritum Sanctum and Qui tollis peccata mundi and other such utterances really mean?

  Polly admitted to herself that she really had very little idea as to what was the best method to get God to pay her some attention. She felt that most of what she said or repeated after the priest bore little resemblance to how she felt inside. It all served to make Him seem very far away and quite unreachable. Polly mistakenly suspected that God used this secret code only with bishops, cardinals, and priests, but cared little when it came to communicating with commoners such as herself, who could only understand plain English. This crisis appeared to come to a head as she knelt there alone and heartbroken at Thomas’s grave. Her beloved brother was gone, and she could no longer keep up the pretense of feeling fine and doing what she felt was expected of her. Inside she was screaming and in need of real answers to the hideousness of her life on this earth.

  She slumped down by his graveside and pondered what she should do. Luckily it was not too long before she had a bright idea. She would sing her favorite church hymn that she always sang when she was alone with only her private thoughts for companionship. As she knew all the words of this hymn by heart, she decided that singing it might be the best option after all. She would at least give it a go. With this settled in her mind, she opened her mouth and began.

  The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down…

  Within minutes of starting, her voice began to crack causing her to falter, so she stopped her singing, even though she had only just begun. Her heart felt like a lead weight, and therefore every attempt to pray seemed utterly futile. She believed she might as well give up and go home, for what she truly needed was a real heart-to-heart with God, as she was so weighed down with her cares and woes. She therefore made the snap decision to go for it! Yes, really launch right in!

  I’m so sorry, God. But I really don’t feel like singing today, for I have much in my heart that I need to say, and I’m beginning to feel that this may be the perfect time and place to get it all off my chest if that’s OK with You.

  She paused for a second, straining to hear an answer. Whether she was hoping for a thundering voice from the heavens to bellow down, “I’m here, and I’m listening,” or “Oh, no! Not you again, Polly Brown!” will rem
ain a mystery. What is known is that she only waited a matter of seconds before advancing most forthrightly into her speech in a way that only Polly knew how! For she was very experienced in expressing such matters of the heart with no holds barred! There was to be no holding back by this young lady as she spilled out all her deepest concerns that day by the graveside.

  I thought not, for as usual You are probably far too busy to talk to me. Well, I’m going to say it anyway, and I would like to start with the words of this hymn that I’ve been told is really a psalm. Now, I know You didn’t write it with Your own fair hands, but as far as I am aware, You supposedly inspired the person who did. To me that is the same thing. Therefore, as far as I am concerned, You must take on some, if not all, responsibility for its interpretation.

  Polly paused to draw breath before continuing on.

  Well, this all leads up to me saying that I think we need an open discussion concerning the content of this hymn, don’t You think? For starters, Your psalm begins, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Well, I am going to stop there, for I need to inform You that I am most definitely wanting! Yes, I am wanting so badly that it hurts like crazy. I want a mother to take care of me and tell me that she loves me. I want You to take real care of Thomas, and I also want You to help me get out of this horrid orphanage, because I really can’t take any more. I’m sorry, God, to have to talk to You in such an outspoken manner, but I cannot hold all this in much longer. I know You may think I am utterly selfish for complaining when there are so many children in the world who have no food or a bed to sleep in. But I am screaming inside, and I have no other person to share all this pain with.

  As Polly paused to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face, Ralph felt the depths of her distress and desperately wanted to come out from behind his hiding place to give her a reassuring hug. Nonetheless, he chose to restrain himself from intervening, for he felt that it was best for her to remain ignorant of his presence in the graveyard. He chose instead to privately shed a few tears on her behalf.

  You go on to say, and I quote, “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.” Well, that’s all very nice, but if You hadn’t noticed, I am not a cow! So a field full of green grass to chew on is therefore of no use to me whatsoever! All I want is a real home and a real family with nice food to fill my tummy once in a while. So I do think it would be wise of You to get those words changed for starters!

  Polly paused to take another deep breath as she continued to confront Him on this very personal matter.

  Leaving aside the still waters bit, You then go on to say that You restore my soul. Well, I may be a bit of an idiot at times, but nowhere in my biology books is there any reference to the soul as an organ. I’ve seen plenty of hearts, livers, lungs, and kidneys. They are all in the books along with illustrations of what they look like, but there is definitely no picture of a soul! So how can You possibly claim to restore something that clearly does not exist? Need I go on?

  Ralph smiled at her rhetorical question, for he knew with much certainty that there was no way Polly Brown would finish until she had exhausted every avenue available to her. He had, after all, come to know Polly and her little ways only too well. He therefore gave a deep sigh.

  Polly looked down towards the earth that covered Thomas’s coffin and apologized to Thomas, saying she promised she would get down to talking about his needs just as soon as she had got everything off her chest. She knew he would understand.

