(Pictures taken on the hike we took for my birthday, Dripping Springs.)
Rushing through the mall on the way to the parking lot, I noticed a small boy, about 4-years-old. He held a gigantic tube filled with red, blue, yellow and green bubblegum balls. He looked worried and his voice sounded scared when he said, “Mommy? Mommy, where are you?”
I leaned down. “If you can’t find your mommy, I know someone who can help.” I took the lead and headed for a near-by cashier. “They will call your mother over the intercom. Whenever you get lost you can ask one of the people who work in the store to help you.”
The man behind the counter turned toward us. “This man works here,” I explained, “you see the tag he wears around his neck.”
The child nodded.
I explained, “This little boy is lost. Will you please call his mother?”
The child peeked at the clerk from behind the Bubblegum tube.
“What’s your name?” the man asked.
I leaned in, trying to hear the whisper. The boy seemed unsure and shy as he mumbled.
“Peter?” I asked.
That’s when I heard a strange sound, like a whistle or bird call.
The boy’s eyes lit up. “I heard my dad!”
The sound came again and the boy turned. I saw a large man step out from the racks of clothes that were near-by. “Come here, you Rascal,” he said to the boy. And the child ran happily to his father.
Jesus said that His sheep know His voice and won’t follow a stranger. Of all the voices, mine and the store clerk, the one that brought comfort and joy to that child was the voice he knew, his daddy’s voice. Whenever we feel confused, or lost, we only need to tune our hearts to listen for the voice of our Shepherd, our Abba Father to know that all He is near by and there is no need to fear.
Grandad put new batteries in Caleb's toothbrush and now it works? (Taken in July)
Ben and Caleb next to pink flowers (b/c Grammy asked them to pose)
It may surprise non-writers to know how insecure a writer can feel. It’s a constant battle of “who would want to read this anyway,” and “I have nothing valuable to say.” The problem is that type of thinking stops me from even trying and when I don’t write I am just miserable. So, I guess I should do it for my health and well being regardless of if there is an impact or not. . .
All that to leads up to this really good story (at least it was good for me.) I was just feeling like a big lug who should never try to write another story when we decided to SKYPE with our grandsons Ben and Caleb. It was pretty funny to watch them climb all over Josh while we talked.
Then Caleb, (who is three-years-old, and just over a bad case of the flu) said, “Grammy, what happened to the dragons in the forest?”
At first, the question confused me, and then I felt stunned because it’s been over 3 months since we’ve been together. “Did I tell you a story about dragons?”
Caleb nodded.
“Well,” I said, “it’s fall now and dragons love fall because one of their favorite things is to go out in the woods when the leaves are falling and dance all around. Then, they look up so they can watch the leaves floating down through the air. They like it so much they throw their heads back and laugh. But do you know what happens when dragons laugh?”
His big brown eyes were full of wonder. (I told you SKYPE is wonderful)
“Fire spurts out. And each leaf catches on fire and the sky is full of bits of fire like great big fireflies. But then all that’s left of the pretty fall leaves is ashes.”
Now, I tell you that little story, not because it’s fabulous but because when we talked to our grandsons, the thing Cable remembered about me was a story. Something I just made up and can’t even remember. In his own way, he reminded me that I am a story teller, and I’d better keep on keeping on because little people—I love—and maybe others too, might be listening and just waiting to see what happens next. Thank you Caleb. This blog is for you. Love, Grammy.
