Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Melody (08/24/06)
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TITLE: My Special Sunshine | Previous Challenge Entry
By Bella Louise
08/30/06 -
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A toddler wakes up. She has fallen asleep with her head in her mummy's lap during the day, and when she wakes up, she is uncomfortable. Her neck aches from the strange position she slept in; she can't remember exactly where she is. She does know that something spiky is sticking into her back and that the room she is in is not her bedroom. She is confused and disorientated, and so she does the only thing that she can reasonably do in the situation.
She screws up her face, summons all her breath, and bawls at the top of her voice.
Her mother, who still has her daughter's head in her lap, does not react angrily to this outburst. Instead, she gathers her precious child into a sitting position, begins to stroke her hair, and starts to sing to her. You are my sunshine, my special sunshine; you make me happy, when skies are grey...
As the little girl hears her mummy's voice, hears the song that Mummy always sings to make her feel better, she grows comfortable. She realises that the room she is in, whilst it is not her bedroom, has her mummy in it, and that makes everything all right.
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It is at least thirteen years since I could legitimately call myself a toddler; however, there are still occasions almost too numerous to count where I don't know where I am. Occasions where, perhaps, I'm hurt and bewildered by something someone has said to me, or where somebody I had always relied on is no longer there for me. Often God will ask me to do something for Him, and I will be halfway through before I look around as Peter did, and see the storm and the waves. I am often disorientated; often I am in an environment that I don't recognise and don't want to spend long enough in for it to become familiar. Although I can still run to my mother with my problems, and often do, there is Somebody else that I can now rely on to sing to me and stroke my hair and reassure me that everything will be all right. Someone that made me, Someone that loves me the way I am. When I am angry and scared, and run to Jesus with complaints fostered by not seeing the bigger picture, do you know what He does?
He holds my hand, and strokes my hair, just as my mother did all those years ago, and sings to me.
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