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Book 2: Be Not Afraid

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Chapter One: Meta Knight

 

December 9, Spring Breeze, Dreamland. . .

 

“Mommy, may I go visit Miss Scazzarda?” asked Cloudy.

Springtime turned away from the kitchen counter and the blueberry pie she was making and smiled at her youngest child. “Certainly, honey! Just bundle up good and don’t stay out too long. It’s freezing outside!”

“It’s December, Mommy. It’s naturally going to be freezing,” Cloudy replied, a know-it-all look crossing her face.

Springtime giggled and shooed her daughter out of the kitchen. “I know, dear. Now run along!”

Cloudy dashed up to her room and threw on her pink snowboots, a thick yellow jacket, a red beanie, and a beige scarf. She skipped downstairs and out the front door. For a long moment, she stood on the porch and gazed out over the giant pasture in which her house sat. The pasture was divided in two by a fence, the other side containing a tiny house in which no one lived. A fence surrounded the entire pasture.

Across the street was Cloudy’s school, Emmanuel Elementary, and next door to the school was Miriam Capperdale’s house. Miriam was Cloudy’s best friend.

Cloudy glanced down at the frosty grass stalks and windows of her house and grinned. The frost reminded her that it was two weeks to Christmas. While it was going to be Cloudy’s first Christmas, her mother had told her it was a very special time. Decorating the tree, wrapping gifts, baking cookies, and spending time with family and friends were just a few of the special traditions Springtime told Cloudy about. But her personal favorite thing about Christmas, Springtime had said, was celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ and telling others about His love for them. That was why they celebrated the holidays in the first place.

Cloudy knew that if her mother loved Christmastime so much, then she knew she would too. Taking a flying leap off her porch, she landed in the grass. Scrambling to her feet, she jumped the fence onto the other property and ran across it for a minute or two before she found herself at the edge of Whispy Woods.

Cloudy took a step back. She wasn’t necessarily afraid of being in Whispy Woods—she had roamed it before with her parents in past months—but she was a little frightened by the eerie silence and the light fog. The silence was deafening, but the brave puppy was determined to press on with her mission. Shaking off her fear, she marched confidently into the woods.

As Cloudy walked, she thought about Scazzarda Stellarum, who lived in a cabin in Whispy Woods. She was a sweet old woman who had two children and a wonderful reputation. Cloudy had met Scazzarda last month when Cloudy and her mother had invited lots of guests to come to their Thanksgiving dinner. It wasn’t much fun at first because the school bully, Wylanda Coven, had incessantly complained about everything she had. Very ironic for Thanksgiving since it was a day on which you were supposed to be grateful for everything you had. Cloudy and her friends had attempted to explain to Wylanda what she could be grateful for, but Wylanda didn’t care. She had still complained. In the end, it was Cloudy who had brought Wylanda to her senses.

Cloudy took a deep breath of the cold, wintry air. It made her nose hurt and filled her with a fresh burst of energy. She had never experienced this freezing cold weather before, but she loved it. It made her feel so alive.

Cloudy plodded on for a minute or two more before she came upon a well-worn trail. It was used, that was clear, for it had hoofprints, claw marks, and footprints all over it. She decided to take the trail and see where it led her.

As Cloudy trotted along, she began to think about her family and friends.

Springtime and Showerstorm were Cloudy’s parents. Springtime looked almost like Cloudy’s twin, with the same black-and-white fur and sparkling emerald-colored eyes. Like Cloudy, she was a Malamute husky who loved adventure. But she was also a kind and loving mother who tried her absolute best to raise her kids up in God’s Word.

Like his sons, Showerstorm was a brown and white Siberian. He was quiet and thoughtful and loved meditating on the Bible, and he was a wonderful father who taught his children to be diligent and kind and Christlike toward others.

Cloudy’s thoughts then traveled to her siblings. Her oldest brother, Sniper, was the most annoying child in the family and loved pulling pranks and generally being a snot toward others. Her next four brothers—Sharkell, Yodi, Pancake, and Waffle—were very nice and friendly with others. The only sour note about them was that they sometimes tended to team up with Sniper in his pranks.

Azalea-Star was a gray and white Siberian with beautiful blue eyes like her aunt. She was amiable and sweet, but sometimes tended to be a little mouthy.

And that left Cloudy herself. Cloudburst was Cloudy’s real name, but everyone she knew called her Cloudy. Over a hundred years ago, Photron, the ruler of the universe and the forger of the sacred sword, Galaxia, had prophesied that a special Star Warrior would free Dreamland from disaster—disaster spelling N.M.E. The uniquely-shaped diamond mark on her left-front paw proved this, for it was what set her apart from the other possible Star Warriors. She had to fight for her planet along with the other Star Warriors she would one day meet. Cloudy was kind, compassionate, loyal, and protective of her family and friends.

N.M.E. stood for Night Mare Enterprises, an intergalactic company with sold monsters. The president of the company, Nightmare, was an evil demon who sought to rule the universe with an iron fist. He was cruel, coldhearted, and enjoyed making others miserable.

But though there was so much wickedness in the world, Cloudy did not give up faith. She believed the prophecy and trusted in her God, and she refused to back down no matter what happened to her. It would take more than a wicked, abusive president of a monster company to make her back down.

A short time later, Cloudy reached the end of the trail and glanced up in surprise. A small cabin, with its paint chipped and its roof with several shingles missing from it, loomed in front of her. A dirt driveway led to the side of the cabin and a rusty metal by the cabin said “Stellarum” on the side. Cloudy though the whole place looked abandoned and mussed.

“This must be the right place,” Cloudy mused to herself. She frowned. “But how can such a clean and neat woman as Scazzarda live in such a dirty and dilapidated building?”

Cloudy took a step onto the driveway, then stopped. She felt very queer, as if a sixth sense were warning her not to go onto the property. Cloudy, little as she was, sensed extreme danger lurking nearby.

A rustle behind her startled her. She whirled to face whoever or whatever it was, but saw nothing. She frowned, her beginning to stand on end. She felt very uneasy. Something was fishy here.

Then Cloudy unmistakably hear something her ears could not deny. It was clear, sharp, and strong. Footsteps. Someone was behind her and was creeping up on her. Cloudy tensed, ready to spring. Every muscle in her body told her to run, but she didn’t. She had to see who was pursuing her. Who in their right mind would be stalking a young girl? she thought.

Though the footsteps came nearer, Cloudy held her ground. She decided to turn around on the count of three and see who was there. “One!” she counted under her breath. The footsteps sounded closer. “Two!” Then the footsteps stopped, and Cloudy felt her blood freeze upon hearing the schwiiing of a sword being drawn.

“Three!” Cloudy counted. She spun around, quickly snatched up a heavy stick from the ground, and threw it at the dark figure standing behind her. The sword flew from his hand and landed in the grass near Cloudy as he fell backward. Cloudy marched over to him and bared her fangs.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The figure stood up slowly and stepped into a pool of sunlight pouring through the canopy of trees. Cloudy observed the stranger. He wore a navy-blue cape, gray pauldrons with yellow lining, and around, silver mask through which only his yellow eyes showed. Upon seeing him, she gasped and withdrew.

“Goodness, child!” the stranger exclaimed. “I didn’t recognize you at first! I thought you were a monster! I’m sorry.”

Cloudy’s eyes widened in amazement. She knew this person. He was Magnus Stellarum, Scazzarda’s eldest son. He had come to the Thanksgiving feast with Scazzarda and chatted a little with Cloudy. However, the puppy didn’t know much about him.

“Hey, you’re Magnus Stellarum!” Cloudy blurted out.

The figure raised his head and gave her a strange, uncomfortable look—or so it seemed to Cloudy. She couldn’t tell for sure because he had a mask on. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But I do not wish to be called Magnus.”

Cloudy tilted her head to the side, puzzled. He acted rather odd whenever anyone else besides his mother called him Magnus. Cloudy couldn’t understand why he was so sensitive to that name. She thought it was nice.

“Then what can I call you?” she asked.

“You may call me Meta Knight. All of my friends do.”

“Meta Knight?” Cloudy repeated.

“It’s a moniker, child,” Meta Knight explained.

Cloudy gave him a blank stare. “Uh, what in the world is a moniker?”

Meta Knight’s voice was full of patience as he told her, “A moniker is a nickname given to someone that describes their personality, character, or attitude.” He tapped his foot rhythmically as he went on, “My name, Meta Knight, is given to me because I wear a mask and dress like a knight. My nickname means ‘beyond youth,’ and truly, I am beyond youth.” Then he suddenly smiled at Cloudy. “Um, forgive me, child, but I forgot your name.”

Cloudy giggled at the thought of anyone forgetting her name. It was short and fairly easy to remember! “My name’s Cloudburst, but you can call me Cloudy.” Then her ears perked up as she gazed up at Meta Knight, her emerald eyes full of curiosity. “But if Meta Knight means ‘beyond youth,’ then what does Magnus Stellarum mean?”

Meta Knight looked down. “It means ‘greatest of the stars.’”

“Wow! Are you really the greatest of the stars?” Cloudy asked.

Meta Knight shrugged. “Everyone says I am the greatest Star Warrior ever born. But that may soon change.”

“Huh?” Cloudy was confused. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that you may be the next greatest Star Warrior after me,” Meta Knight said.

Cloudy blinked at that. She didn’t truly believe that she would ever be as great as Meta Knight, but she decided not to pursue the subject further. Instead, she sat down and scratched her ear. “Meta Knight, do you live here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Alone?” she prodded further.

“No,” he said. “I live with my mother and father.”

Cloudy knit her brow and shot him an inquisitive gaze. “Not to be rude, Mag—uh, Meta Knight, but how old are you?”

“Thirty years.” He smiled. “And you?”

“Almost nine months,” Cloudy replied. “But never mind that. I have a question.”

“Well, ask away, Cloudy.”

