Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are色

Darkness had become Emmas life since the accident. The impact had left her permanently blind. The loss of her only child was the greatest burden to bear. Nothing would console her aching heart. No one could help relieve her pain. Not even James, who had sat by her bed through all the weeks of recovery, could comfort her.

True, it was not her fault. Emma had pulled to a stop at the intersection when the lights had changed from amber to red. She could still hear three-year-old Kate singing her favourite nursery rhyme from her child safety seat in the back of the family car. The truck had come through the red-light opposite and swerved to miss a motorcycle. The truck had lost control and veered directly into Emmas car, slamming it into the car behind. The collision had also crushed her car into a van parked beside her, near the kerb.

There wasnt much she could remember of the accident itself, except for the melody of her childs song resounding in her ears. Emma hadnt even been aware her sweet young daughter had been laid to rest until she awoke from her coma three weeks later. It had been the same distressing morning she had discovered she would never again, gaze into the eyes of her beloved husband. Her heart ached so much she thought she would die.
It must have worried James to see her this way. Even after weeks of counseling and rehabilitation, she never smiled. One Sunday after the sermon, her mother led her to the Sunday School hall where coffee was being served. James told Emma he needed to speak to their pastor and it was some time before he returned to take her home.

The following morning James stayed home a little later than usual.

‘Im waiting for a delivery,’ he explained to Emma over breakfast.

Emma heard the doorbell first and edged her way to the front door, using her cane along the walls to guide her. James came to her side, and with an arm around her waist, he directed her to the front door.

‘Its here. Where do you want us to put it?’

Emma didnt recognize the cheerful voice. She assumed it was a just a delivery man. James led her to a chair in the lounge room so she would not be in harms way. James kissed her briefly, preventing her from asking any questions. ‘Wait here a moment, honey.’

‘This way!’ James called.

Emma could hear furniture being dragged across the carpeted floor. Muffled sounds came closer as James gave directions into the room. It was obviously no small package.
Excitement crept into Emmas emotions. ‘What is it James? Please tell me.’

A few moments later, James thanked the delivery men and closed the front door.

‘James?’

Without answering, James led Emma across the room to a long, flat stool and gently pulled her down to sit beside him. He reached for her hands and placed them gently on the keyboard. Her hands drew back.

‘A piano?’ Emma was puzzled.

‘Play for me?’ he asked softly.

‘But how can I see what I’m playing?’

James helped her adjust the stool so she could comfortably reach the keys. Gently lifting one of her hands, he helped her strike the keys. They both laughed and together they played a melody using two fingers. The words came easily.

Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are色

Emma began to cry and hugged her husband closely. She knew he had been conscious of her the pain. It would be the foundation of her healing; a healing of the heart.

Emma continues to play her piano. She is a songwriter and sings at their family church.

A new melody echoes in her heart. A melody of Gods grace and love.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

[Author of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star: Unknown Public domain]

Archived in
Christian Reads by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

 

They Parted His Garments

And when they had crucified him, they parted his garments, casting lots upon them, what every man should take. Mark 15:24

This stripping of Jesus was so appalling that it was referred to in all four Gospels.

Matthew, who observed that this occurrence was a fulfilment of Psalm 22:18 They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.

Mark, who himself fled naked from the mob in the garden.

Luke 23:34 Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots.

John also refers to the Psalm, as Matthew did, but also gives the most detail and accurate description of the whole agony of the crucifixion.

The Christ lived in purity and dignity of manhood. Almost all pictures of the crucifixion give us the view of a dignified Jesus. But one gospel records the scene They stripped Him, John said. Naked He came from His mothers womb, and naked He hangs from a tree.

Adam experienced the shame of nakedness in Eden because of his transgression. So too, the Son of God took our sinful flesh and the shame of our nakedness upon Himself.

I believe there were two elements to the crucifixion; one of the physical and the other of the mental suffering. Jesus was despised and rejected, even by His own friends. He was oppressed by sinners, held in contempt by the soldiers, cursed by men and stripped of His garments.

