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Sample Stories
From time to
time, we will be exhibiting some of the stories, you, our
supporters, submit to us. So, submit your stories on
how your life and others' lives have been touched by our
subject institutions.
The construction of each book in the series Foundations
of Love and Hope will be similar to other story
collections on the market today. The first section will be
stories on the founding and business model of the
highlighted institution. Stories considering the lives of
the first families touched, the lives of the founders, and
the first years of the institution will be just some of the
possibilities. Other sections will be devoted to personal
stories from the patients, parents, friends, volunteers,
doctors, nurses, and donors.
The following is one from my
short story collection, Stories
from A Loving Father.
Guardian Angel
The children were abandoned. Alone in a cramped
ten-by-twenty flat, located in a seedy part of town. Their
parents chose to leave without them for reasons unknown,
unacceptable ones nonetheless. For two weeks, five siblings
learned to fend for themselves, the best way they could.
Eighty-four degrees in ninety percent humidity would have
seemed unbearable to us. Neither could we endure an empty
refrigerator, but that’s what a social worker found when the
children were discovered on a routine visit. Just a few
saltine crackers remained in a crumpled box and some stale
cookie crumbs left in an open bag. No air-conditioning, no
running water, no clean bed linens. No excuse.
In the end, a miracle finally located them. Or
was there an angel watching over all along?
The oldest of the group was an eight-year old
girl with enough moxey to become the mother that she never
had herself. During their time forsaken, Denise kept care
of her brothers and sister as a hawk would protect her young
hatchlings. She made sure the others ate first, drank
first, and fell asleep first under her watchful yet
inexperienced eyes. In the afternoons, Denise would read
stories until the dark cast down. The rest of the night
would be spent reassuring, that all things work out in the
end. It was only after the last would be dreaming that
Denise could face her own fears. Alone.
After their rescue, a foster family assumed the
responsibility for nurturing and bringing the children back
to normalcy. They were started on a path to rebuild their
young lives, despite the detours they had encountered. Life
began in a new home, a new school, and, perhaps most
importantly, a church. At first, the children were
confused, not only about their new surroundings but about
their past as well. Questions abounded. Some the foster
parents weren’t capable of answering. It was then that
Denise came through, in spite of her own insecurity.
Six months passed quickly, yet time seemed to
stand still for Denise. She still didn’t fit in with her
new playmates. She was just as smart and active as the
other eight- year olds. Still, her height and weight was
far below other children her age, a by-product of her former
plight. Whatever she lacked in size, she made up for in
spirit. All the members of her new Sunday school class
accepted her, but knew that she was different in ways they
didn’t understand. Normal children living normal lives
can’t comprehend desolation; neither can most adults.
Seasons changed and suddenly it was December,
time for the annual Christmas play at the church. The
spectacle was put on by the youth, a high point in the
calendar year. Each year, three girls were chosen to be
angels. They were to wear golden, flowing robes and would
kneel beside a makeshift manger beneath the pulpit. All the
members of the church would pass in front and honor the
Christ child. Some would present gifts and offerings, much
like the original nativity scene. For a girl to be chosen
as an angel was indeed an honor, but one usually reserved
for the grandchildren of the most prominent.
On the day of the program, Denise and her family
came to church to watch the play. As they walked past the
choir room, the play director seemed anxious. Two of the
girls chosen to be angels were dressed but one was missing,
a no-show. Suddenly, the play director caught Denise in his
line of vision. Right size, right height. She’ll do, he
thought and reached out his arm to grab her as she walked in
front of him.
“ Would Denise mind being an angel?”
The couple seemed shocked by the question,
almost overwhelmed. At first, they started to say no.
Then, they began thinking of excuses. The robe wouldn’t
fit; she’d be too fidgety, she was afraid of crowds. Yet,
the look in Denise’s eyes pleaded for a yes. Knowing the
director was in a bind, they consented. Denise began to
glow immediately as if being an angel had a special meaning
to her. And maybe she truly deserved the honor.
Only an angel would act as a mother to four
small children when she was still a child herself. To give
asylum when she needed to be sheltered. To sacrifice food
and safety and love and tenderness when the same were of
short supply to her.
The play started on time and without a hitch.
In a few minutes, Denise came out, sincerely looking the
part. Her strawberry blonde hair seemed to glow as if a
real halo rested over her head. Her freckles were as
medals, accentuated by the gold lamé draping off her
shoulders. Each member of the congregation filed past the
manger solemnly. As each person made eye contact with her,
Denise’s face seemed to burst with happiness.
Her siblings walked past the nativity scene as
well. Each poked their chest out with pride and arched
their back, knowing Denise was where she deserved to be.
When they returned to their seats, one was heard to say, “
I think Denise makes a good angel, don’t you?”
Indeed, she always did.
Copyright
2009 Harrison Kelly All Rights Reserved
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Foundations
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