C elebrating family and Father every day, evenings here find us gathering around for bedtime stories, then tucking in with prayers, whispered and honest.
And inevitably, after the quilts are pulled up and cheeks kissed, a child will ask (usually that deliciously crazy Malakai-guy), “Tell us a story when you were a little girl, Mama…”
The power of story….
Tonight, a gracious friend tells our story of when she was a little girl… So the children and I snuggle in for a memorable story of faith. Maybe you’d like to gather your littles close with a cup of tea and listen too?
Once upon a time…
My name is Bobbie Wolgemuth. You can call me Miss Bobbie, as the kids in our neighborhood call me. I’m a grandmother and I like to tell stories. All the children I know like for me to tell them “real” stories. So I’m going to tell you a true story about a little girl I know who would like to keep her name a secret. You can be sure that every bit of her story is true. She wanted you to know what happened to her when she was only eight years old.
Let me start by telling you that this little girl had everything most children would ever dream of owning. Her father was a doctor and often brought home wonderful gifts and toys for his daughter. And her mother was very fancy and wore lovely clothes and jewelry. This girl lived in a big, red brick house and went swimming or rode her bike whenever she liked. A very proper English nanny took care of the girl and her sisters during the week while their mother was out attending fashion shows and other special events. On Sundays, everyone in the family slept late except her dad, who played golf at the country club nearby.
Most people would say that the hazel-eyed youngster was a nice enough girl, with a lot of talent. She took piano lessons and enjoyed playing for her mother’s friends. And, even though she had what most people would call a very nice life, this little girl told me that she often felt sad and angry on the inside. Sometimes she thought about doing mean things when no one was watching, like the day at school when she decided to use really wicked words, yelling mean things to a classmate when the teacher wasn’t listening. Yes, this girl told me that she acted sweet and kind in front of grown-ups, but on the inside she had hateful, ugly feelings and was very selfish.
One of the best things this girl remembers about her life as a child is that a family of angels lived across the street from her house. I say angels because that is what the girl herself called them. Their real names were Mr. and Mrs. Lay. They had a daughter named Martha, and the neighbor girl from our story says Martha was the brightest angel of all. There was something about Martha’s home that spilled onto everyone who walked in the door. Her mother usually greeted the neighborhood kids with a smile, a hug and a “Welcome children; please come inside.”
Then Mrs. Lay would sit and talk and ask questions about the children’s day. Near the end of most visits, everyone would go over to the brown piano in the corner of the playroom and sing some special songs.
The girl who told me the story said that she loved those songs. She said that at night when she was alone in bed, she would think about that family across the street. Why did she feel so special there? She wondered what made Martha’s family so different from her own. She thought about the words to the songs. There was something about those songs that made her feel happy inside, as if an angel had come to visit her.
The little girl asked Martha about the wonderful feeling at her house. Martha told the girl that it was because Somebody very special lived there. His name was Jesus.
The little girl wondered why Jesus had come to Martha’s house but not to hers. She wished that He would come to live at her house too. The little girl remembered that her grandmother had taught her how to pray, so she said her prayers and hoped that angels would visit her home while she slept.
Every Sunday morning Martha’s family climbed into their car, and off they went to church. One Sunday the little girl was invited to go along. Excited as a little butterfly, she put on her prettiest dress and scrunched into the backseat next to Martha. Maybe this will be the place to find out about Jesus, the little girl hoped.
Inside the church building, beautiful sounds boomed out from the organ, and everyone stood to sing like one huge choir. The sound was so delightful that the little girl thought she must be in heaven. In Sunday school, she listened to the teacher and decided that Jesus lived there in that church, too. But how could she take Him home with her? How could she tell her mom and dad about Him?
Later that day, back in the neighborhood, Mrs. Lay sat on the porch with the little girl. “I am glad you liked church,” she said with a smile. “What was your favorite part?”
“Well, my teacher hugged me and we sang some songs and she gave me my very own Bible,” said the little girl. “And she said that Jesus can live in my heart. But I don’t know if He wants to come into my heart.”
The girl asked a lot of questions until finally Mrs. Lay said, “Would you like to invite Jesus to live in your heart today?”
The little girl spoke right up, “Oh, I’d like that very much. But what about all the hateful things I’ve said and done?”
“That is exactly why Jesus died on the cross,” said Mrs. Lay. “All of us have ugly things in our hearts that need to be forgiven. Jesus makes you a brand-new person on the inside. Then He helps you to obey Him.”
At that moment, the angels must have been swirling all around the neighborhood, for the little girl did ask Jesus to forgive her. She didn’t wait another minute to invite Him to come and live in her heart and make her home like Martha’s.
Something made the girl feel very happy when she sang the song “Into My Heart” that she had learned at Sunday school. She would tell you that she still wasn’t perfect after that, but she did have a new best friend named Jesus to help her. She read her new Bible and sang the beautiful songs. That very day, the little girl took Jesus home with her, and everyone soon noticed she was happier and kinder that she had ever been. Every day she knelt down next to her bed and prayed that Jesus would fill her heart and her home with His love. And He did.
The girl wants you to know that Jesus can live in your house too. He can change your whole family. The girl in the story hopes that you will pray for your family and the kids in your neighborhood. She hopes that you will sing the songs of the angels. And the girl said that she’s glad that now you know her story.
By the way, if you are wondering how I know so much about this girl, I think it’s time to tell you. You see, I’m a grandmother now, but I was that little girl a long time ago.
If you and yours would like to have tea again with Bobbie Wolgemuth, you’re warmly invited over to Tea Parties with A Purpose for thoughts on tea, art, creativity, and fun for children…of all ages!
And consider Bobbie’s latest book:
Tea Parties with a Purpose: 10 Simple and Fun Party Ideas for Kids of All Ages
Photos: a tea here with our miniature set, quilt by my Mama
