Deaconess Jennie Furnace

     She stood tall in her faith against the burdens of sorrow. Jubilee, her five-year-old granddaughter, had been the light of Jennie’s life since the day she was born. With her wide smile that could soften the hardest heart, the child had been named for joy and the promise of brighter days. But now, her smile had faded, and her small frame grew more frail the last couple of weeks. The Doctor had said there was nothing more they could do; Jubilee was dying of cancer.  

     Jennie believed in a power greater than medicine. She was a devoted Christian woman, who clung to her faith and God’s unchanging hand. Every morning, she knelt by her bedside, her aged hands folded, her voice steady. She called on the Lord with passion, declaring His goodness, even in the face of despair. 

    "Lord, YOU are the healer,” she’d pray. “You said you are a refuge for the brokenhearted, and I believe you, Lord. Jubilee is yours, Father, and I’ll keep praising your name till you show us your glory.” 

     Jennie was a praying woman who had weathered life’s storms with grace and dignity.  Her prayers were cries that echoed through her home like church bells. The neighbors often paused to listen. Her house was a sanctuary of praise and worship.  

    Jubilee loved to hear her grandmother pray. She would smile faintly as Jennie’s voice filled the house. She knew those were the times 'Memom' was talking to God on her behalf. 

    “Memom, does God really hear you?” Jubilee asked, her voice barely above a whisper.       “Oh, baby girl, He hears every word,” she answered bravely and resolute. “He hears the cries of His children louder than anything else. And you know what? He’s gonna move. You just wait and see.” Jennie kissed Jubilee on the forehead, reassuring her that all would be well. “You sleep now, we got church in the morning."

     The next morning, Jennie couldn’t help but notice that Jubilee was wheezing. For a moment, she thought it was just her imagination, until she realized Jubilee’s lips were horribly chapped and her skin was pale and purplish. She couldn’t believe this day had come.  It was unsettling. Jennie was not sure how to comfort Jubilee.  All she knew to do was pray and wait on God. She fell to her knees in unrelenting grief.       

    ”Oh, Lord, please... NO! Stop! Don’t take her.”    Jennie tried to stand, but the pain weighed her down. When she finally stood up, she walked over and laid with her.  She placed Jubilee in her arms and held her tight, giving her all the love she could muster. 

     Sweet Jubilee lay nestled in her grandmother’s arms, her head resting against her chest. Her small hand clutched Jennie’s weathered fingers. 

     “Memom, will you sing the angel song again?” Jubilee whispered, her voice barely audible.  Jennie’s heart clenched. Swing low, sweet chariot, Comin’ for to carry me home...”   

   Jubilee’s tired eyes fluttered shut, her lips curving into a soft smile.          

  “It’s so pretty, Memom,” she murmured. 

   “The angels are coming to take you home now, baby.”  Tears welled in Jennie’s eyes as she stroked Jubilee’s tiny hand.  As the morning stretched, Jubilee’s breaths grew slower, softer, until they finally stopped altogether. Jennie held her grandchild’s still body close, rocking her as though she might stir awake again. But Jubilee had slipped away, cradled by her grandmother’s love and the gentle whisper of the hymn. 

   “Lord Jesus,” Jennie cried out, her voice cracking as the tears slipped down her weathered cheeks. “My sweet baby..., Lord no, not my Jubilee!” Her sobs came in waves, her grief raw and unfiltered as she clung to the child she had loved so deeply. Why hadn’t God answered her prayers.

     Jennie cried for hours over Jubilee. No comfort came to her.  She questioned God...Why?  

     “Father God,” she began, her voice heavy with sorrow, “I have served You all my life. I’ve prayed, I’ve believed in your will. But today, Lord, why have you forsaken me. Why, Lord? Why did You take my Sweet Jubilee?” 

   Her words came with a tempered hatred as she wept into her hands. The room was quiet, save for the sound of her prayers.  

     “I don’t know what to do now. She was my only joy, Lord. I trusted you.”  She let out a loud shrill cry. Hoping to appeal to her God just enough to grant her another second with her Jubilee. But to no avail. 

   Jennie laid cradling Jubilee for what seemed like an eternity. Finally giving way to her will not being God’s will, Jennie succumbed to the reality that Jubilee was gone. Tears began to slow down. Jennie kissed Jubilee one last time, then laid her on her back, placing her hands over her little heart. 

    “Please Lord... just show me that she’s with You, safe in your arms.” 

     As the evening sun dipped low in the sky, Jennie prayed, pouring out her heart to the God she had always trusted. She felt a peace wash over her, like a warm surrender. She could feel the presence of the Lord near. Her breathing steadied, and a deep calm settled in her soul. She walked to the window, hypnotized by the fading light. She noticed the sky was painted the colors of Jubilee’s favorite marble; orange and gold. A single tear slid down her cheek.     

    “Thank You, Lord,” she whispered. “I know she’s with You now.”  Jennie walked to Jubilee’s bedside. She peered at the lifeless tiny body that laid there, her spirit was heavy as a million stones. She pressed her hand gently over Jubilee's chest.    

    “Rest easy, my Sweet Jubilee, and receive your wings baby,” she said softly. “Memom will see you again.” And though her heart ached with the weight of her loss, she felt a strange comfort. Jubilee had gone home to meet the angels.