She sat, unmoved.
All was pitch black around her. The windows were wide open, the strong but gentle breeze blew right in, sending her hair all over her face.
Yet she sat, unmoved.
Her head rested upon the side of her bed, on her blanket. Her eyes were tired, but they were stubborn to stay open. The sound of her heart beat against the ticking of the little alarm clock on the table behind her. Her hair flew with the wind, dancing to its every movement.
Her hand was still clutching that little thing, her little fingers curled tightly around it.
That little thing.
And she sat unmoved for a long, long time.
“I will be still know You are God…” her little heart whispered.
She sat, unmoved.
The breeze grew a little violent, and the curtains were rustling against the railing which held them to place. The eerie sound of the winds sent goosebumps all over her body, causing her to shiver, of cold, not fear. The grills at her window clattered upon one another at the force of the wind, and the silence of the night slowly turned into a symphony of turbulence.
The clock downstairs struck 2, and she knew it was 2 in the morning, when everything was pitch black without lights. She stay silenced, unmoved in that position, waiting on something only her tender 7-year-old mind knew would happen.
Suddenly she felt the presence of another in the room. She turned towards where she felt that person is, but could only see darkness. She dropped that little wooden cross - the only memory she had of her late mother - and stood still, waiting on the other party to stir. She heard him breathing. Her heart smiled at his arrival.
“It is I,” he said. She smiled.
“You have come to see me again,” she said, still smiling. He looked at her, pleased with her delight of his presence.
He came towards her, and she stretched out her hand.
He bent forward and touched her hand, and their fingers intertwined with another.
She leaned into him, and heard as his heartbeat beat steadily with hers.
She sat there in his arms for a long moment before she spoke again.
“Are you pleased with me?” she asked, her voice childlike.
He smiled at her.
“Can you see me smile?” he asked. She shook her head.
“No, but my heart can,” she said, and she smiled.
“I am smiling at you, child. I am pleased with your childlike faith in me,” he said, his arms strong and secure, holding her tight and safe.
“You are the only person who loves me after Mommy left, Lord,” she said, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“I am close to you when you are brokenhearted [Psalm 34:18],” he said.
Her heart sank, and she cried in his arms.
“Why must they treat me so, Lord? Just because I am different?” she said between tears, her voice cracking.
“You are my creation, fearfully and wonderfully made. [Psalm 139:14]”
She held him tighter in her arms.
“I am your comforter when you are troubled.” [2 Corinthians 13-14]
She cried, like a baby to her Father.
“I will take away all your tears one day.” [Revelations 21:3-4]
She felt utmost peace and security in His arms, His ever promising words so assuring were filled with loving kindness…
“My child, it is time you get your physical rest,” his fatherly voice came.
“I don’t want to part with You, ever,” she sobbed. Her heart was overwhelmed with fear of losing this love. This love her mother promised her to have after her death. This love… which was the only reason she have been kept alive.
“Nothing will ever separate us.“ [Romans 8:38-39]
“Take me with You where You are going, Father,” she clutched at His robe.
“I am with you always, even till the end of days.” [Matthew 28:20]
She released His robe, and obediently climbed into her bed, listening to Her Master’s words.
She felt Him get up from where He sat, and her heart sank as she thought of Him leaving her alone.
Yet she felt Him there.
“I am with you always, even till the end of days…”
The clock downstairs struck. Once. Twice. She sat up in bed, counting the chimes carefully, and they stopped at the fifth.
It was 5 in the morning.
Time to start the chores, she thought.
She picked up her walking stick and groped her way through the little attic as the first ray of the sun came through the windows.
And all she could see was darkness.