The Mosaic Mummy

Once upon a minute..........

          The casket was open as the mourners filed by. A few folks would pause and kneel as they murmured a prayer. Mostly the people kept moving, drifting by the dead body like a slowly meandering creek. Some folks cried while clutching their hankies and blowing their noses. The old woman in the casket was wrapped from head to toe in multicolored strips of cloth. She looked almost like a stained glass mummy or a mosaic mummy.

          On the day of her funeral, the undertakers sealed her coffin. They felt nothing for this woman, she was just another body in their business. Smoking a cigarette, the hearse driver waited for the coffin to be loaded for the short ride to the church. He had seen the lady who looked like a mummy but didn't think much about her. He had enough to think about with problems in his own life. This lady was just another eccentric who chose to live her life wrapped in her wounds. Once the coffin was locked into place in the back of the hearse, he drove to the Temporal Temple.

           The church building was crowded. It wasn't because the old woman had a lot of friends, she didn't, people came to hear the preacher dude. He was a great speaker who always gave them something to think about. Listening to him was a form of entertainment. He would wax eloquently from the pulpit and make his listeners feel good. The people came because they wanted to feel good. The old woman wrapped in multicolored cloths was just a sideshow. The Temporal Temple had a large congregation drawn mostly by the charismatic tongue of the preacher dude. The pall bearers finished rolling the casket to the front of the church and everyone took their seats in anticipation.

          He swayed back and forth slowly before he began. He was like a gently cresting wave. He smiled a sad smile, he genuinely did feel sad at the passing of another member of his church. The preacher dude knew some pertinent facts about the old woman's life from the few distant relatives who provided some details. Her husband and children had died years ago. The woman hadn't worked in years. Over twenty years ago she lost her job; the last of many lost jobs due to illnesses and injuries. The neighbors never saw her anymore, her physical condition would not permit her to go out and the neighbors never went in. There really wasn't much to say about the old recluse of a lady and yet the preacher dude had a lot to say.

          His cadence seemed to pick up rhythm as his speech went on. The organ player and drummer kept up with the pulse of his powerful tempo. He went from a gently cresting wave to a rolling sea billow. He was united in storm with the wind of the pipe organ and thunderous drums. Shouts of "Amen!" from the audience were like flashes of lightening that ignited the preacher dude to soar higher. The congregants forgot about the old woman as they listened and shouted. The show was almost over, the preacher dude was beginning to wind down. 

          As was customary, the preacher dude invited anyone to come forward if they had a few words to say. There was a momentary pause in the funerary proceedings as no one stood up. Suddenly, a teenage boy stepped forward. Nobody recognized him, he wasn't a member of their youth group. He went to the podium and leaned toward the microphone and began to speak. The organ and drums were silent. As he spoke, he turned toward the preacher dude and asked a question: "Sir, why is it that you never told us the reason this lady was wrapped in multicolored cloths?" Before he could answer, the boy continued. 

          The young man shared how he and his sister used to do yard work for the woman before they moved to another neighborhood. She would pay them in cookies, fruitcake and pennies. She gave them what she had. One day, as the two youngsters sat munching on some fruitcake, the boy asked her why she wore all of those strips of brightly colored cloths. He said to the old woman: "Every time I see you, there's another multicolored strip of cloth wrapped around you. Soon you'll be wrapped from head to toe! Why are you all wrapped up?" The old woman leaned heavily on her walker and hobbled over to a faded purple chair.

          To the boy and girl, the old woman looked almost ablaze as she sunk into the faded purple chair wrapped in her multicolored cloths. She said she began wrapping herself years ago. She never wanted to be a burden on other people with her pain and troubles. So each time she was hurt, she would wrap her wound in a brightly colored cloth. She reasoned, correctly, that folks would not know she was hurting because she was clad in gay attire. She could continue to be around other people and hide her wounds. With each new wound, she would wrap another layer around her body.

          When she was still able to attend church, the folks who saw her were patronizingly courteous. They labeled her a harmless old eccentric who made life interesting. Some even asked her about her brightly colored wraps. She would just smile weakly and say she liked to sow and then they would leave her alone. As church folk, they had done their duty by spending a minute with a less fortunate person. The years went by, the wrapping continued and nobody noticed her wounds.

          The girl asked the old woman a question: "But mam, don't you want to be healed from your wounds?" The old lady smiled weakly and replied almost jokingly: "Of course I do, but I don't want to bother anybody and now there's not much of me left to wrap. Folks are busy doing church activities and I wouldn't want them to waste time on an old woman like me. I'm just a wounded old soul. Besides, I've learned to be content in my lonely wrappings. My wounds keep me company. I can relive them one wrapping at a time."

           The boy and girl left that day feeling very sad. How could they help the old woman heal? How could they make her feel valued and loved? They knew there wasn't much time left as she was very old and very feeble. They knew from the experience of watching their Grandpa die, that death would come soon for the old woman. There had to be a way to help the old woman heel before she died. They sat in silence and pondered the moment.

          It was almost as if a volcano erupted in the boys soul as he shouted:"Her life story! We can tell the world her life story!"  The two discussed how they could spread the word about the woman's story and help folks to recognize the hidden pain of people. They agreed that nobody should have to live life all wrapped up in pain by themselves. The young girl seemed to glow with the dawning of new ideas: "Even if we can't remove physical pain we don't have to remove ourselves from their presence." They designed a story that would teach people about hidden pain. They called it the: "Mosaic Menorah." They knew a mosaic was a multicolored gathering of different objects that created artwork. They knew that a Menorah was a lampstand that shined light. They hoped they could shine hope and healing on hurting people through the multicolored wrappings of the old woman.

          The boy and girl went to see the old woman the next day. She could barely move as she answered the door. The two teenagers excitedly shared their idea with the woman. Her shoulders appeared to take on the advent of buoyancy. Her lips curled upward as her smile tightened the wrinkles on her face. For the first time in years she felt loved and valued. All because someone spent some time with her and shared their presence.

          Finishing his message, the boy turned to the preacher dude and said:

"Thanks for your time.

Go do something nice for somebody.