“If you’re thirty years old, why do you still live with your parents?”

Meta Knight instantly looked downcast or ashamed; Cloudy couldn’t tell which. She immediately felt stupid for asking him that question. “Cloudy, I have nowhere to go,” he said simply. “My wife and I were divorced a few years ago, but before that, she and I lived together in a little house not far from here. A few years after she left, I didn’t want to keep the house anymore, so I gave it to my daughter.” To himself he muttered, “I also don’t want Mother getting hurt. . .”

Cloudy’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Liloy.”

Cloudy was interested in Meta Knight’s family. “Your family sounds very, um, unique,” she said. Sensing the depressed air about him, she hastened to add, “Not in a bad way, of course. Just, um. . .”

“No, Cloudy,” Meta Knight replied sadly. “My family is not the best in the book. In fact, it is probably one of the worst.”

“What do you mean?”

Meta Knight shook his head. “I mean that my family is not one I’m proud of. I’m ashamed of it, very much so.”

“Why on earth?” Cloudy asked, then instantly wished she hadn’t. She knew it was impolite to pry into another’s family affairs. “I-I’m sorry. . .”

“No, Cloudy, you did nothing,” Meta Knight replied dully. He sighed deeply. “If you like, I will tell you about my family.”

“I’d like that,” Cloudy said. “My mom says the best way in order to get to know your new friends better is to talk to them and find out about their hobbies and pastimes, more about them, etc.”

Meta Knight couldn’t help but smile. “Are you saying you want to be my friend?”

“Of course.” She smirked ever so slightly. “What, you haven’t figured that out yet?” Both laughed at that. At the feast, Cloudy had given Meta Knight a poem emphasizing she wanted to be his friend.

“But we’re so far apart in age, Cloudy!” Meta Knight reminded her.

“Age doesn’t matter the slightest bit in friendship,” Cloudy said wisely. She walked up beside him and nudged his gloved hand with her nose. “Let’s be friends and get to know each other better.”

“Yes, let’s do. I will tell you more about my family.” Meta Knight suddenly cast a quick glance around. “But not in this place. It is dangerous here. Why don’t you lead me to your house, Cloudy? We can talk on the way over there.”

“Sounds fine,” answered Cloudy, but she was a little puzzled as to how Meta Knight’s property could be dangerous, However, she decided not to ask. “But I was going to visit your mother. Why don’t I do that and then walk home with you?”

“My mother is not home right now, Cloudy,” Meta Knight said softly. “Last I checked, she was working today.”

“Oh.” Cloudy smiled, then yawned. “Well, I’ll catch her later, In the meantime, let’s go to my house.”

“Would you like me to carry you?” Meta Knight asked.

Cloudy stared at him for a few seconds, then burst into laughter. “Carry me! Why? I can walk. I have legs, you know. Four of them, to be exact.”

Meta Knight chuckled. “I know, little one, but your house is about two miles away from here. You’re a little girl, you’ve walked a long way, and you’re tired. I can carry you back. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I am a little tired,” confessed Cloudy. “But I can walk on my own,” she quickly added. “Really.”

Meta Knight smiled and held out his hands. “Come on, let me carry you back home.”

“But I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Cloudy objected. “Really, I don’t.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m happy to do it.” Before Cloudy could object again, Meta Knight had bent down and scooped the puppy into his arms. “Come on. We must hurry before it gets dark.”

“Okay,” Cloudy reluctantly agreed. She knew that no matter how much she argued, Meta Knight wasn’t going to change his mind, so she might as well relax and enjoy the ride. Meta Knight turned and began walking along the trail in the opposite direction from whence Cloudy had come.

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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A Word from the Author

 

Hi, readers! I have learned an awful lot from this Thanksgiving, and I hope you all have as well.

First of all, this entire story is fiction, and it centers on the Kirby universe. This entire series is what we refer to as Christian fiction, meaning that one or more characters in the story are Christians and use God’s Word to solve the conflict(s). And I understand that not everyone who reads this series is Christian. That’s okay. I don’t expect everyone to be. But what I do expect, dear readers, is that you’ll learn something valuable from this entire series.

But while the story is fiction, the evidence for the Bible is true and real. The Bible is the only Book that is true and right and lines up with history and answers all conflicts about hefty topics, such as the resurrection.

A lot of people are confused by the Bible. They asked questions such as: Does the Bible contradict itself? Who was Cain’s wife? How could Jesus die on the cross for me? If God loves us, why are we all suffering? Are angels real? What is my purpose in life?

These questions are answered by the Bible. False teachers and books (other than the Bible) can’t always be trusted. But the Bible can be because it was given by the Creator—yes, Jesus Christ, the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last. Jesus is alive, and true, and real. If He were not a real person and did not exist, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be breathing.

God gave us a mind and a conscience and keeps human depravity on the level. He won’t let destruction run rampant. Yes, there are many evils in the world. There are murderers, drunkards, rapists, thieves, and the whole nine yards. But if God were not keeping our depravity in check, we would all be dead.

It’s by God’s grace we’re alive. It’s by the Lord’s mercy that we aren’t struck dead by His hand. We have a choice to accept Him as our Lord. And if a true Christian truly accepts the Lord, he will never regret His decision.

The Romans Road of Salvation gives us three things we can do to be saved.

A—Acknowledge: Realize that you are a sinner in need of salvation and that you need Christ. You are not independent from God; you need God and learn from God. Without Him, you are dead spiritually.

B—Believe: Believe that Jesus died on the cross to save you and He was buried and rose again the third day for YOU! Jesus conquered death and reigns on His throne in heaven.

C—Confess: Confess your sins to Christ and ask for forgiveness. Beg Him to enter into your heart and be your Lord and Savior. He will govern your life the moment You ask Him to. You don’t need to pray a fancy way; just ask for forgiveness, confess your sins, and believe on Christ.

Dear readers, I hope you will respond to the truth of the gospel if you have not already. God loves all and wants to save all.

See you next time!

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Eight: Thank You

 

After the meal was over, the crowd sang a few hymns and chatted a while longer. Then it was time to go.

Cloudy and her friends offered to help clear the dishes and fold up the picnic tables to return them to Mrs. Turner’s restaurant. As they wiped the tables, Cloudy hummed snatches of the songs they had just sang.

Wylanda, overhearing, smiled contentedly. It was funny, she thought. If her mother had never made her go to this feast, she probably wouldn’t even be standing here right now. Truly the Lord works in mysterious ways, she thought.

After forty minutes or so, the picnic tables were all cleared away and the dishes had disappeared. Lily and the Palmer sisters cleaned the bits of food off the ground and stuck them into large trash bags, which they then hauled out to the side of the road.

Showerstorm smiled. “You guys are good helpers,” he commented.

“Thanks,” replied Lily, her brown eyes shining.

By the time the pasture was cleared, most of the people had already left. A few remained, such as Eloise and Nika’s family and Miriam’s mom, as well as the Stellarums. The knight was talking in a low voice to his mother, who nodded after everything he said. Cloudy looked at the paper she had made, remembering she had to give it to him.

She danced over to him and waited for the knight to stop speaking, then cleared her throat. “Magnus.”

“Hm?” The knight glanced down at her and smiled. “Oh, it’s you, Cloudy. What do you need?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to give you this.” She then added as an afterthought, “I made it.” Then she rushed off.

“What does it say, Magnus?” Scazzarda wondered.

The knight delicately unfolded the piece of paper and held it up to the light shining from the lamppost across the street. It read:

 

We met just today, Magnus Stellarum,

But I feel like I know you very well.

I wish I could understand you better,

But I can’t, so I just want to tell

You that you’re one of the kindest knights

That I’ve met, though we met so suddenly.

You know me, and I know you—

And that’s the way it ought to be.

-Cloudburst

 

The knight finished reading and his hand began to tremble, but with an effort he restrained his emotions. He folded the latter and lovingly held it. “It is just a poem,” he said quietly.

Scazzarda smiled kindly at him. “And from the looks of it, it’s a lovely poem.”

“Yes,” he admitted, looking over at Cloudy. Sensing somebody was staring at her, she turned to see the knight and grinned, her pearly white teeth reflecting in the lamppost’s light. “I’ll never forget her, Mother. She’s one of the kindest kids I have ever come across.”

“And she’s different, too,” Scazzarda murmured. The knight nodded, his eyes locked on Cloudy’s glistening black-and-white fur and her intelligent emerald-colored eyes.

“Let’s go home,” Scazzarda told her son.

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy watched the Stellarums walk off toward Whispy Woods and frowned a little. Why were they going in there? Perhaps they lived there, but what an odd place to live!

“Hi, Cloudy.”

Cloudy whirled and saw Wylanda standing there, a smile on her face. “Oh, hello, Wylanda,” Cloudy said. “How are you?”

“Just fine, actually.” Wylanda’s brown eyes looked like stars in the dim light. “I came to thank you for showing me the truth.”

Cloudy backed up a little and shook her head in protest. “Oh, no. Don’t you thank me. It’s God who deserves the thanks. I was just His vessel.”

“Ohh. Of course.” Wylanda giggled. “I thanked Him too. He’s just wonderful to me.”

Cloudy agreed. Then a thought came to her mind. “Did you ever tell your parents about the knife?” she asked solemnly.

Wylanda nodded soberly. “They were grieved, but also happy because you came along and showed me the way to truth. They were very grateful that I accepted Christ as my Savior.”

Cloudy looked up to the starlit sky. To her, it looked as though God had drawn a black velvet curtain dotted with white spots across the sky. There were no clouds and the air was chilly but refreshing. “And do you now see how blessed you are?”

“Indeed,” Wylanda nodded. “And I hope one day to trace my original parents and tell them I forgive them for what they did to me.”

Cloudy smiled. What a drastic change the Lord has worked in Wylanda!

“Hey, wanna go to the mall together this Saturday?” Wylanda asked. “We can do some shopping.”

