In the Eye of the Beholder – a story
I could see her clearly.
A young girl dressed in rags, dirty and afraid.
Her tiny frame bore the evidence of a difficult journey,
Scuffed knees and scabbed elbows
All showed through her torn robe.
There were bruises and scars
She shuddered as if she’d been crying
Faltering for a moment, she seemed unsure
With head bowed, her grimy face turned to the ground
As if ashamed
Feebly she hugged herself for comfort
Then continued her journey
Across the floor of light
Towards the throne of The Most High
Having arrived at His knee her shoulders began to shake
Though her bedraggled hair hid her face from us
She was now sobbing
Her tears dropped to the crystal floor
Then her body crumpled and she fell at His feet
Using the sleeve of her ragged dress she wiped her nose and chin
I did not hear what He said,
but…
His gentle voice caused an immediate change in her
Though still timid, she stood and looked up into His eyes
With astonishment
The moment was electric, we all felt it
Cautiously she held out a hand and opened it
To release a balled up rag
The Most High leaned forward attentively
He asked a question
Her reply was in rapid stumbling words
Punctuated with sobs and sniffs
“I’m so sorry,” she said, deeply ashamed of the meagre offering
The torn cloth appeared to have stitching on it
Pointing to it she explained
“I tried to unpick it and do better,”
Turning the crude embroidery in trembling hands,
She continued,
“There, I pricked my finger and bled on it,
I had some trouble with this bit; it got a bit sweaty,”
She paused as if to remember the other stains,
“They were tears… some are mine but some belong to others…”
“Oh and I fell over a few times and dropped it in the dirt: I tried to clean it but I only made it worse.”
She took a huge shuddering sigh and glanced cautiously at His face
What she saw there held her gaze totally
He held His arms wide
The child suddenly fell into His depths
A brilliance of warmth surrounded them both and infected us who witnessed this delight
At last He held her away from Him
To look at her again
His face shone with Radiance
The child’s hair now glistened
Falling to her shoulders like a curtain of black volcanic glass
Washed clean she was dressed in a robe of brilliant white
Upon her head a coronet of gold
He placed a kiss upon her forehead; the evidence of it remained for all to see.
The Most High took the handiwork she had offered Him
With a second glance we could see
Blood drops had become rubies
Tear stains glittered like diamonds
Drops of sweat, delicate pearls
Stitches she had tried to unpick were once more revealed
Now threads of Gold they combined
Becoming an intricate pattern of meandering threads interlacing one other
Ragged and frayed edging had become a fringe of silken strands that fell between the fingers of His large, loving hands
Dirt was changed to a blinding white; all evidence of each fall gone
He turned her to the gathering
Angels watched in wonder as He spoke her name with Love
The silence broke as angelic voices sang out
Applause thundered like the seas
As she joined us, The Redeemed
I saw Him lift the cloth and gaze at it lovingly
A tear escaped His kindly eye
Raising the cloth He kissed it
Then turned to place it on a table at His elbow
Many treasures rested there
Among them
An alabaster jar and a lock of perfumed hair
First published on Faithwriters 2005
© Denise Stanford 2010
Within the Vine 