A Piece of Chalk

In our home it was natural to fear our father.

Even our mother was afraid of him. As children, my sister and I
thought every family was like that. Every family had an
unpredictable alcoholic who was impossible to please, and a
praying Mama who was there to protect the children. We
thought God planned it that way.

We were good children, Mama was always telling us we were,
even if Daddy couldn't see it. Part of this was because we
dared not do anything. We were quiet, timid children who rarely
spoke; never when Daddy was home. People thought God had
blessed Mama with the sweetest girls. She was always so
proud.

Then came the day we found something new and fun to do.
We knew it would not upset anyone. We never took the risk of
doing that. On our house we had a wooden door. We
discovered we could draw pictures on it with chalk and it would
rub right back off. We could have lots of fun.

We set to work drawing and making lots of pretty pictures all
over it. We had a great time. It surprised us to see how talented
we were. These pictures were good! That's when we decided to
finish our masterpiece. We were proud of our work. We knew
Mama would just love it. She would want all her friends to come
see it and maybe they would want us to do their doors too. We
had found something we were really good at.

The praise we expected did not come. Instead of seeing the
beauty in our work, all Mama could see was the time and effort
she would need to clean it off. She was mad. We did not
understand this but we knew all about anger - and we were in
big trouble.

Off we ran to find a place to hide. In our wooded yard it was not
hard for two small children to find safety. Together we huddled
behind a tree and did not move. Soon we heard the frightened
voices of Mom and our neighbors calling out to us. Still we did
not budge. They were afraid that we had run away or had
drowned in the pond out back. We were afraid of being found.

The sun set and it began to get dark. Those around us became
more anxious and we became more frightened. Time was
slipping by, and the longer we hid there the harder it was to
come out. Mom was, by now, convinced something awful had
happened to us and she resorted to calling the police.

We could tell something was happening because we could hear
all the voices drawn together in a group. Then the search was
on again, this time with strong male voices overpowering the
others. If we were frightened before -- now we were terrified!

As we clung together in the dark we became aware of yet
another voice. One we instantly recognized with horror -- our
Daddy. But there was something strangely different about his
voice. In it we heard something we had never heard before.
Fear, agony, despair -- we couldn't put a name to it then, but
that's what it was. Then came the prayers, tears and prayers
intermingled together.

Was that our Daddy on his knees pleading with God? Our
Daddy -- with tears running down his face, promising God that
he would give his life to Him if He would safely return his girls?

Nothing in our lives had prepared us for this kind of shock.
Neither of us remember making a decision to come out. We
were drawn to him like a magnet, our fears dissolving into the
forest. We don't know yet if we actually took steps or if God
somehow moved us out and into his arms. What we do
remember are those strong loving arms holding us and crying,
holding us like we were precious.

Things were different after that. We had a new Daddy. It was
like the old one was buried that day in the forest. God had taken
him and replaced him with another. One who loved us and was
ever thankful for us.

Mama always told us that God was a God of miracles. I guess
she was right. He changed our whole family with a piece of
chalk.

Author
© Holly Smeltzer
Nova Scotia, Canada

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