His garments. His seamless robe. A garment fit for a king. His clothing wouldnt have been a beggars rags.

But when I read Psalm 93:1 The LORD reigneth, he is clothed with majesty; the LORD is clothed with strength, wherewith he hath girded himself: the world also is stablished, that it cannot be moved. It puts a put a whole new perspective and horror to the story. They parted His garments and cast lots

穢 Chrissy Siggee

Scripture Verses used are from the King James Version of the Bible

Archived in
Christian Reads by Chrissy at Riverside Peace

 

Butterfly Cakes and Parenting Skills

No! And that’s my final word.

Sarah was irritable. Her twin daughters, Lucy and Annie, had been arguing with her for almost fifteen minutes. They had been invited to their best friends Amy ‘teen theme’ birthday party the following Saturday. The problem was she would be eight; the same age as the twins.

The girls stomped off to their bedroom just as the telephone rang. Sarah took a deep breath and released it slowly.

Hello. Rubbing her forehead, she leaned against the wall to ease the weariness that threatened to overtake her.

Well, you sound happy. It was Connie, Amy’s mother.

Hello Connie. I’m sorry, sometimes I find parenting a little stressful.

You? Of all people Sarah. You’re a great parent. You always seem to have it all under control.

Well not today. What can I do for you?

I was just checking if the girls are coming on Saturday.

Actually, it was the party we were discussing. I just don’t feel the theme is appropriate for eight-year-olds. Peter and I made the decision a long time ago that they are not to attend a party which goes against our values.

Sarah cringed as she realized what she had said. Connie was a good friend who attended the same church.

Connie sighed on the other end of the phone. Can I be frank with you?

Sure, we’re friends.

It was Amy’s suggestion. In fact, she demanded it. Honestly, I have been trying to keep the peace around here. We received a letter from her teacher last week concerning Amy’s rebellious behaviour.

Sarah made herself busy at the stove.

Yesterday, we went shopping to buy her an outfit for the party. I have never been so embarrassed. Her performance was appalling. She insisted on purchasing the skimpiest pair of shorts I have ever seen and the top barely covered her. There wasn’t enough material to cover her navel. Connie’s voice reached an intense pitch.

Sarah stirred the contents of the saucepan. ‘Lord, why is it so hard to do what is right as a parent?’

Sarah, why does parenting have to be so hard?

I don’t think any parent finds it easy Connie. We aren’t born with the skills either. We all have to learn them’

Connie resumed talking before Sarah could finish. I was just telling my mother yesterday that I remember some of my own childhood birthday celebrations. We used to dress up in our Sunday best and eat those yummy cakes. You know those little ones? The ones you make so well. You scoop out the little piece from the top, and then add just the right size dollop of cream, before cutting that extra piece in half and sitting it in just the right spot on top, then sprinkling icing sugar over them to give it that perfect sweetness.

Butterfly cakes? Sarah smiled at Connie’s description. It almost sounds like parenting skills. You need just the right balance to get it right. She laughed at her own illustration.

Oh Sarah, I just had a marvellous idea. Why don’t I call all the parents and tell them I’ve changed the theme? It will be a good, old-fashion party for an eight-year-old girl. They can all dress in their Sunday best and you could make butterfly cakes. I think it’s about time I initiated some parenting skills. The first thing I’ll introduce is Christian values.

Sarah laughed. All right. I’ll talk to Peter tonight. He should be happy with the change, and yes, I think it’s a wonderful idea. Bye.

Goodbye Sarah.

Sarah was still smiling long after she hung up the phone. She turned to see the twins standing at the door, their arms folded stiffly.

What’s so wonderful? Annie asked sourly.

Well, first of all, go and get the flower-girl dresses you wore to Uncle Tony’s wedding and put them on the sewing table. Then, we need to start on some parenting skills.

What are you talking about? Lucy was totally confused.

I’m going to bake some butterfly cakes, and you two can help. It’s never too early to learn.

穢 Chrissy Siggee

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Archived in
Christian Reads by Chrissy at Riverside Peace