This week’s post is
straight from my practice journal. This time my oldest son would accompany me. The
timer set for 15 minutes and we began our separate assignments. He was to write
sixteen spelling words into sentences for homework and I was to craft those
same spelling words into a blog. Writing without lifting my pen these third
grade words took on a life of their own. When the buzzer sounded I only added
the last line and have left it as is--unpolished. By the way, my son was done
with his sentences in only five minutes. J (spelling words are bolded) The unexpected surprise was not only was
this fiction—but I think I know that little girl…
Hopeful Again
How do I begin?
How does one retell
a story of an unhappy girl who found
life through the friendly Farmer?
Her life was desolate, desperate, and despairing. But what
He said…caused her to feel hopeful.
Hope was a foreign thought and feeling. She, the scrawny
girl with the scraggly pig tails. The one always shamed and treated unfair by the cross Mrs. Rally and
deemed unimportant to most of the
townspeople.
Unlike the
others, this same girl was accepted by the Farmer.
She remembers that day vividly.
The sky darkened by heavy clouds pouring out buckets of rain
to the town. The dirt roads were wet, and soon her boots, the ones worn through
at the toe, were splattered with mud. Even the hem of her dress was covered
with mud.
The rain and mud would not stop her. She promised the town
seamstress to deliver a package. Mrs. Rally said if she was a good helper she would give her one quarter—a
shiny one. One whole quarter would give her milk and oats for a week. She must
be careful as to not slip in the mud
and drop the package. She walked slowly. The rain pounded down on her. Clothes
soaked through. She was almost at her destination—the Farmer’s house. Just a
few steps from His porch lightening flashed and peals of thunder shook the sky.
It frightened the poor girl and she jumped at the noise. Sadly, she lost her footing and landed
in a pot-hole—filled with mud.
Unhurt, she stood
up. Tears mixed in with the raindrops as she reached to pick up the package
from the mud. Silently she wept. The
package wet, soggy—completely ruined. She stood there for what seemed like
hours as the rain pelted her skin.
“How will I ever remake
this package and make it new again for the Farmer?”
She thought of the shiny quarter. The milk. The oats. She
wouldn’t have any of it. Only be
shamed once again by Mrs. Rally.
The porch light suddenly lit up the porch and the door
creaked open.
She looked down. Pretending to be invisible. Pretending it
was just a dream.
The Farmer spoke. “What have we here, Little One?”
His voice was kind. He gently took the package from her
grip.
She dared to look up.
And when she did…
She saw Him looking at her...
with kind eyes and a smile.
And she knew.
Everything was going to be okay.
I need to know everything is going to be okay…how about you?
Lord, let us see Your eyes and hear Your gentle voice and know…You are
near to pick up the mess and make everything new again.
On the journey with you...
lk
Relevant Worship
Embrace (It’s All Gonna Be Okay) by Jake Hamilton
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VphBebphKLY
Reflective
Scripture
The LORD watches over all who love him. Psalm 145:20
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who
are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18