“Sure! I’ll be there!” Cloudy said. “And if you want, you can come to our house Tuesday night and have a sleepover.”

“Cool!” Wylanda then looked up to see Mrs. Coven waving at her. “Oh, we gotta go home.” Then she looked at Cloudy. “Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where do you go to church?”

Cloudy frowned, confused. “Umm. . .I don’t go to church. This area of Spring Breeze has no church.”

“You don’t go to church!” Wylanda was silent a moment. “Well, we go to to a small Baptist church about thirty miles down from our house. We don’t live in your area, you know. We’re more in the north. But anyway, you’re invited to join us. We’ll pick you up this Sunday.”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” Cloudy said. “Now shoo!”

Wylanda waved to Cloudy as she climbed in the Coven’s automobile. “Take good care of my necklace!” she shouted out the window as the car roared away.

Cloudy stood alone on the dewy grass, the chill of night beginning to press down on her. She shivered and looked across the street just in time to see Miriam and her mother go into their house and slam the door. The Palmer sisters were climbing into their mom’s car. Once they were settled, Mr. Palmer puled out of the yard and drove down the road. Then silence.

Cloudy looked up to the sky once more and saw a tiny sliver of the crescent moon. The sheer beauty of its silvery light seemed to embrace every fiber of her being. And now she wondered where the Lord would take her next.

 

~   ~   ~

 

And that marks the end of this story. But don’t forget, dear readers, that the theme of this story is to always be grateful for what you have and not gripe, for what you own, the Lord has blessed you with. Take this moral and apply it to your own lives, and never forget to have a thankful heart no matter what.

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Seven: Count Your Blessings

 

Star yawned. “Isn’t Cloudy back from talking to that bratty girl?” she grumbled, glancing at the sky. “From the position of the sun, I’d say it’s almost five o’clock or so.”

“Aw, be patient,” Arrow said. “She’ll be here.”

Scazzarda nodded in agreement. “She’ll come when she’s ready.”

Then Star heard something. From her right came the sound of someone running, and she leaped up eagerly, expecting to see Cloudy returning. But to her consternation, it wasn’t Cloudy at all. It was Wylanda!

“Oh, no,” Sharkell muttered. “What is she doing here?”

Wylanda slowed and walked right up to the group. Star bristled and backed away from the girl, baring her fangs.

“Why are you here?” Arrow coldly asked.

To Star’s surprise, Wylanda didn’t mock or make fun of them as expected. Instead, she seemed very contrite and kind. “I know exactly why you’re acting afraid of me, and in no way do I blame you,” Wylanda said, pressing her palms together. “I just wanted to say that I regret all the mean things I’ve done to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Huh?!” Star stared, speechless, at her. This wasn’t the Wylanda they had always known!

“Whoa, talk about a drastic personality change,” Zach said to Star under his breath.

“Yeah. Since when is she so friendly and nice?” Star said to herself. She was getting suspicious, certain this was some sort of trick to win their trust.

Wylanda looked around at their stern, cold expressions and sighed. “Cloudy finally showed me the truth, and I accepted Christ,” she explained. “He’s changed me from the inside-out. I’ve made a commitment to Him, and I will never go back to my old lifestyle.”

Sniper and Sharkell looked at each other, their eyes wide. Scazzarda frowned. Wylanda seemed so sincere—but how could they trust she really had changed?

“Prove to us that you’re not the same person you were,” Nika challenged. “How do we know you’re really saved? Do we know it’s not a trick?”

“It’s not a trick,” came a familiar feminine voice from behind Wylanda. Cloudy stepped into view, the porcelain rose lightly bumping against her chest with every movement. The children seemed confused by her wearing the necklace, but made no comment.

The knight took a step back. “Cloudburst,” he breathed, but said no other words.

“Wylanda is changed,” Cloudy said firmly. “She is now a daughter of the King.”

“How wonderful!” Scazzarda said, taking Wylanda in her arms and hugging her. “I’m so happy for you, child.”

Wylanda embraced her in return. “Thank you.” Then she glanced up at Scazzarda’s bright blond hair into which was stuck the white rose. She reached up to touch one of the soft petals. “You’re wearing a rose!”

“Naturally. It’s Thanksgiving,” Scazzarda said. “And in Dreamland, the symbol of gratitude is a rose!”

“I know!” Wylanda said. “That’s kind of cool.” She scratched her head. “But I wonder why? Why a rose?”

Scazzarda put an arm across Wylanda’s shoulder. “The rose was chosen specifically because many of our Pilgrim ancestors associated the rose with Jesus.”

“What does Jesus have to do with Thanksgiving?” Star asked. “I mean, I get He brought our ancestors safely to Dreamland and all, but I don’t get. . .”

“Well, dear, let me explain,” Scazzarda said. “See, Jesus is more associated with the theme of Thanksgiving, which is gratitude. When we get saved, how should we respond to Christ for saving us?”

Star’s eyes shone as brightly as her name. “Thanksgiving!” she exclaimed. “Gratitude! Of course!”

“Exactly, my dear!” Scazzarda went on. “Anyway, these Pilgrims chose the rose because of the symbols the flower held.”

“What do you mean?” Yodi asked.

“You know how a rose can have thorns?” Scazzarda asked. Several of the children nodded. “Well, the Pilgrims associated that with the crown of thorns, or the suffering and agony Christ had to endure on the cross.”

Cloudy gasped and Star seemed intrigued.

“Most people think red is the main color of rose petals, so the Pilgrims chose that color to represent Jesus’ blood, or the cleansing of our sins.”

“Golly!” Arrow exclaimed. “I never knew any of this stuff before!”

Scazzarda gently hushed him and then continued, “And lastly, the green of the stem and leaves represents rebirth, or the renewal of our bodies and spirits in eternal life.” She looked away across the pasture and up, gesturing to the sky, and everyone looked up. What they saw made their hearts nearly skip a beat.

The sun was setting, fading behind the thick greenery of Whispy Woods. Blue, purple, and gold entwined in one marvelous spiral of color to create an unusual-looking but picturesque painting of God’s spectacular handiwork. White flamed the edges of the clouds stretching away beyond the peak of Mount Moonstem, and the edges of the usually-golden sun seemed tinged with red fire. The mountain peak was a dusky blueish-gray in the fading light.

The children were captured by the awe of it all. “Truly God’s the Master Designer of this wonderful world!” Star whispered.

“No one can ever paint such a glorious sunset as well as God can,” Cloudy said to Wylanda, who nodded her head.

“Thanks be to God,” Scazzarda murmured. “It’s by His mercy we are able to stand here before Him and admire His handiwork. It’s by His grace that we are not struck dead by His hand right now.”

“Amen,” Eloise said. Then she looked to Wylanda. “Oh, um, by the way, Wylanda, I wanted to apologize for those awful things I said to you. I didn’t mean it, really.”

“Apology accepted,” Wylanda said, then looked around at the group with a smile on her face. “So, does this mean we’re all friends now?”

“Well, of course!” Miriam said, dashing over to Wylanda. “We’re friends now!”

“Cool,” Wylanda said. “Well, what do you want to do first?”

“I think the feast will take place in forty-five minutes or so,” Eloise said, looking at her watch. “Let’s go to the house and help set up the picnic tables Mrs. Turner provided.”

Wylanda started to walk toward the house, but halted and looked back at the knight. His sun-colored eyes glared at her from beneath his mask, his body wrapped in his cape. Wylanda wanted to say how much she was sorry for insulting him, but felt too afraid to approach him. Instead, she smiled apologetically, hoping that would communicate the message. He seemed to understand what she was trying to tell him, for he kindly nodded. Feeling better, Wylanda ran off to join her friends.

Scazzarda chuckled as she watched the kids start a game of tag on their way to the house. “Magnus, what do you think of those children?”

The knight’s eyes landed on Cloudy, her green eyes sparkling in the last light of the sun, her kind smile seeming to illuminate the dark, her necklace swaying rhythmically from side to side as she darted left and right, trying to deviate the others from touching her. There was something about her that set her apart from the rest of the children, but he wasn’t sure what.

“They’re different,” was all he would say.

 

* * * * *

 

Showerstorm caught Cloudy and Star as they were trying to push two picnic tables in line with one another. “Psst,” he whispered, handing each of them a large bucket. “Go out and collect as much money as you can from the people here—that is, if they want to donate. Okay?”

“Why?” Star asked.

“Don’t ask questions. Just go.”

Star looked like she was about to argue, but Cloudy stopped her with a warning look. Star looked puzzled as the two sisters walked off together through the crowd. “Why are we doing this?” she whispered.

Cloudy gave her a surprised look. “Don’t you remember? It’s for Miriam’s mom,” she said. Then she added in a whisper, “But don’t tell them until Mommy says so.”

“Okay,” Star agreed, and the two sisters went to work collecting money.

 

* * * * *

 

Springtime smiled nervously as the people filed among the row of picnic tables and took their seats. All the tables were arranged vertically except for one in front of the house, which was arranged horizontally. That was the table at which Springtime, Showerstorm, the Covens, and the Stellarums would sit.

“It’s starting in a minute,” Miriam said to her mother. The two were standing together on the porch.

Meredith groaned and placed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t even know why you brought me out here. I don’t feel good.”

“Cloudy said her parents had a surprise for us, but wouldn’t say what it was,” Miriam said.

Cloudy rushed up the steps and stopped before mother and daughter. “Are you guys gonna join the feast?” she asked.

“Yes,” Miriam said gravely.

Meredith sighed. “Sure, I suppose so. But I’m not feeling very well.”

“That’s expected when you’re having a baby,” Cloudy said nonchalantly, her eyes roaming over the packed crowds.

Meredith started. “What did you say?”

“You’re pregnant, Mom!” Miriam cheered. “Miss Springtime said so!”

