A Rainbow Window - Evelyn J. Steward (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📗

A Rainbow Window


Elise sat in the window seat with the sunshine gleaming through onto her knees. A book lay beside her as she sat dreaming in the warm glow. Finally, she became drowsy and sleep overcame her. It was her day off and she liked this window seat where she could watch the world outside.

After a while Elise woke up with a start. Noises outside attracted her attention. It was a group of children on holiday from school. She glanced out and saw white chalk on the opposite wall, three marks for cricket stumps. One boy had a bat made out of a lump of wood. They seemed happy with their game.

Leaning back, she let them enjoy the sport. The sun had moved across the horizon and was catching the coloured glass in the top part of her window. Red grapes with green vine leaves, surrounded by a blue border with little yellow flowers curled round its edges.

This was an old Victorian house. When they leased out rooms and apartments, they left the original stained glass there, as a feature. Elise liked the colours. It reminded her of her dream. She was in a church, sitting in a dark-stained pew, its colour gained by many years of wood polish applied by caring church members. As she sat, the stained glass window containing Saint Bartholomew, one of the twelve Apostles, gleamed down on her frail body.

Elise had no idea why this dream should suddenly appear in her mind. Still, tomorrow was Sunday And on impulse, she decided to attend the Service. That decided, she realised the sunshine had made her thirsty. Getting up, she went to the little kitchen and filled the kettle with water. She didn’t like this particular kettle, never did. It was bought when an old kettle gave up the ghost. She used it a few times but then decided to buy a new plastic one, lighter in weight.

Now the plastic one had gone too. Despite using lemon every week or so, it had piled up the chalky deposits, and had started leaking. So now she was forced to use the larger metal kettle. The one she really hated. It was heavy to lift, and water poured to the side of the spout, often scalding her hand. It had slipped from her hand once, landing on the floor, the boiling water scalding her left foot, which became painful and red.

She held the teacup tenuously as she poured water over the teabag inside. Gratefully, she stood the kettle back on its stand and took her cup to the tiny kitchen table, collecting a packet of biscuits as she did so. It was a soothing cup of tea, something to help her ruminate on her dream.

Walking slowly along the path that led to the church door which was open, she was passed by several people intent on reaching the door ahead of her. As they passed, several said “Good Morning”. Elise replied, “Hello,”, keeping up her sedate pace, not wishing to rush into this, for her, somewhat unusual event.

Stepping inside, she heard the murmur of people greeting each other: she felt the dark, womb-like embrace of the building like a snug blanket, enclose her mind. She was not a pious person. In fact, she really had no idea why she had come at all. The dream was just a dream. It meant nothing, she told herself and yet, here she was, being enclosed, enveloped by a religion that had lasted two thousand years.

As a child, she was made to read the Bible. That work stated that this religion had gone on for thousands of years before that tumultuous event of Jesus being born and killed. So, who was right and who was wrong? She had questions that needed to be answered. Perhaps the Vicar might spare some time? He would be the yay against her nay.

Elise stared from her darkened pew down to where the first window shed light in glorious technicolour. St. Peter, in flowing gown, dispensing goodness. Where it shone on the pews, the dark stain became a lighter hue. When tree branches bobbed outside, the colours danced, like a living rainbow. She wished she had the courage to sit in one of those pews but it was not possible, not now.

A man in dishevelled clothing stood by the end of the pew where Elise sat. She moved along. He sat down beside her, then looked at her, a smile on his grubby face.

How’do,” he said. Elise scowled at his loudness.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

There were the usual hymn books in the recess in the pew in front of them. Elise picked up one and started leafing through it. Not knowing quite what else to do. All this while an organist, somewhere down the front, had been playing Christian music, quietly. Suddenly, the tone and volume increased. Elise looked up, the Vicar had entered and was making his way to the pulpit.

“Brethren,” he announced, “Welcome, this beautiful day in God’s Holy Universe.”

Everyone was suddenly silent.

“We will sing ‘Now Thank We All Our God’.

