Jane

Jane's breath stung like fire on the way into her lungs and expelled like smoke as it departed her lips. There was a sharp bite waiting in the cold night air. Around her, shapes stalked in the shadows. Treacherously her imagination made them into frightening things, bears, wolves, ghosts. With a little bit of effort on her part, she reasoned the shapes back into the spare tractor wheel, a stack of hay and an engine draped in canvas. It was late autumn 1926 in Paddock Wood, Kent, England.

She padded quickly away from the crowded tumultuous house to the old quiet barn. Quiet as a mouse, seeking safety and solitude. This was the eve before lots of modern things. Automated washing machines for instance. Her mothers' hands were rubbed raw from the washboard and blistered from the ringer. Electricity was something that one only found in the city. It was back when women were less. Children were expected to chasten their true nature into something tamer and quieter for the convenience of their fathers -lest their fathers' wrath come upon them, which it did often. Sometimes he raged for no reason at all. In these trying days, one small child amongst twelve little ones, Jane didn't mind that often no one noticed she was missing.

She pulled against the big barn door, opened the mouth of the ark and slipped inside. It was warmer there, only just. It was lonelier too. She'd temporarily fled the chaos of the house, but she'd also fled the love of her mother. Solitude was a wonder, but it also made the cold creep through the moonlit gaps of the barn wall. It wandered in like the icy fingers of a ghoul. That west wall took the brunt of the winter wind and rain. It was always gap-toothed and a great place to hide away with a stolen book and watch the world go by through peepholes in the weathered shingles.

To pass the time, little Jane thought of her favourite bible stories. For a while, she was Jonah in the whale. Then the barn was an Ark that Jane had built, and she was Noah waiting with increasing desperation for a dove to signal her rescue. Then she was Daniel in the cave, and the shadows in the barn became prowling lions. She felt scared then, even though she knew that God had been there with Daniel. She prayed for a sign that God was with her too, that she wasn't alone. Jane's eyes closed as tightly as she could manage. Partly because she didn't want to see the shadows and partly because she felt it was the right way to go about praying.

After ten racing heartbeats, she felt a little better, a presence warming her soul. She slowly opened her eyes and knew she was being watched. Something silent stirred the air in the darkness above her. She could feel its essence. Whatever it was, it was gentle, wise and kind. It knew she was lonely. She knew it had come because she had asked God for a sign.

Again the silent movement stirred the air above her. Closer this time. A wisp of warmth in the cold darkness. This time the creature made itself known to her—a barn owl. It landed so close that Jane could have touched it, but of politeness, she didn't. The Owl had a pale haloed face. She ruffled and smoothed her bright priestly robe of feathers as she settled by Jane's side.

"Thanks for keeping me company", Jane whispered to the Owl.

The Owl faced Jane and blinked her beautiful dark eyes at the little girl.

In her mind, Jane heard the Owl say -You're welcome. I came because you asked Him. He sent me to keep you company. You will never be alone. He's always with you.

Jane smiled. She knew the He the Owl spoke of was the very same He who had made both Jane and the Owl. He was the hero of all her Sunday school stories. The Owl has reminded Jane that He was here too.

As Jane grew into a young woman, the world settled into war. For many years, when she had need, Jane had fled to the old barn, and always the barn owls would come and sit vigil with her. All the while, the Owl never spoke to her again. She only listened.

One night Jane sat in the barn contemplating her future.

"I'm going to join the Navy," she told the Owl. The Owl only watched her.

"I'm going to be a nurse," she explained. The Owl blinked, stretched one beautiful wing and replaced it against her side elegantly.

"I'll go by boat far away, and I'm never going to see you again." Jane finished. There was a little earthquake of sorrow in her whispered words.

The Owl turned her pretty face to Jane and chittered her beak. Jane sighed a heavy breath. What did she expect the Owl to say.

"I wanted to say, thanks for keeping me company all these years", She whispered to the Owl.

As time had passed, Jane had wondered many times if she'd imagined the words the Owl had thought into her head long ago. She wondered about the memory again on this, their last night together. That was until the Owl spoke again.

You're welcome. I came because you asked Him. He sent me to keep you company. You will never be alone. He's always with you. Thought the Owl -loudly enough that Jane could hear her again. Jane smiled.

That week Jane enlisted with the Women's Royal Naval Service and eventually travelled to Australia. Both amid her service in the war and in a strange new land, she never felt alone. He who turned water into wine, He who healed the sick and comforted the sorrowful was always with her.

She was reminded again and again of His presence because He would often send an Owl to sit by her quietly.

On the last edge of the war, she met a soldier named Goerge. George was tall and blond. He was full of jokes and was a hard worker. In times of peace, he grew vegetables to sell at market. She loved George, and as she walked down the aisle to marry him, she held her bible in her hands with a bouquet of flowers bound to it by a silk ribbon.

They settled in a small Australian town named Figtree in a big white house shaped comfortingly like an old barn. Together they had seven children, two boys and five girls. Her children grew up to have children of their own. All of them knew the legend of the owls. Jane made sure to introduce them all to the one who had knitted them together. She took the time to explain that it was with great intention and great love that He had made them. He who was always near.

Many happy and hard years later, when Jane was old, her hair had turned white. She and George moved from their big house to a small flat in a town nearby named Dapto. The retirement village was built on the same land where George had first made camp with the army. Life was circling back.

Her children were all grown, and the flat was sometimes quiet and lonely. She had a shelf in her room, on it gathered a collection of owls. Some wood, Some stone, some crystal, some crocheted- they were reminders of her old friend. It was near Christmas, and she would be able to see all the family soon. The children, the grandchildren and her great-grandchildren.

For now, she knew she wasn't alone. As she lay in her bed, she prayed to the one who had gifted her this long and wonderful existence. All her family were on their way from all over Australia to visit together, and His comfort had followed her all the days of her life.

The next day Jane grew deathly ill. In her hospital bed high up on the hill in the town of Wollongong, near where she had raised them, her children kissed her goodbye. None of them noticed the barn owl sitting outside her window, keeping them all company, waiting to fly her home. Even when Jane had to finally go, she knew she didn't leave her children alone. Even then she knew He was near.

I wrote down this tale on the 12th of July 2021. It would have been Jane's hundredth birthday. She's home now, back with her ever-present friend. When He greeted her in the halls of the Fathers house, He was no stranger to her in the end.

We who remain visit the little garden where Jane's ashes rest. We lay wreaths of lavender there and think of her. Often a lone owl is lingering in the eaves of the tree nearby. To this day, her descendants frequently report that in times of great loneliness or pain, an owl will come and wait close by, day or night.

As I sit down to write this story, in the early hours of the morning, an elusive Powerful Owl is waiting as a sentinel on the fence post outside my window. They are the biggest owls in Australia. A magnificent sight. It's quite a thing for this sort of Owl to let itself be seen by humans. She ruffles her feathers and settles her priestly grey robe against the chill of the coming dawn. She lingers, even though she's looked me in the eyes twice now. At dawn on the day of Janes hundredth birthday, this is not a coincidence.

I tell the Owl I will name her Jane. Like Jane, she reminds me of the one who sent her to keep me company. She reminds me I will never be alone. He who made her silent wings and sharp intelligence is always with me. All I ever need to do is remember that He is near.

That truth within us all is what remains of my Grandmother Jane today—knowing the one who overcomes all trials. Knowing He is with us in every sorrow and every joy.

Even now, Jane spreads her wings over us all. She spans eternity. She is everlasting. She is loved.

Happy Birthday Gran.