Meredith was stunned. Slowly the tears filled her eyes. “A-A baby?” she murmured.

Miriam nodded and did a pirouette.

“Okay, everyone, welcome to our Thanksgiving feast!” Springtime announced into a megaphone. “We’re pleased and proud that you would join us, and we will say grace in a few moments. But first,” she said, “we have a special surprise to present to a Mrs. Meredith Capperdale and her daughter, Miriam. Please come here.”

Meredith and Miriam looked at each other and Miriam shrugged. The two walked sedately down the steps and over to the front table.

Springtime cleared her throat and looked to her husband, who picked up the two buckets and pushed them toward Meredith. “This is to help pay off your loans,” he said in a low tone.

Meredith peered into one of the buckets and gave a sound gasp. “Good grief!” she cried out. “How much is in here?!”

“There’s just as much in the other one!” Miriam exclaimed.

Showerstorm winked at his wife and picked up a third bucket, bigger than the other two, and pushed it to Meredith. The woman’s eyes were wide. “We sent out a third recruit to gather money when Star and Cloudy got tired,” he said, casting his gaze on Nika. She smiled proudly.

“So this is for you, Meredith, and we hope you will be able to stay in this neighborhood,” Springtime concluded. She looked out toward the audience. “And I’d like to extend out warmest and sincerest thanks for all those who donated to help this family!”

There was a thunderous applause and cheers and whistles filled the air. Meredith was speechless and shocked while Miriam was amazed. The two looked to Cloudy, but she shook her head and pointed to her parents. “It was their idea,” she mouthed.

Meredith smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “I will pay these loans back as soon as we get home.”

At the word “home,” Miriam cheered and began dancing around. Everyone laughed and smiled at the little girl.

“And now to proceed with the feast,” Springtime said once everyone had quieted down and taken their seats. “But before we do, I want to give an overview of our history and how we came to celebrate this special holiday.
“Three hundred years ago, the Pilgrims left their home in Leudon and sailed on the Moonflower to escape religious persecution in their hometown from James I,” she began. “They sailed for sixty-five days before finally reaching the place which we call Dreamland. Many died that first winter, but when spring came, Indians such as Squinto, Missosoit, and Sumosot helped them and taught the Pilgrims many things. And that first fall in the New World, they had a huge feast. That feast day became known to the world as Thanksgiving.”

Then she held up a rose, apparently snipped off one of Cloudy’s rosebushes. “This rose became the symbol for gratitude, and we will have Scazzarda Stellarum explain why.”

As Scazzarda again explained the meaning of the rose, Cloudy looked around at the joyous crowd and smiled. She thought over the events of the past two weeks. Just a few days ago Miriam’s family was in debt, Wylanda was a jerk, and nothing seemed to be going right. But now Miriam could stay in Spring Breeze, Wylanda was saved, and everything had turned out wonderfully. Cloudy knew only the hand of the Lord Himself could have worked things out in such a mighty and marvelous way.

“And now,” Springtime said when Scazzarda had finished, “we will have a few stand up and say what they are thankful for.”

A young woman stood up. “I’m thankful for my husband and my family and for the grace the Lord has shown, thought I went astray in previous years while battling drugs and rehab,” she said.

A middle-aged man was next. “I’m thankful my wife, though she’s ill with cancer, is still alive, and that I’m able to be with her at the hospital. I’m thankful for my children and what they are becoming.”

“I’m thankful for my mommy and baby brother,” a little girl about three years old said.

Wylanda then stood. “I’m thankful for my best friends and that I’m a child of the King—and that we’re all able to be here tonight as God’s family,” she said firmly.

Miriam was next. “I’m so grateful for my unborn sibling and for the fact that God is with us and that I’m able to stay in this neighborhood,” she said.

A few more people went before Cloudy stood and prepared to say what she was thankful for. Her eyes landed on the knight, who was holding his mother’s hand. Scazzarda smiled at him, and his eyes glowed light blue.

Cloudy lifted her head and said strongly, “I have many things I am thankful for, but before I begin, I want to say something.
“I am aware many here are struggling with past trauma, and I will not say I can relate, because I cannot. But I can tell you this: If you have the Lord Jesus Christ in your life, you are in good hands. The Lord will preserve you if you trust Him.
“I am also aware that many here may not have ever made a personal choice to accept the Lord. If so, the time is now. Today is the day of salvation; don’t wait any longer. You’re not promised tomorrow, nor your next breath.”

Springtime listened to her daughter speak these bold words and smiled at her husband. He nodded imperceptibly and listened.

“And now for my thankfulness list: I am thankful for my family and my friends. I am thankful that we are all here to tonight. I am thankful that I have shelter, food, water, a good school, and good hygiene,” Cloudy said. Some people chuckled at the last statement. “But most importantly, I am thankful that Jesus is my Friend and that He will never forsake me or leave me. I am thankful Jesus is Jesus!”

Everyone began to clap. It started out quietly and then grew louder and louder until Cloudy thought she would become deaf. She pinned down her ears to block out the roar of the mass of clapping hands and paws. The applause went on for so long that finally Springtime had to stop it.

“Now who wants to say grace?” Showerstorm asked.

“I will,” Scazzarda volunteered.

While Scazzarda payed for God’s blessing over the food, Cloudy looked over at the knight. He seemed ill at ease and rather uncomfortable with the fact that his mother was praying. Cloudy felt a bit concerned and sorry for him. He didn’t strike her as the kind to trust others, and she felt it had something to do with his past. She made up her mind to be his personal friend. So while the others were praying, she quickly grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and scribbled down a short but powerful poem. She folded it carefully and tucked it away as Scazzarda finished her prayer.

“Now let the feast begin!” Springtime announced.

As happy hands passed around the food from table to table, Miriam leaned over and whispered to Cloudy, “Isn’t it amazing what the Lord can do?”

“Yes,” Cloudy said softly—and she meant it.

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Six: The Talk

 

Cloudy hurried around the corner of her house, ignoring the temptation to stop and smell the tantalizing scent of the roses, and went to the back. There, her back to the brick wall, sat Wylanda. Her face was buried in her hands and she sat, motionless. No one else was in sight.

Cloudy started to approach Wylanda but hesitated. She had no clue how Wylanda would react after Eloise’s thoughtless words, but Cloudy couldn’t let a little thing like that stop her from helping Wylanda.

Cloudy cleared her throat. “Wylanda?”

Wylanda raised her head and glared at the puppy. “Well, what do you want? I’m not exactly in a talkative mood right now.”

“I just wanted to see how you were,” Cloudy explained.

Wylanda’s baleful look gave way to one of blankness. Slowly she put her right hand in her dress pocket and withdrew a kitchen knife. Cloudy’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Did Wylanda intend to stab her?

“What are you doing with that?” Cloudy quickly asked, backing away. She recognized the knife as one of her own family’s.

Wylanda sighed and set the knife on the ground, much to Cloudy’s relief. “I snagged it when I first arrived here and had to use the restroom.”

“Why?” Cloudy asked, bewildered.

Wylanda scowled, her face a mask of anger. “Why do I need to tell you that? You’re a little kid; you wouldn’t understand.”

Cloudy was ready with her answer. “Little kids understand a whole lot more than most think they do.”

Wylanda blinked, astonished at the reply. Then she shook her head and sighed again. “Okay, I guess I might as well tell you.” She crossed her arms. “I was going to stab myself.”

“You were going to do what?!” Cloudy gasped. Wylanda’s words sent a shock wave throughout her body. “W-Why would you ever dream of doing such an awful thing to yourself?!”

Wylanda’s dark eyes snapped. “Look, I hate my life. I hate my parents. I hate my school. And I hate you. So back off and leave me to do what I came here to do.” She reached for the knife.

Quick as a flash of lightning, Cloudy leaped forward and grabbed the knife handle in her teeth. “No,” she said sternly, shaking her head vigorously. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Oh, quit messing with me. Give me the knife.”

“No” Cloudy repeated.

“Give it to me!”

“No!”

Wylanda stood up and attempted to snatch the knife, but Cloudy backpedaled and Wylanda tripped, falling facefirst on the ground. She shook her head as she sat up, her eyes blank.

“Wylanda,” Cloudy said in a more gentle tone, “why would you want to kill yourself just because you hate everything about your life? And how can you hate everything anyway? What about your fancy belongings and everything?”

Wylanda sighed and brushed the dirt off her clothes. “Can’t you see, Cloudy?”

“See what?”

“You’re so gullible you actually fell for what I said,” Wylanda said, misery overshadowing her face. Cloudy raised an eyebrow, not understanding. “I lied, Cloudy. I don’t have jewels or live in a big mansion, nor am I rich. My parents use every cent of their savings in order to help me pay for therapy and school.”

“You lied?” Cloudy was astonished. She had never known Wylanda to admit anything like that. “But why?”

“Because I was jealous of you,” Wylanda went on. “You have a happy home, wonderful parents who love you and care for you, and good friends and an amazing school. But I, the lone jerk, didn’t want you to make fun of me because I was poor, so I pretended I had more than you did.”

Cloudy sat down and laid the knife on the ground, keeping one paw on the flat on the blade. “Wylanda, I would never have judged you. Miriam is poor too, and I don’t judge her.”

“Why not?” Wylanda asked, searching Cloudy’s eyes. “Don’t you care about having friends of your social status?”

Cloudy became angry. “Okay, you listen here, Wylanda Coven. I don’t care about my friends’ social statuses any more than I care about watering my rosebushes. All I care about is if my friends are right with God. The heart is what matters. And I’m sick of people rejecting others who are supposedly beneath them or not up to their standards. Have you not heard that God created each person equal and with tremendous value?”

Wylanda was briefly startled by Cloudy’s strong response, but relaxed and answered, “Yeah, I’ve heard it.”

“Do you believe it?” the puppy challenged.

Wylanda cast her gaze to the ground. “Well. . .I don’t. . .I don’t really know. I guess?”

