HOLDING HANDS |
|
| Hal was about eight years old when he had quite an important experience. He went strolling in the big forest that was near his home. He did not intend to go far, for one could get lost among so many trees. He went slowly along, always there was something interesting just ahead; sometimes fresh wintergreen leaves, or some pretty blue violets that grew on little bushes, or the twisty trail of pushed-up earth made by the curious little mole that had a digging apparatus right on the end of the nose. There is always plenty to see in a Michigan forest. Hal wandered this way and that, and after a while he came to a wide cleared space. Here the trees had been cut down and hauled away to the lumber mills. A little dim path led out into this clearing and Hal followed it. There were great wide stumps of trees, some of them as wide as a table; and everywhere bushes and blackberry vines covered the ground while the big stumps had great thick roots reaching out from all sides. Hal wandered along looking—here would be a good place for little quail and rabbits. Suddenly, there was a rumble and a cracking of thunder, it seemed to come right out of the forest. Hal turned quickly and saw coming over the tall tree tops of the forest a great mass of black clouds. These clouds soon spread all over the sky, and out of them came fiery streaks of lightning and great crashes of thunder; while a fierce wind began tearing through the tree tops. What could he do? Where could he go for shelter from the storm? Hal knew better than to run toward the forest. Once in a storm he had seen great trees in the forest come crashing down before the strong wind; he did not want a tree to fall on him. And now the rain began splashing down. Great drops—it seemed a teaspoonful to a drop—hammered on the stumps, bushes and on Hal’s uncovered head. Hal was frightened. The bushes were threshing all around him in the wind, and the water coming down so fast. Like a scared rabbit he darted over to a big stump and crept in close against the rough bark and the great friendly roots. My, how the lighting flashed, how the thunder crashed, and how the raindrops splashed! The water ran down the sides of the stump in little rivers and Hal was soon drenched to the skin. Hal didn't mind the wet, he would change when he got home. Home! Why there wouldn't be any path to go home by now; the rain would wash away every little trace of a path. Hal tried to look at the trees to see if he could tell where he had come out into the clearing. But the rain pelted him so hard he could not see anything. Then he was scared; he snuggled closer to the rough stump and covered his face with his hands. There he prayed, prayed that Jesus would help him and show him the way home when the storm was over. After a while the storm grew less fierce, the bushes ceased to thresh about, the lightning became less vivid, the thunder sounded farther off, and the rain became a thin mist. Soon the sun shone through the broken clouds and how the wet leaves and bushes did sparkle! Hal rose from beside the stump. Which way out of the clearing? Now he thought, "I don't know which way to go; so I will walk along just as tho' Jesus were holding my hand. I will go the way I believe he would lead me, if he were taking me home." He passed through the clearing to the forest's edge. There was no path in the forest, just wet leaves, slowly Hal walked along making a turn here and there. He was not afraid, he was holding hands with Jesus. After a bit he made a turn, and there he saw familiar things. Now he knew the way home. He always felt that the Lord did hold his hand and guide him home.
|
|
e-mail me |
|