There was a shuffling as people got their hymn books out and stood. The organist gustily started the first line, then played it again and everyone joined in. At least, that is what Elise thought. Rifling through her hymn book, she found the verses and started to sing along with the others but her eyes roved about. In a pew down along one side, behind a pillar, she saw a young couple much more engrossed in themselves rather than attending to the Service.

Sighing, Elise moved her eyes back to the Pulpit spying, as she did so, a couple of little children fighting each other for a toy.

The man beside her was singing lustily, but he wasn’t reading the words in the hymn book. Oh no! he was singing words that she could not distinguish. Finally, the last notes rang out. The organ stopped playing and everyone sat down.

It was not a long Service, unlike some, but the Sermon was interesting, she had to admit. Knowing that some Vicars drone on and on, taking forever to come to their point. This Vicar had it sewn up. Every word had meaning and his point was well rounded.

As the people filed out, the Vicar shook everyone’s hand. When it came to Elise, she let the man from her pew go in front. “Good sermon Vicar! Top o’ the morning’ to yer.” he turned to look at Elise. Sorry I frightened you.” he said.

Elise dismissed his apology saying, “don’t worry about it. You didn’t frigh…….”

“Oh, I think I did,” replied the man swiftly. And just as swiftly, he left the church and was gone.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” said the Vicar. “He pops in every few months, when he is in the neighbourhood. Now, did you enjoy the Service?”

“Yes….but I wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Knew you might,” he replied.

“Is there somewhere we could sit?” She was a little fidgety, now it came to the crunch.

“Back in the church.” He ushered her inside and they walked down to where the sun was streaming through the rainbow-like window, shining down on the pews.

After they sat down, he said, “ask away.”

“Well, I had this dream, that I was in a church and the figure in the window spoke to me. It was Saint Bartholomew himself.”

“He spoke to you? I hope he was kind,” said the Vicar.

“Oh, he was but…..He said it was up to me to help all the lost souls. A very vivid dream, it was, Vicar! I am by no means a staunch believer in an Almighty Being, able to change our ways, or being able to help us when things go wrong. Can you explain to me, how that happens? Do all the things asked of this being get done? I would not call myself an Atheist, more a nothing-ist. Up until now, I have no beliefs whatsoever other than Nature and natural things, the Earth and its ways and such.”

“That is not a bad thing, my dear. I am not sure how to convince you that what I believe is very real to me, as it is to those who come to this church for the succour it gives them. Faith is just that, having Faith in an Almighty God.”

“But…..”

“I know, I have not answered your questions. You must come to it yourself. He is there, waiting for you to make up your mind to come to Him in your own time.”

“I don’t know how. I don’t even know if I want to. I only know I am following the dream, finding out where it leads. I am not looking for Salvation. I’ve nothing or no reason to be Saved. So why Vicar, why?”

“There is no time today. But if you will come and see me in the week, I will make time for more discussion on the matter. You are the stray lamb that needs to be encouraged back into the fold, I quote.” He smiled at her. “The Bible is good for lots of things. Touching little stories that give one confidence; that explain some events, give a person hope. The Bible is a microcosm of all the good and ill in the world, explained and shown up for what it is. Do you have a Bible?”

“Currently, no!”

He produced his own Bible and gave it to her. “Read some each day. It does not matter where you start. Old Testament, New Testament. Each tell their own tales. Don’t take everything too literally. It wasn’t meant for that purpose. It is, if you will, a kind of blueprint for life. Write down the questions you want to ask and we will find time to discuss them together.”

Leaving by the side door, she wandered back to the path outside, through the graveyard with its old headstones, some at an angle where subsidence had made them teeter. They had been here for centuries, as had the church, as she might be one day. But no, she thought, I will probably be cremated. That is the modern thing these days.


She attended the Vicarage every week for several months. His Bible was a fount of knowledge. Some of it she found revealing, other parts had to be explained to her. All in all, she felt she understood the Christian religion better. It had not made her a believer,