“Do you think I have tremendous value in the eyes of God?”

Wylanda kept her eyes on the grass for the longest time. When she finally looked up, Cloudy saw tears in her eyes. “How can I?” she whispered. “I came from a bad family.”

“Came?” Cloudy repeated. “You mean you had a different family before your current one?”

“Mother and Father Coven are my foster parents,” Wylanda explained. “They adopted me after my parents abandoned me on the sidewalk after I was born.”

Cloudy was aghast. “W-Why on earth?”

“They didn’t want a girl.”

“Well, that’s a dumb reason to abandon a helpless baby on the sidewalk,” Cloudy exclaimed. “It’s obvious they didn’t care for you.”

“When I was two, Mother and Father Coven came to the orphanage to adopt a child because they couldn’t have children of their own,” Wylanda continued just as if Cloudy hadn’t spoken. “They fell in love with me and later adopted me, and they’ve cared for me ever since and wanted me to have the best life possible. But to me, it seems worse than my first life.”

Cloudy shook her head in distress. “Wylanda, your parents loved you enough to do that for you. Their love is the reason you’re not dead on that sidewalk right now. If you kill yourself, it will be a real blow to them.” She looked Wylanda right in the eye. “Don’t you know that?”

Wylanda looked miserable, but she nodded.

“Then how can you do this to yourself?!” Cloudy wailed. “Do you seriously want to hurt your parents the way your biological parents did to you?”

Wylanda’s face crumpled and she burst into a torrent of sobs. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I don’t know anything anymore. All I know is that I feel so miserable and alone.”

“That’s because you don’t have God in your life,” Cloudy insisted. “Oh, Wylanda, if you would just run to Him!”

“How can I?” Wylanda demanded. “I’m so poor and I have a terrible background! Imagine God wanting someone like me!”

“But he does want you,” Cloudy declared. “He loves you so much He died for you!”

Wylanda frowned angrily and her eyes seemed to be flaming. “I know that,” she said in disgust. “I know He died! But I don’t believe He was ever resurrected!”

“Why not?” Cloudy asked.

“Several reasons,” Wylanda said in the manner of a teacher. “One, the resurrection violates natural laws. No one can come back to life. My public school teachers even said so. It’s impossible!”

“Then how do you explain the biblical account of Jesus rising from the dead?” Cloudy demanded. “It literally say right in the Bible that Christ is alive!”

Wylanda smiled, but it seemed like a half-smile. “My teachers told me there were several theories regarding that. One is the swoon theory, in which Jesus never actually died but only fainted and later revived in the tomb. The second is the theft theory, or the fact that the disciples stole the body. And thirdly, there’s the hallucination theory, in which the disciples only imagined seeing Jesus.”

Cloudy took a deep breath and looked to the sky. She remembered her parents teaching her about these theories and giving several points to disprove each of them. She was going to have to tackle these theories one at a time.

“The swoon theory doesn’t work,” Cloudy began.

“Yeah? And why not?” Wylanda asked.

“Well, for one, if Jesus wasn’t actually dead, then why would the Roman executioners have skipped breaking His legs on the cross? Second, the Sanhedrin leaders wanted the body of Jesus taken off the cross before the Sabbath. If Jesus were not actually dead, they would not have allowed this. Third, Jesus’ tombstone was heavy and weighed as much as 4,000 pounds and was rolled into a sloped groove. Jesus would not have been able to get to the stone’s edges in order to roll it back and get out. Fourth, Jesus appeared in a healthy, glorified body with only nail scars. If He had survived the crucifixion and was not actually dead to start with, He would have been weak, bleeding, and in need of medical aid, but that’s not how we see the Bible describe Him. And finally, there are many well-known medical scholars who have disproved the swoon theory because it’s medically, historically, and logically impossible.”

Wylanda’s mouth dropped in shock as she stared at Cloudy. How could a little girl like Cloudy have provided so big a mound of evidence? “Who taught you all that?!”

“My parents!” Cloudy exclaimed.

Wylanda smoothed out her dress, lost in thought. All of Cloudy’s evidence made her public school teachers’ words seem vain and untruthful. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps Cloudy was right about the resurrection. “I’m impressed,” she said finally. “And those proofs do make the swoon theory seem less, uh, true.”

“It’s not true,” Cloudy said quietly. “God raised Jesus from the dead.”

Wylanda shrugged, not certain what to say. “Okay, then. What about the theft theory?”

“The theft theory?” Cloudy thought a few seconds before answering. “Okay, yes. The theft theory is implausible for several reasons, but I’ll only give a few because there’s too many.
“One, the linen wrappings found in the tomb were neatly folded, with the head cloth folded separately from the other cloths. If the disciples had truly taken Jesus’ body, they wouldn’t have bothered to carefully remove and neatly fold the garments. Plus, the orderliness of the wrappings indicated the body vanished without being handled physically, which is a sign of resurrection and not theft.
“Two, if the body had truly been stolen, why did nobody ever expose the fraud? The Jewish leaders, the Romans, or even the disciples ever admitted or recanted the lie. And besides, the disciples suffered mightily at the hands of their persecutors but were steadfast in their faith. If the disciples had truly stolen the body, they would never have endured such persecution for what they knew to be a fraud.”
“Three, the body has never been found anywhere. No one has ever found credible proof of Jesus’ body. If the disciples had stolen the body, they would have hidden it somewhere, but it would have been discovered sooner or later. But that’s not the case. Those are only a few out of many proofs, but I think you’re beginning to see the problem with the theft theory.”

“Yeah, I am,” Wylanda admitted. “You know, Cloudy, your words—I actually find myself believing them. All the evidence you’re professing is so—overwhelming. I never felt like that with anything my public school teachers or friends told me.”

Cloudy grinned. “I think the Lord is working in your heart, Wylanda.” She cleared her throat and attempted to look formal. “And now for the final theory—the hallucination theory.”

“Yeah?” Wylanda looked curious. “How is that implausible?”

“The hallucination theory is implausible because, for one, group hallucinations are just weird, not to mention medically impossible. There is no documented case of a group hallucination anywhere in medical history. Over five hundred people saw the risen Christ, and I seriously doubt all five hundred saw the same hallucination. That’s just not possible, nor is it scientifically logical.
“Two, if the disciples were really just hallucinating, the Romans or the Jewish leaders could have simply produced Jesus’ body and that would have been the end of it. But no, that’s not what happened. No one ever produced the body, not even when the disciples preached the resurrection messages all over Jerusalem.
“Three, the transformation in the disciples also rules out the hallucination theory. They went from fearful, hiding cowards to bold witness men who preached the resurrection, even while facing persecution and martyrdom. No hallucinations could spark such bold, life-changing commitment—especially among a group who had no prior expectation of Jesus’ resurrection.”

Wylanda placed her palms together and gave Cloudy an admiring look. “You’re good,” she confessed. “You make my public school teachers look like the most uneducated individuals on this planet!”

Cloudy smiled, knowing it was a compliment. She hoped she could convince Wylanda of Jesus’ resurrection, as well as His love for her. “Are there any other reasons you don’t believe in the resurrection?” Cloudy asked.

Wylanda put her chin in her hand and thought a minute, then answered, “Yes, there are. Another reason I don’t believe—or not really believe—in the resurrection is that it goes against what I believe about the Bible.”

“Which is what?” Cloudy asked, puzzled.

“I don’t believe everything in the Bible was meant to be take literally,” Wylanda explained. “My public school teachers said we have to choose which parts make sense and which parts don’t. They said the parts we choose will vary from person to person. . .”

“But if it varies so much,” Cloudy said, “how can you ever know which parts are true and which parts aren’t if everybody has different views?”

Wylanda didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know,” she admitted, folding her hands and looking at some dried mortar stuck on the outside of the brick wall. “I guess the more I think about it, the less sense it makes.”

Cloudy nodded understandingly. “Any more reasons you don’t believe in the resurrection, or is that it?”

“No, there’s one more, and I believe it’s the most important.” Wylanda looked Cloudy straight in the eye. “If God is truly alive, why isn’t He taking care of His creation?”

“He is,” Cloudy said, knitting her brow.

“But how can He be? There’s so much suffering and evil in the world, and I thought God loved all. If He does, then why won’t He stop the evil?”

Cloudy sighed. “This question’s been bothering you for some time, hasn’t it? I can tell.”

“Yeah, it has,” Wylanda admitted.

Cloudy frowned, suddenly looking sorrowful. “Is that why you’re so opposed to God? Because of what happened to you?”

Wylanda bit her lip and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

Cloudy sighed and dropped her head. “Then I will answer your question as openly as possible, Wylanda. But I have never been in your shoes, so it will be hard to relate these concepts from my viewpoint, okay?”

“Okay,” Wylanda said, settling back onto the grass to listen.

“God allows evil in the world because he highly values free will and genuine love, which require the ability to choose. And that includes making the choice to do evil.”

Wylanda frowned slightly. “But God hates evil, doesn’t He?”

“Yes, and that’s why He will one day restore the heavens and earth to perfection. But we’ll get to that in a minute.” Cloudy scratched her ear with her hind leg, then went on, “God’s nature is agape love. Do you know what that is?”

Wylanda nodded. “Yes. Agape love is a selfless, sacrificial, unconditional love and is not based on feelings or personal gain. Rather, it’s a deliberate choice to seek the highest good of others even when they are unlovable or ungrateful. This divine gift is possible only through the work of the Holy Spirit.”