  You further claim, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Well, I feel this one really needs further explaining! For my whole life is spent in fear, and I assure You it is no shadow; it truly is the real thing. The evil that encompasses me is so dark that I feel like I am dying all day long. I therefore feel I have little choice but to ask what on earth are You going on about? I do hope that at some time in the near future, after You’ve given some thought to my question, You will be able give me a satisfactory answer.

  Polly took a hanky from her pocket and wiped her eyes.

  And I have to say that I am particularly concerned about the next bit, for You say, “Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Well, speaking of rods, I have had so many beatings, and I can assure you, hand on heart, that they have given me absolutely no comfort at all. Have You ever had a beating? I’m pretty certain that if You had You would have no trouble agreeing that You gained no comfort from them whatsoever!

  Polly paused as she instantly realized that she had gone too far. She had made a real blunder. She felt pretty stupid as she considered past Easter Sunday services, which never failed to remind all the parishioners about what happened to his only Son. For not only was He beaten beyond recognition, but He was also nailed to a cross and left to die. This time she had really blown it! She continued, very apologetically.

  I’m sorry God. Please ignore the last bit. In fact, pretend I never said it. It must have been absolutely awful for You to watch on and feel powerless to stop it, so please understand my outburst. It’s just that I have had to watch Thomas take many beatings for things that he, too, was innocent of. So I’m really so sorry. I really didn’t mean to be so heartless.

  Polly wiped away the tears that were now streaming down her face quite out of control. Ralph also looked around for something to wipe away his tears, for he really needed to get a grip on himself. In sheer desperation he pulled off one of his dirty and very pungent striped socks and proceeded to wipe his face before blowing his nose into his sock as quietly as he was able. Finally, after many blows, Ralph took his crumpled sock and, using both hands, he stretched it back into shape before struggling to put it back on his bare foot. Polly, having blown her nose, also put her hanky back in her pocket before carrying on her seemingly one-sided conversation with her Maker.

  But come to think of it, she sadly said, I also think canes, or rods if you prefer, should be banned from use in orphanages and all schools. My brothers have all been given the cane for the most stupid little things, so to think that all Your staff in heaven are going around giving the rod willy nilly makes me wonder if I would really like heaven at all!

  Ralph, who was still listening in on Polly’s conversation, felt nothing short of the deepest sadness for her. He felt sadder still that all her experiences in life had led her to believe that God above was something of a cruel tyrant or a hard taskmaster. It made him want to start weeping all over again. He declined, purely because he felt much too exhausted to pull off his other sock. Separating each toe and then placing each of them into their own individual cubby hole was more than a bit of a challenge, at least as far as he was concerned.

  “You’d have to be an angel to stay around and listen to Polly when she got into the full flow,” he muttered rather resignedly.

  He could only hope there would come a time when she would realize that God’s arms of love were already around her. Until that day he could do little but watch on, feeling nothing but the deepest compassion for this extremely hurt and damaged young lady.

  You go on later to say, “Thou anointest my head with oil.” Again I find myself having to stop You there to point out that if You hadn’t already noticed, I have extremely dry hair with awful split ends. It may well have a lot to do with the cheap shampoo I’m forced to use, but no way does this excuse get You off the hook! I can say with absolute certainty that I am missing out on this special offer. None of this free “anointment oil” has ever touched one measly wisp of my hair! So I wonder if You could turn a blind eye to my little outburst and still do me the kindness of popping by one night when you have a free moment to apply a little of this conditioner to my very dull and lifeless hair!

  Oh, and while You’re at it, please could You give me a generous dollop of this oil. I would really appreciate hair like Cassandra Catchpole’s. Her hair is so shimmeringly shiny and glossy that it gives her the perfect excuse to flaunt herself, swinging her head from side to side as she swans around the school like some
trumped-up glamour queen. I have to admit that I find this more than a trifle upsetting, for I’ve come to believe You’re accidentally giving her my portion of anointment oil. I promise You that she really doesn’t need it. The truth is she already has lots of lovely clothes and beautifully straight teeth. It all makes me feel quite sick because it’s not fair! I really need Your assurance that You will look into this little matter on my behalf.

  Polly pulled out her hanky again, this time to have a good blow. She then began laughing out loud.

  You tell me that my cup runneth over. Well, God, You’re quite right about that! I obviously don’t need to tell You that I’m constantly in trouble for filling my mug to the brim and slopping water or tea all over the place. But I bet You do the same! Be honest, You know You do!

  Polly paused and listened intently. She took the silence to mean a firm yes. Encouraged by this, she went on.

  Well, it’s good to know I’m not the only one with this terrible habit. We must make more effort not to do this, don’t You think? In Your case it would be advisable to clear up all spills as soon as they happen, otherwise the angels could well find themselves sliding all over the place, quite possibly slipping off a cloud, then falling to the earth with a hard thump.

  Ralph also chuckled to himself as he thought this extraordinary and most outspoken child has an unusually keen sense of imagination. He drew closer to listen further.