Aquarian Age Stories for Children
God Is Holding Your Hand
by
Clara E. Huffman
The morning Sun moved to school time in the
sky. He sent his messengers to the children of Earth. One bright ray hastened to
Margy Lou's room where he lit on her face and wakened her. As she slowly opened
her eyes she noticed the sunbeam coming through a crack in the blind just like a
golden ladder to heaven.
"Margy Lou, Margy Lou! Time to get up." It was her
mother calling. Margy didn't answer; she was absorbed in watching the dancing
particles in the light ray.
A few minutes later her mother called again. "Margy Lou,
Margy Lou! You had better get up now or you will be late for school."
"When she heard the word school Margy's heart turned
a flip-flop. She remembered that it was the day they were to recite the poem, The
Children's Hour. She liked poetry and especially Longfellow's poems, but she
was afraid to stand in front of the boys and girls and recite.
Her throat tightened as she thought about it. It began to hurt.
She would tell her mother she didn't feel well. Perhaps she would let her stay
at home. Then she wouldn't have to say the poem.
Mrs. Bond came into the room. Margy didn't move. Her mother came
to the bed. "What's the matter, Margy? Why aren't you getting up?"
"Oh, Mother, my throat hurts." Margy held her hands to
her throat. Mrs. Bond examined her throat and found enlarged kernels on each
side. However, being a wise mother, she decided it was best to ignore symptoms
this time. She said, "I don't think it is anything serious. It will
probably be all right by the time you reach school. Get up now and get ready. I
will have your breakfast in a few minutes." Then she left the room.
Margy got up she knew her mother wasn't going to let the throat
trouble be an excuse for her to stay home this time. Soon she was dressed and
ready for breakfast. But the hot chocolate she liked so well with brown toast
had no appeal as she thought about the ordeal ahead. She ate a little to keep
her mother from worrying, but left her cereal untouched.
Then she got her books and started for school. Usually she
enjoyed the walk, but today each step was bringing her nearer to recitation
time. Finally she bowed her head and prayed as she walked, "Dear God, help
me to speak the poem. Help me not to be afraid." Asking God to help made
her feel better, and as she lifted her head she saw something round, dark, and
shiny lying on the walk in front of her. She stooped and picked it up. It was a
buckeye. Margy knew what had made it so shiny. Someone had been carrying it in
his pocket a long time, probably to keep off rheumatism, as she had heard her
Uncle Jim say.
She held it in her hand and looked at it. How could the nut
possibly keep rheumatism away? It might be because one believed that it would.
Then she saw Thelma and Lucille motioning for her to hurry, so she dropped the
nut in her dress pocket and ran to catch up with them.
At last the hour came for the poetry. Thelma was the first to
recite. She spoke without the least sign of fear. Margy knew the poem just as
well as Thelma. She wondered why she couldn't recite like Thelma. A couple of
boys were next after Thelma. Margy began to get fidgety as she knew her time was
getting nearer. Finally the teacher smiled and said, "You are next, Margy
Lou."
Margy walked hesitantly to the front of the room. She didn't
dare to look at the boys and girls so she kept her eyes on the floor. She tried
to speak. Her lips moved. Not a sound came. Her throat hurt. Her knees shook.
Unconsciously she put her hand into her pocket. What was that hard thing her
fingers touched? Oh, yes, the buckeye she had picked up. She clutched it tightly
in her hand as she tried again to speak. To her surprise the words now came out
clearly. She lifted her eyes and looked at the children. She recited the poem
without an error.
Margy went back to her seat very happy, but the teacher's
compliments were not the cause of her happiness. Something had happened to her.
She had not been afraid to recite as long as she had held the buckeye in her
hand. Perhaps it did keep rheumatism away, after all, she thought. Anyway, she
was going to keep that buckeye, and the next time she was afraid to recite she
would see if it helped her.
So for several months Margy had no more throat swellings.
Whenever she had a difficult lesson she held the magic buckeye in her hand and
recited well. But she never told anyone about the nut. Always she was careful to
bide it away when she got home from school.
Then came the history test. Margy had never learned history
easily. She must be sure to take the buckeye to help her during the test. Just
before starting to school she looked for it in the drawer in her usual hiding
place. It isn't there. She searched the room, but could not find her buckeye.
She must have left it in the pocket of her blue dress last Friday. She would ask
her mother if she had found it.
Mrs. Bond was ironing. "Mother, have you seen my
buckeye?" asked the little girl.
"Why, yes. I found one yesterday when I washed."
"Oh, goody! What did you do with it?" Margy 's voice
grew higher.
"I threw it away, dear," replied her mother.
Then Margy shrieked, "You threw my buckeye away! What will
I do? What will I do now?"
"Why, you can get another the next time we go to Uncle
Jim's, darling. You aren't getting superstitious, are you?"
"But I don't want another one. I want that one." Margy
began to cry.
Mrs. Bond turned off the iron, put her arm around Margy and led
her to the couch. Then she said, "Now tell Mother what is the matter. Did
someone you like very much give the buckeye to you?"
"No, I found it," sobbed Margy.
"Can't you tell me why it means so much to you?" asked
Mrs. Bond. "I would have kept it if I had known you wanted to keep
it," she went on consolingly.
Little by little her mother got from Margy the story of how
whenever she held the buckeye in her hand she could recite without being afraid
and could get her lessons more easily.
Then Mrs. Bond said, "Margy Lou, listen to me. That little
buckeye was filled with Life; we know Life was in it because if we had planted
it, it would have grown. Isn't that true? Now, the Life in that buckeye was God.
When you held the nut in your hand, you were really holding God's hand, for
God's hand is everywhere. He holds our hand all the time so we won't be afraid,
but sometimes we don't know that He does. Now this is your opportunity to learn
that God is holding you hand. Whenever you are afraid or think you can't get
your lessons or recite them, just remember that you can hold God's hand with
your mind. Then you will be free to use both of your hands for whatever you have
to do. Don't you think that will be better than always having to hunt and take
care of a buckeye?"
"Yes," said Margy thoughtfully, "I do. But,
Mother, I can't feel God holding my hand like I can feel the buckeye, can
I?"
"No, dear," replied her mother, "but you can know
that God is always with you--that is holding His hand with your mind. Don't you
think you can do that?"
Margy looked at her mother a moment and then said, "Yes, I
believe I can. I think God is holding my hand now, and I am sure I can pass that
history test today."
Then Margy picked up her books and started to school. She
stopped at the door long enough to say to her mother, "I'm glad now that
you threw my buckeye away, but, I am glad, too, that I found it--because if I
hadn't, I might have been a long time learning that God is holding my
hand."