Faith for baby girl

     

                                    “Faith for ‘baby girl’ ”

There was once a little girl, 11 years old. She liked to say 11 and
a half because she knew that being a teenager was going to be
good. The quicker she got there she figured the better.  She was
alone, an orphan who had tragically lost her parents as a toddler.

While she had vague memories of being tucked in, and being

tenderly held by someone with prickly whiskers and a faint smell

of cologne she didn’t remember a lot, but what she did remember

was warm and safe, something to hold on to when she felt

particularly lonely.

But now she had a new family. Parents that had come one day
and swept her off her feet in a whirlwind of love and gentleness.

Smiling all the time.

After years in the orphanage she was going to have to adjust.
Not that the orphanage was bad understand… cause it wasn’t. It
was just that….it was an orphanage.. Kind of a waylay place for
lost kids, it was an in between place…in between wishes…in
between places to stay...in between friends… in between what
you were and what one day you were going to be.

Now things were different. No more in between, no lines to wait
to go to the bathroom, no one messing with your toothbrush.
Funny how little things, like keeping your toothbrush in the

bathroom and not next to your bed where you can keep an eye
on it meant personal freedom. But those worries were behind
her now. This was a new and exciting life because school was
starting soon and she had met several of her new classmates,
There was Ebony, and Desiree, Carlotta and, Brianna.

All of them seemed to be really nice. They hadn’t teased her or

anything. They were an interesting group of kids. It seemed that

all they had talked about were their new bicycles. This one
subject permeated every conversation. New bicycles, red or
blue or green, it didn’t seem to matter as long as it was new and
a particular brand. Schwyn, a new Schwyn.. Preferably the
Monarch model. With reflectors, a horn (not that cheesy bell
thing, that made that horrible ring-ring sound when you pushed
it with your thumb), a horn that blared like an angry French
horn, moving  everyone, man or beast that dared to cross your
path out of the way, and  of course it had to have  those plastic
multi-colored streamers that spilled out of the perfectly
finger-grooved, white plastic handle grips that accentuated the
glistening silver handle bars.

This one possession meant you were in with the cool kids, or if
not, you were fated to be forever consigned to the dregs of
society ….the walkers, those lowly folk who drearily trudged
to school, their club-like feet shuffling them slowly forward.

For you see … the school district could not afford school buses
and every child had to either bike to school or they had to walk.
The school district had created these elaborate walkways that
led to the school. They were engineered so that they went
downhill coming and going. It truly was a marvel. With ingenuity
they were slightly graded towards the halfway mark and if you
got up enough speed on your bicycle you could almost coast to
the school even though it was slightly uphill. The same of course
was true on the return trip. The one problem was it was nearly 2
miles long.

When her new parents began school shopping for her, she of

course asked for a bicycle. Even though they could have
afforded the bicycle they instead bought her some things they
felt were more important. A new book bag, some extra study
books, clothing, and the biggest, heaviest pair of hiking boots
you could imagine. What on earth was she to do. Clearly her new
parents were out of touch with main stream America.

Unfamiliar with the reality of the real world they had seemingly

disregarded her obvious needs. All she really pined for was this

one thing. She didn’t want to complain because they had given
her so much, but these were desperate times. So she began her
plan to get the one thing that she knew would make her
completely accepted.

She used every maneuver she had learned. Begging, anger, guilt,
peer pressure. Nothing worked. Her new parents would not

relinquish. It was as if they couldn’t hear her. The end result
was all frustration and no bike. And all they would say to her
was:

   “We love you, We have given you what we feel is best. We
             are sure, in time you will discover the same.”

Whatever in the world did they know. Finally the first day of

school came. All of her friends had decided to meet at the
school at the bikers circle, the place that had been built for
the student’s bikes. This is where everyone would stand proudly
near their bikes on that first day of school and everyday
thereafter.

That fateful morning she decided to carry her regular shoes in
her book bag, along with her lunch and books. She put on the big

heavy hiking boots,  because she had discovered a quick way to
the school. Instead of taking the two mile bike path, if she went
down the hill behind her house through the woods and up the

embankment she would end up at the back of the school. By
going this way she could reduce the distance to school to less
than a mile. If she went quickly she could get to her classroom
before everyone else and avoid the embarrassment of being a
walker.

Off she went down the hill jumping over stumps and rocks thru
the shadows into the little valley, ( the kids privately called it
death valley). Up the steep grade and magically she was there.
The opening brought her to the school on the other side of the
biker’s circle. And no one had seen her. Things were going to be
alright.

When the other kids got to the class they asked why she hadn’t
met them. With no other choice she had to confess.. She was a
walker.

There response wasn’t cruel, or mean, it was just a little distant,

not so you would notice, but they weren’t as friendly. Her place
at the lunch table she knew was not going to be there. She was
a walker and her fate had been sealed. It was her new parents
fault.

 

None the less she accepted her fate, a walker with parents who

didn’t get it.

From that day on she ran to school thru the valley over rocks
trying not to trip or she would gash her knee or foot against one
of the huge stones.Thank goodness for those stupid, ugly hiking
boots.

After a few months the bag on her back that had seemed so
heavy, with all the books and shoes and lunch didn’t seemed too
much of a burden. She also noticed she was getting to school
and home pretty quickly which helped because it gave her extra
time to study.

Lord knows she needed the extra time since she hadn’t been the

best of students. Once in a while she would stop in the little valley

when she was real early, there were so many things to see, so much

to learn.. Things she would have never noticed about herself and

the valley, had she not been forced to walk through it. She saw in

time how the seasons changed, How nature, adapted to the

surroundings. She noticed she enjoyed the walk… The silence…

Hearing her heart beat against her chest, the small drops of sweat,

that formed on her forehead when she ran. It was peaceful.

Very quickly the years flew by and as she waited for the crowd to

settle she looked down and found her parents, She caught their

eyes. A smile, a nod… all that love.

She began:

   

    “As the class valedictorian I welcome you to this graduation.

     A long time ago I was given the gift of faith but I didn’t know

     it, I was unable to see it. It came in the form of hiking boots
      that I thought were too heavy.   With them I learned that         
      something I perceived as heavy made me strong, something I
    perceived as ugly and sturdy and practical protected me against 

     injury,  with those boots I was able to maneuver through the

    difficult paths and through the deep valleys in my life and the

    difficult pathway led me to discover so much about myself,
   things I would not have discovered had I been given a free ride.

    Now as I accept the track and academic scholarship to the

   University to study environmental biology I would like you to

   know about miracles.

   Like most miracles.. Like most true gifts I was only able to

   discover their preciousness retrospectively. Now I can see my

   gift and I promise I will never lose it. It will always be dear to

  me and wonderful. I wish I would have known then to appreciate

  those boots when I was young. But I didn’t, Mom, Dad I believe

  in the miracle of faith. I will embrace the circumstances in my
  life and see the miracles as they happen. Thank you for having
 faith in me. I will forever believe when I am unable to see.”

In the end we are all given the tools, the instruments to complete

God’s will. It is our free gift. Sometimes these gifts are hidden,

sometimes they are not. We are all given the opportunity to

embrace them.. Never be afraid to trust and believe. Never be

afraid  of the heavy burdens .. You are loved , loved completely.

Grab a hold of your heavy shoes, learn from your valleys, have

faith in the journey that God has prepared for you.