“Yes,” Cloudy said. “But back to your question. Since God’s nature is agape, which means it’s not coercive or controlling, God gave us the choice to choose right or wrong. He gave us free will. That includes having the freedom to either choose Him or reject Him. If God stopped evil by force, He would make us robots, forced to do what He wanted, thus overriding our free will. He would be acting against His own nature, in other words, and thus love and relationship would be impossible because they require authentic choice. God cannot force anyone to love Him, for if He did, He would not truly be loving us.
“God cannot stop evil singlehandedly without violating our freedom, so instead He uses the Holy Spirit to convict others of sin and bring them to Christ. We are stewards of this world, and our choices have consequences. Those consequences affect the world, depending on if they are good or bad.
“God is consistently limiting evil. Just look in the Bible. God restrained Satan in Job and confused the languages of the people at Babel when they disobeyed Him after He commanded them to spread out across the world. He also uses evil to bring about something good, such as Joseph’s betrayal by his brothers leading to salvation and Jesus’ crucifixion bringing us redemption. Romans 8:28 says, ‘And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.’
“Evil’s existence also allows for the ultimate glory of God—His justice, mercy, and great power over sin and death. Jesus’ death on the cross shows us all that God endured such suffering to defeat evil through love and sacrifice, not force. One day the universe will be restored to perfection and evil will be no more, but until that time, God is working through us all to bring light, hope, healing, and transformation to a dark world desperately in need of a wonderful Savior.”

Cloudy inhaled and then exhaled, feeling relieved, though she wasn’t at all sure why. Wylanda hadn’t said a word in all this time. She had only listened with intense rapture and fascination.

“You know,” Wylanda said after a few minutes, startling Cloudy, “Some of what you said sounded an awful lot like what Miriam told me.”

“Miriam?” Cloudy said, astonished. “You mean you talked to Miriam?”

“Yes, today before she returned to you guys and I appeared and—and started acting like a jerk,” Wylanda said, sounding ashamed. She sighed and then launched into a summary of what Miriam had told her. When she finished, Cloudy was nodding.

“What Miriam and I have told you is true,” Cloudy said. “You’ve seen the evidence for yourself, Wylanda. But now you must make a choice—will you accept the evidence and push it away to keep on living as you are right now?”

Wylanda twisted her fingers together, apparently uncomfortable, but she blurted out, “I don’t want to keep living in misery. I want happiness.”

“The only way to obtain true happiness is salvation through Christ,” Cloudy explained. “But this is a personal choice, Wylanda. If you make this commitment, you have to show you’ve made it through your actions and words. It’s not a, ‘Oh, I’m gonna make this commitment and then keep living however I want.’ No, that’s not how this commitment works. You have to show you’re saved and changed and ready to live for Jesus. And yes, others will persecute you and laugh at you for your faith, but Jesus warned us of this. He said in John 15:18–21, ‘If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. Remember what I told you: “A servant is not greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also. They will treat you this way because of my name, for they do not know the one who sent me.’
“So remember, Wylanda, that you will face many trials and tribulations in this world, but Jesus has overcome the evils of this world and He will give you strength to face every day.”

Wylanda sat where she was, deep in thought. Her eyes were full of longing and unhappiness, but Cloudy could also see the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Her face seemed to radiate with a strange, unnatural light.

“I want to do it,” Wylanda said suddenly.

“Huh?” Cloudy asked.

“I want to accept Jesus.”

“You do?” Cloudy was astonished; she hadn’t expected her words to have such an impact on Wylanda.

“Yes,” Wylanda said firmly and without hesitation. “God provided the evidence for me, but like a fool, I pushed it away. I refused to bring myself to the feet of my Savior and Lord. But when the Lord sent you to me, He just seemed to speak to my heart more clearly than ever before. I see it all now. I was a blind fool. God is real, He is divine, He has a purpose for everything and everybody, and I know He is alive and working even to this very day. If Christ were not alive, you wouldn’t even be able to speak these wonderful words of truth to me so confidently, Cloudy!”

Cloudy was amazed. The Lord had worked a miracle right before her very eyes! “But why would you say that I wouldn’t be able to say such words of truth so confidently if Christ were not alive, Wylanda?”

“I based that off of 1 Corinthians 15:12-19. That was one of my memory verses in school,” Wylanda explained. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember this before I had this talk with you, but I just remembered. The verse says, ‘But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.’ I guess that solves the entire question: Is Jesus really alive? The answer is: Yes!”

“You’re right,” Cloudy said cheerfully. “And I’m glad you finally realized that.” A misty haze of wonder clouded her eyes. “But are you sure you want to be saved?”

“Yes.”

“This is going to be the most important choice you’ll ever make, Wylanda. Don’t take it lightly.”

“I swear I won’t. But I wish to make this choice once and for all.”

“Then I will leave you to do so. Take your time,” Cloudy said, bowing dramatically to Wylanda and then going around to the front of the house. The Covens and her parents were chatting gaily on the porch. Springtime took a chance during a break in the conversation to wave and smile to Cloudy. Cloudy waved and smiled in return.

“Where’s Wylanda?” Mrs. Coven called down to her.

“Oh, she’ll be out any minute now,” Cloudy said, winking at her mother. Springtime just gave her daughter a puzzled look. “Say, how’s the turkey coming along?”

“It should be ready in ten minutes and then the feast will start in an hour,” Springtime answered. “How are the others?”

Cloudy blanched. “I-I haven’t been back to look at them,” she said. “I was talking to Wylanda.”

“Oh, okay,” Springtime said distractedly, flipping a burger on the grill. “Well, just make sure they’re all okay when you have the time, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cloudy answered. Suddenly bored, she leaned close to one of the roses and sniffed it, then sneezed. “Oh, excuse me.”

Mrs. Coven smiled and said in a low tone to Springtime, “Cloudy is really polite. How did you raise her to be so well-mannered?”

“We prayed a lot,” Springtime said lightly. Showerstorm nodded in agreement.

While the adults were laughing, Cloudy slipped behind the hose again and almost ran into Wylanda, who was coming around to the front. But this was not the sullen, miserable, rude Wylanda. This was a changed, hopeful, happy, and kind Wylanda whose face radiated with joy and peace.

“Cloudy!” To Cloudy’s shock, Wylanda picked her up and embraced her. “Guess what? I’m Jesus’ daughter now!”

“Hooray!” Cloudy cheered, leaping about with joy. “How do you feel now?”

“Absolutely spectacular!” Wylanda said. Then she starting laughing ruefully.

“What? What’s so funny?” Cloudy wanted to know.

“I was just reminded of something that had to do with my necklace,” Wylanda said,. She grinned and fingered the porcelain rose. “In Dreamland, a rose is a symbol of gratitude, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I found it ironic that not too long ago I was ungrateful and miserable, and yet I was wearing this necklace!” She burst out laughing all over again.

Cloudy laughed too. “Speaking of that necklace,” she said, scrutinizing it, “it’s really pretty. Where’d you get it from?”

“Mother’s Coven’s sister gave it to me when I was five,” Wylanda said. A sober look came over her face. “I never forgot what she told me when she placed it into my hand for the first time.”

“And what was that?”

“She told me, ‘Dear Wylanda, always hold onto and treasure this necklace, for it is a symbol of how much you are truly blessed.’”

“Wow,” Cloudy breathed. “That’s amazing.”

Wylanda continued to look at the rose. Then she looked at the rosebushes and then at the many people who wore dresses or jewelry with roses on it. “Is that why,” she wondered, “so many of these people here are wearing roses?”

“I think so,” Cloudy said. “It’s to show they’re grateful—I guess.” She glanced meaningfully at Wylanda.

Wylanda understood the look. “I know, I know,” she sighed. “I was a jerk, and I’m very sorry. I’ll go apologize to everyone and then to my parents.”

“Do you have the knife?” Cloudy asked.

Wylanda produced it from her dress pocket. “You left it on the ground,” she said. “I picked it up to bring it back to your family.”

“Then let’s go,” Cloudy said.

“Wait,” Wylanda called to her. She unclasped the necklace and walked over to Cloudy, then placed the chain around the puppy’s neck and secured the clasp. “You have this.”

“Oh, no!” Cloudy protested, shaking her head. “Your aunt told you to hold onto it! I don’t want to take such a treasure from you.”

“I have a treasure—worth far more value than that necklace. You keep it,” she said. Then she ran off toward the tree house to apologize to Cloudy’s friends.

Cloudy watched her go with a bit of dismay. She didn’t want to take such a lovely treasure from Wylanda, but Wylanda seemed willing to give the necklace to her. “Perhaps I’d better keep it,” Cloudy said to herself.

Then she smiled. “And maybe whenever I feel ungrateful, this necklace will remind me to have a thankful heart.”

Books

Book 1: Thankful Hearts

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Chapter Five: Wylanda’s Ingratitude

 

Cloudy watched Wylanda stalk off, her hair blowing back in a light breeze, the hem of her dress flapping lazily. When she had disappeared among the thick crowd, Cloudy turned to the knight and apologized, “I’m sorry about Wylanda, Magnus. She’s quite rude to everyone she meets except for those who are in her social status lane.”

The knight bowed his head, extremely uncomfortable. Uncomfortable both with being made fun of and being the center of someone’s sympathy, which he absolutely hated. He managed a smile. “It’s okay, Cloudy. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Dang right it wasn’t her fault!” said Eloise. “Why, I bet you anything Wylanda’s parents don’t raise her right! No wonder she’s a spoiled brat!”

Sharkell tilted his head. “But if so, Eloise, why do they send her to a Christian school? Why bother to spend all that money when they could just get her into the local public school for free?”

Eloise shrugged. “I wish I knew that part of the puzzle.” She scowled angrily. “But nonetheless, Wylanda should know better than to behave so irrationally.”

Scazzarda brushed an ant off her dress. “Now, now, kids. We may not understand exactly why Wylanda acts the way she does, but the important thing is to treat her with kindness.” She shook her head a little sadly. “I think that girl may have some personality problems linked to her past.”

Cloudy frowned, her eyes thoughtful.

Star paid little attention to Scazzarda’s words. Sitting down and scratching her ear, she addressed herself directly to her friends. “Speaking of Wylanda’s parents, have you guys even seen them? They don’t like anything like Wylanda. They have dark skin, too, unlike her.”

