THE CLIFF OF HOPE 

By Tessa Harvey

    Wendy drove without paying heed to the fact that she had motored off the road and was driving over a fairly level field she had known since a small girl. The sense of urgency was too strong to ignore. She felt as though she had been caught in a pit of self-centredness. Now all that mattered was her family. Finally, she came to a gate, parked the car carefully on a solid patch of hard ground where the boys from school had once played cricket.
    Thankful her shoes were sensible, she went over the gate and heard her husband calling their two boys, pleading for them to answer.
    Wendy had never climbed the rugged escarpment herself, finding after a few minutes she definitely had no head for heights and wisely and carefully retreated. 
    Her husband was holding a torch and she picked her way over the now uneven ground, putting a hand on his arm. He jumped in shock. "Quiet a minute," she whispered, "I can hear Chris. I'm sure of it."
    Chris had been struggling desperately to answer his dad and way too small. But mum had come - she heard him.
    James headed for the boulder. "Careful James," his wife warned. "Something isn't right." Rain was threatening. She saw a small white face. "Zak fell," Chris said, miserably, "in a hole."
    Wendy reached in and pulled out her youngest son.
    "Chris, go to the car. Dad and I will get Zak, okay!" He did as he was told, shining his brother's torch.
    Wendy thought of a Bible verse about God being a light for our path and pleaded, "help us please, God."
    Being smaller, James helped her into the narrow cave-like opening. Izak had fallen  a few metres but was managing to pull himself up, though his head was bleeding a little. Carefully his parents guided him out. As they reached their car, the storm broke. Rain dislodged the boulder. Thank God they were safe.

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