Mercies

"Morning by morning new mercies I see"

Do we really know what that looks like? 

It's the smile of a granny who says all her extra blankets and guest bedding went to relatives on the shoreline who were hit by the tsunami, and she's told her daughters not to visit until spring. There's just no guest bedding left in the house. 

It's the peace in a newlywed couple looking forward to their second strawberry harvest next spring. Last year's harvest came in just after the earthquake. The couple was  fine, and the berries were good, but the agricultural co-op that was supposed to buy their berries was shut down in those early weeks after the disaster. So they just distributed their very first harvest to their neighbors instead, and accepted smiles as payment. 

It's a bit harder to see at first in the jeweler's rented house. His two-generation jewelry/watch/eyeglasses store and home got wiped off of the cityscape. Everything is gone. The wave was big enough to deposit a car on the roof of the bank. Smaller buildings had no chance. 

With his wife and son, he took shelter in a third floor apartment after the quake. The water indoors came up to their knees. Water was swirling outside the window, all the way to the top. 

Mrs. jeweler said it was like being in a fishbowl. She heard debris crashing together outside the window, and knew that if the window broke, they would all be dead. 

It held. Mercy on March 11. 

Snow season just started. Can you imagine your local jeweler asking for a little kerosene stove to warm his house this winter? 

Yes, everyone knows the dangers, but warmth takes priority. It's the easiest and cheapest option that still works during a power outage. 

Maybe bringing it by will be another morning's mercy he can see.