Sniper scoffed. “So? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It might,” Star told him, briefly detaining from her ear-scratching and looking at him. “She could be adopted.”

“Or maybe her parents’ family lines are mixed,” Sniper pointed out. “Maybe one line has dark skin color and the other light.”

“Maybe.” Star sighed deeply. “But even their physical features aren’t the same. They look completely different.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s adopted,” Sniper said. Then his face lit up and he grinned. “Maybe she was kidnapped like that girl in the movie Tangled was by that creepy woman.”

“Okay, going a little too far there, Sniper,” responded Cloudy, giving him a sideways look. “But maybe Star’s right. Maybe the girl really is adopted.”

“Who cares if she is? Doesn’t give her a right to be mean, does it?” Sharkell snapped. “She should learn to be nicer to us.”

“Well, maybe we should learn to be nicer to her,” Cloudy retorted.

“Huh?!” Sniper exclaimed, completely taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“We haven’t exactly been very nice to her,” Cloudy admitted. “When she said mean things to us, we reacted rudely, though some of us might not have known it. Maybe we thought we were handling the situation the way it was supposed to be handled, but that’s not the case. In hindsight, we’re really acting just as bad as she is.”

Sniper was too stunned to speak, but Sharkell asked, “What showed you we were doing that, Cloudy?”

Cloudy cast a glance at Scazzarda. “Miss Scazzarda did. It was what she said about treating Wylanda with kindness that really got me thinking, and it occurred to me that that was not what we have been doing. Rather, it was the—” She hunted for the right words. “—the polar opposite.”

“Oh. . .” Sharkell’s voice trailed off.

Sniper finally spoke. “But why should we treat someone with kindness when they’ve been so mean to us?”

“Gosh, Sniper!” Cloudy burst out, frustrated with him. She stood up straight, her tail erect and her voice loud as she glared angrily into the wide, astonished eyes of her older brother. “Even God tells us to love and treat our enemies with kindness! Don’t you ever read God’s Word?”

Sniper’s response sent a shock wave through her body: “Don’t you?”

The fire melted out of Cloudy’s eyes. She stared at Sniper, his eyes glaring defiantly into hers, his angry look communicating something to her. And she suddenly understood. Why was she bearing down on her brother for something she was guilty of as well? Jesus’ words from Matthew 7:1-5 popped into her mind:

“Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”

The passage was not referring to literal specks and logs, but rather sin. Two or more people who have committed the same sin cannot judge one another because they are all guilty. It was like scolding your little sister for her theft of a cookie from Mom’s cookie jar when you stole a cookie too.

Cloudy whapped her tail slowly, lost in thought, her gaze to the ground. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then looked up at Sniper. “Sniper, I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged you for being mean to Wylanda. I’m guilty for being mean to her as well. Please forgive me.”

Sniper chewed his lower lip and looked at the slide, the swing, the tree house, and finally Cloudy. “Apology accepted. I forgive you,” he said softly.

Cloudy looked to the knight to see if he had any comment on this, but the realized he was gone. She blinked in surprise and quickly looked this way and that, but didn’t see him anywhere. “Miss Scazzarda?” she shouted.

“What is it, dear?”

“Where’s Magnus? He’s not here!”

“Hmm?” Scazzarda stood up and shaded her eyes from the glaring sun, looking around for her son. When she couldn’t spot him, she shrugged and sat back down in her shady spot underneath the tree house. “Oh, he probably went off by himself for a while. He does that a lot. Don’t worry about him.”

“Why does he go off by himself?” Star wondering, gazing wonderingly at Scazzarda.

“When he wants to be alone or to think.”

“What does he want to think about?” Sniper asked with a slight smirk. It was obvious he was being more than a little nosy.

Scazzarda’s tranquil expression changed to one of uneasiness and wariness. “Well, I can’t say.”

“Why not?” Arrow asked.

“You’re not old enough to understand,” was the reply.

Arrow decided not to say anything more. So did Cloudy. Both decided to trust Scazzarda’s judgment; after all, she was older and wiser. The other children looked curiously at one another, their eyes bright and puzzled, but did not speak.

“Oh, oh,” Miriam said, noticing her mother standing at the edge of the crowd and waving to her. “Looks like Mom wants me. BRB.” And like a shot, she was off and running.

“BRB?” Cloudy repeated.

“Be right back,” Scazzarda murmured sleepily, her eyes drifting closed.

“Oh.” Cloudy fell silent, watching Miriam tear through the throng as fast as she could.

 

* * * * *

 

“What?!” Miriam stared wild-eyed at her mother, her face full of shock and disbelief. “We have to leave the feast?! Why?!!”

“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” Meredith said shortly. “I’m tired and dizzy and I feel sick. I just want to go home.”

Miriam caught her mother’s hand and pressed it gently to her chest. “Mom, you’re stressing yourself out too much. You need to relax.”

“Relax!” Meredith spat the word as if she had heard something unpleasant. “How can I relax if my husband is weak and injured and we’re about to be homeless?!”

Miriam was surprised beyond measure. If her mother had ever showed any lack of faith, it was now. Putting her hands on her hips and speaking sharply, Miriam retorted, “Mom, what happened to trusting God to provide for our needs?”

“Provide.” Meredith whispered the word as though it were foreign to her. “Provide?” Her eyes glazed over and she grabbed the top fence rail.

“Mom?” Miriam said, fear beginning to bubble up in her at her mother’s strange look. “Are you all right?”

“I’m. . .fine. . .” Suddenly Meredith swayed and almost fell, but Miriam caught her arm and stopped her from toppling to the ground.

“Meredith!” Springtime yelled, running toward her with Showerstorm in tow. “Are you okay?”

Meredith turned toward Springtime, her eyes devoid of any light. “No.” She sounded as if she would cry.

“Mom!”

“Meredith!”

“Here, I’ve got her,” Showerstorm said, supporting Meredith as he led her to the house to lie down. Springtime watched them go, then turned to Miriam. “Your mother will be okay, honey,” she said soothingly.

Miriam’s face was filled with worry and her eyes with tears. Her chin trembled as she whispered, “is Mom sick? Is something wrong with her?”

Springtime knelt down so that she was on eye level with the little girl. “Has your mother had these symptoms for a while?”

Miriam nodded. “Yeah, for about three weeks or so.”

“Has she vomited in the morning at all?”

Miriam nodded again, looking confused. “Why do you ask?”

Springtime grinned widely as she stood up and headed for the house. “If I’m not mistaken, Miriam,” she said over her shoulder, “you might be having a little brother or sister soon!”

Miriam stared at Springtime’s retreating back, amazed. A little brother or sister?! Did that mean a baby?!! Miriam was so happy she smiled, her heart full of gladness. She wanted to dance, jump, laugh, whoop with joy, shout the good news to everyone—but she didn’t.

“I must run to tell my friends,” she said to herself. “They’ll be amazed.” With these thoughts in mind, she sprinted excitedly in the direction of the tree house, pausing only when someone got in her way. Politely she asked them to move and was off again.

Miriam was almost to the tree house when someone stepped in front of her again. With a resigned sigh, she was about to ask the person to please move aside when she saw who it was. Her breath caught in her throat and her dark eyes grew wide.

It was Wylanda!

For a moment, the two stared each other down. Then Wylanda spoke, “Where are you going, little beggar girl?”

Miriam found herself blushing as she glanced at her worn brown dress. She was furious, about to bite back with a lashing retort, but then recalled what Scazzarda had said about treating Wylanda with kindness. “Um, hi, Wylanda,” she said, mustering up her friendliest voice. “I was just going to see my friends.”

“Why?” Wylanda sneered. “Do you have some exciting piece of news that you’re just dying to share with them?”

Miriam nodded, her face lighting up with joy. Wylanda noticed her change of expression. “As a matter of fact, I do have some exciting news, Wylanda.”

An interested expression came over Wylanda’s face. “What?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

“My mom’s having a baby!” Miriam announced.

Wylanda’s mouth flew wide open in shock. “What??”

“I know! I know! It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Miriam danced about happily. “I’ve always wanted a sibling and now I’ll have one! Yay! Praise God!”

Wylanda narrowed her eyes at the mention of God. “Why would God give you a sibling?” she asked in a surly tone.

Miriam’s face flushed red with anger at the rude question, but she decided to be gracious. Pasting a smile on her face, she answered,” Because God loves me!”

“God loves you?” Wylanda sounded genuinely confused. “Why would He love you?”

“Because I’m His daughter and He’s my Father.” Then Miriam stopped dancing and looked solemnly at Wylanda, and with a gentle voice said, “You could be His daughter too, Wylanda, if you would ask Him to take you in.”

Wylanda threw up her hands and rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Miriam, my own father wasn’t even reliable. Why would I ask some strange Galilean carpenter Who lived two thousand years ago to be my Father?”

Miriam frowned, pondering Wylanda’s words. “Wait. Did you just say your own dad wasn’t reliable?”

Wylanda’s eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth, realizing she had just slipped up. “Um, never mind. That was never meant to be revealed to anyone. . .”

Miriam’s eyes filled with compassion. “Oh, Wylanda. You were adopted, weren’t you?”

Wylanda didn’t answer.

“Your biological parents probably did something to you and you were taken from them and sent to an orphanage. Is that right?”

There was silence. Then Wylanda answered faintly, “I never wanted anyone to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were adopted?”

“Because you all come from good homes and I don’t want to be noted as the outcast,” Wylanda snapped. “Okay? My parents left me on the sidewalk when I was born because they didn’t want a girl, for goodness’ sake! My neighbor took me to the orphanage and two years later, I was adopted by Mother and Father Coven. They’ve taken care of me ever since.”

Miriam felt sorry for Wylanda for the first time. “Unfortunately, you’re not alone in that situation. Most kids are adopted, Wylanda.”

