DOZ Issue 37 November 2018 - Page 19

“Emily my dear I hope I haven’t disturbed you at an awkward time, but I just had to come over.” “You seem as though you are a bit upset, is there anything I can do to help?” Emily stammered, “Why no, nothing is wrong, I was just, I mean I just was.” It was no use, Emily burst into tears. A floodgate had been opened up, and Emily didn’t have the strength to hold it back any longer. She put her hands up to hide her face. Mrs. Wicker stepped inside and guided Emily to the couch in the living room. “I am so sorry Mrs. Wicker; I don’t know what’s come over me today, I apologize for, for, well I am just sorry. It’s just.” Emily looked down and tried to cover her legs. “I am so embarrassed; I am quite clumsy you see. I should be more careful, my husband is always telling me I need to be more careful, and he doesn’t want to look at damaged goods with no value.” Emily couldn’t look up at Mrs. Wicker. She just folded her hands across her legs. “My dear, who on earth told you that you had no value?” Said Mrs. Wicker. “I know for a fact that you do, you have great value, so much so that a Man, a very special Man died for you because He loved you and saw your value.” “I don’t understand what you’re talking about Mrs. Wicker, Look. Look at me, at my legs and arms my bruises; this is how much value I have, each bruise represents that. Each time my arm is twisted, or I am slapped across the face. No, I understand my value, I have learned very well what my value is-it’s nothing.” “Emily do you know why I had to come to see you just now at this very moment?” Emily just shook her head. “Because, dear one He sent me, the Man I was telling you about, He sent me here to talk to you, to look after you and to tell you the truth about yourself.” “I know what the truth is, I live it every single day.” Emily sobbed. “Well, yes I guess that is one truth, but I am here to tell you about another truth. What your life can be and should be, and all you have to do is ask.” Mrs. Wicker paused a moment, she reached out and touched Emily’s face to wipe away a tear. She sighed and continued to speak. “That’s what you did, isn’t it dear, you asked God for help, and that is why I am here.” “How could you know that? It’s not possible; I was just in the bathroom and, no, no Mrs. Wicker how could this be?” Mrs. Wicker moved closer and touched Emily’s knee as if to soften the bruises. “It is because He is.” Mrs. Wicker said in a soft but firm tone. “A long time ago God sent His only Son Jesus to earth, He lived 33 years and then He was crucified on a cross to pay the penalty of our sins so that one day when we leave this earth, we can be in Heaven with Him forever.” “Mrs. Wicker, I have heard about Jesus, I used to go to church many years ago, I even have a Bible somewhere here in the house, and I believe He died for me, but what does that have to do with me now, with my situation; it’s impossible.” “No Emily it’s not. That’s the wonder of God; nothing is impossible with Him. If you give your life to Him and trust Him, you will start to see yourself through God’s eyes, and then you will understand your true value. If you allow me, I want to pray with you, Emily.” “But Mrs. Wicker, how did you know about me, I mean today?” “Oh, dear one I have watched you for many years come and go while I was working in my garden and God had placed a need in my heart to pray for you. Today, as 19 I was praying, I knew you were ready to accept His truth, and I had to come over and talk with you.” “Mrs. Wicker that is so amazing, I don’t even know what to say. May I ask you how long you have been praying for me?” “Well, dear one, a long time.” “Please, please Mrs. Wicker how long have you been praying for me, I must know.” Mrs. Wicker grabbed Emily’s hands and held them tight. “Since you were a little girl, I guess you were about seven years old, and I saw you looking out the front window of your house. Your father and mother were fighting, and your father had a suitcase, and he tossed it in the trunk of the car. Your mother was crying and pleading with him. As your father opened the car door to get in and drive off your mother ran to him, he pushed her back with such force she fell on the pavement, and he drove off. I was so absorbed in watching the fight between your parents I didn’t notice you standing there. I realized you had watched the entire scene from the front window of your home. Your face told me all I needed to know, and that’s when I began to pray to for you.” “But, Mrs. Wicker, that was more than 40 years ago, how could you pray for me for 40 years?” “That my dear one is the power of God and the love He has for you and the value you have to him, that is what made me pray.” Emily bowed her head, tears still rolling down her face. She held Mrs. Wicker’s hands, and they began to pray. I have been writing all my life; I just didn’t realize it until I was my late 40’s. I hope my experiences can help others who have gone through similar trials. DOZ Magazine | November 2018