Wylanda’s face was taut with bitterness. “If God really loved me, I don’t think He would allow me to go through such a thing as that, would He? Am I some kind of stranger to Him because I was adopted?”

Miriam shook her head. “No. No one is a stranger to God, Wylanda. He made everyone and everything; He knows all their names. He created the sun, moon, stars, planets, galaxies, animals, and everything else you could think of! But He didn’t just create the universe and then sit back to let it run on its own. No, He cared for His creation. He still is caring for it, in fact, and will until the end of the age. Wylanda, God is the most trustworthy Person in existence.”

“I thought God died,” Wylanda said. “He died on the cross many years ago.”

Miriam stoutly nodded her head. “Oh, He died, all right. He died for you and me. He took everyone’s sins on His shoulders and drank every drop of His Father’s wrath so we wouldn’t have to. But He’s not dead anymore,” she proclaimed. “He rose from the grave three days after He was crucified and conquered death and sin!” Her eyes bright, she asked, “Do you believe that, Wylanda?”

Wyladan raised an eyebrow and tapped her forehead thoughtfully, carefully thinking of her words. “I mean. . .yeah, I believe in God. I believe He’s real and He’s divine and that He died on the cross and that He’s three people in one—Father, Son, and Spirit.” She hesitated a moment, as if uncertain of something.

Miriam prodded, “So what do you not believe?”

Wylanda acted a bit startled by the question, but answered, “Well, I don’t believe that God loves everyone like some Christians say he does. I mean, like, what about those with bad backgrounds and incredibly evil pasts? Why in the world would God want anything to do with them? I also do not believe He rose from the dead. If He really is alive, he should be caring for and protecting His creation, and from what I’ve seen, that’s not the case. There’s so much evil in the world and hardly any good, you know. If I were God, I wouldn’t allow anything terrible to happen.”

Miriam nodded, though she was slightly puzzled by Wylanda’s views of the world. “Can you explain why you believe what you do?”

Wylanda scratched her head and looked at her freshly painted fingernails. “Um. . .well, I mean, from what my old public school teachers taught me, the Bible is not a Book to be taken literally. You have to use your brain and decide which parts are reliable and which parts that weren’t mean to be taken literally. . .” He voice trailed off as she noticed Miriam staring at her.

“But Wylanda,” Miriam insisted, spreading out her hands, “if you don’t believe certain parts of the Bible, why believe any part of it?”

Wylanda didn’t know how to answer. “Are you trying to be smart with me?” she angrily demanded.

“No,” Miriam said, shaking her head. “I’m trying to get you to think.” She took a deep breath and rushed on. “You see, Wylanda, the Bible lines up with history and the world today perfectly. Everything is in line with what the Bible says. Prophecies from the Bible have been and are being fulfilled even today.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to believe everything the Bible says,” Wylanda muttered. “Not unless you can prove to me it’s trustworthy.”

Miriam frowned, but pressed on. “Okay, think of this: If one part of the Bible isn’t trustworthy, should any part be trusted?”

Wylanda just looked at her.

“Or think of this: Why would you believe in something that’s not fully trustworthy?”

Wylanda still didn’t reply. She couldn’t answer the young girl’s questions adequately. “I don’t know,” she said finally, “and I don’t care. The point is, I really don’t want anything to do with all that religion. It’s a waste of time.”

Miriam crossed her arms and got right up in Wylanda’s face, causing her to back away a few steps. “Wylanda, I will say this: Christianity is not a religion. Christianity is trusting in God for salvation and asking Him to be your Lord and Savior. Once that happens, He now governs your life. Now religion—that is working your way to salvation through good works.”

Wylanda blinked, nonplussed for a minute, but she snapped back, “Still, I don’t want to answer to Jesus for everything I ever do. If I’m not saved, I don’t have to go to Him all the time and repent of my wrongdoings, nor do I have to bother with being sure to spend time with Him. I’d rather not do that.”

“Everyone’s going to answer to Jesus one day whether they want to or not,” Miriam retorted. “If you’re saved, you go to heaven. If not, you go to hell. It’s as simple as that. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks—God knows each individual person’s heart and knows whether they are saved or not. Don’t think anyone can run from God, because they can’t. Everyone will either go to one of two places—heaven or hell. Your choice.”

Wylanda’s eyes grew wide as she witnessed Miriam—three years younger than herself—boldly proclaiming the truth to her. For some unknown reason, that made Wylanda feel very small and cowardly, but she couldn’t tell why.

\Wylanda opened her mouth, about to speak, but then shut it her and said quietly, “Okay, then. I get that.” She brushed a grasshopper off her dress and straightened a lock of her hair, then looked at the ground. “Um, please tell me, Miriam, how God can want anything to do with evil people.”

Miriam studied the girl, wondering if she truly wanted to know or was just looking for an excuse to mock her. But there was nothing mocking or sarcastic in Wylanda’s looks.

“Everyone is evil, Wylanda,” Miriam explained. “We’re all born sinners. There’s no pick-and-choose method when it comes to who’s evil and who’s not. Romans 3:23 says, ‘For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ All sin and deserve to go to hell.” She sighed heavily and sadly shook her head. “It all goes back to the Garden of Eden. The world was originally a perfect place, where men and God could talk and be together in perfect harmony. But when Eve ate of the fruit from the tree which Go forbade her to eat from, the fellowship between God and man was broken. God hates sin and can’t look upon it.”

“The why didn’t God stop Eve from disobeying?” Wylanda asked.

Miriam shrugged. “He could have, but then Eve would have been a robot, forced to do what God wanted her to.”

“But I thought God wanted us to do right.”

“He does, but He won’t force us to do so,” Miriam said. “He gives us a choice to do what’s right or wrong. And as Christians, we should want to please God and strive to be like Him. That’s not to say we won’t ever mess up, okay, because we will. We’re not perfect. We still have a sin nature. But God is merciful and will forgive us if we go to Him and repent.”

Miriam felt a thrill run through her. She was actually ministering to someone about God! This was possibly the best thing to happen to her next to her conversion.

“Okay, I get it,” Wylanda said softly. “But what about those with awful backgrounds, like mine?”

“God loves those kinds of people too!” The smallest smile worked its way across Miriam’s face. “But even though there are those who have been brutally abused or have messed up, God doesn’t care. He cares nothing about the past, creed, or ethnicity of someone. All He wants is for all to come to Him and be His children.”

Wylanda nodded understandingly. “I get that.” Then she frowned. “But, um, I have another question.”

“Uh-huh?”

“ Why does God have to send us to hell for committing some small sins, such as lying or stealing something? Our sins are small compared to eternity, so why does He judge us so harshly? I mean, I don’t really think the punishment fits the crime.”

Miriam looked off in the distance and chewed her lip, trying to think of a way to explain the answer to Wylanda. “Okay.” She faced Wylanda again. “Think of this scenario: Suppose a heartless murderer took only one minute to strangle a young child, okay?” Seeing Wylanda’s disgusted expression, she hastened to add, “Sorry if this sounds graphic, but bear with me. Suppose it took only a minute to kill this young girl. Now here’s the question: Would you put him in prison for the same amount of time it took to commit the crime?”

Wylanda shook her head. “No.”

“That’s right. Now picture this: Say this same murderer kills the king of Dreamland, and it takes only thirty seconds. Would you put him in prison for that same length of time in which he was able to murder the king?”

Again Wylanda said no.

“But why not?” Miriam inquired innocently.

“Because that’s not serving justice!” Wylanda protested. “A murderer who kills a king deserves to be put in prison for life, not a few seconds! Justice needs to be served, and the only way to obtain justice is for the murderer to serve a punishment proportionate to the crime he committed.”

“That’s correct,” Miriam said. “Time in prison for assaulting someone depends on the status of the person, right? And killing the king would definitely be at the top of the list.”

“But what does this have to do with my question?”

“God is the Ruler of Creation. He is majestic, wonderful, and awesome. He is above every earthly king or emperor. And sinning against Him requires a very heavy price to pay, which is death. We deserve to die, both physically and spiritually. Therefore, Wylanda, God is indeed giving us a just punishment.”

Wylanda folded her arms. “Who taught you all of this, Miriam?”

“My mother!” Miriam sang.

Wylanda looked surprised, then confused, and last of all troubled, but said nothing. She just glanced at Miriam and then walked off without another word. Miriam watched her go, wondering what was going on in that mind of hers. Then the seven-year-old took to her heels and ran off toward the tree house.

 

* * * * *

 

“Guys! Hey, guys!” Cloudy was roused by Miriam’s excited voice and opened her eyes. She had been taking a lovely nap next to Scazzarda in the shade. Now she stretched, got up, and ambled her way over to her friends.

“Oh, Miriam!” Arrow called, waving a paw. “Hi! What did your mom want you for?”

Miriam was practically wriggling with excitement as she plopped down next to Star. She leaned forward, her eyes bright with joy as she said in a stage whisper, “My mom’s having a baby!”

“What!” the children chorused.

“It’s true! My mom’s pregnant!”

“Congratulations,” came a Spanish-accented voice from the top of a nearby tree. Startled, Miriam looked up and saw the knight standing there, his cape drawn about himself. “Having a baby is always exciting. My daughter is having one nerself.”

“You have a daughter?” asked Cloudy. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Miriam thought the knight’s voice seemed a little sad as he said the words, and she wondered why. However, she was too afraid to ask.

Arrow cleared his throat loudly, causing everyone to turn to toward him. H too had sensed the knight’s unhappy mood and wanted to change the subject. “I, for one, absolutely can’t wait for the feast tonight,” he said. “Miss Springtime says we get to stand up and say what we’re thankful for.”

“And I suppose you’re thankful for this bunch of losers,” came an all-too-familiar voice from behind Star. Arrow gasped softly and the knight visibly tensed. Miriam slowly turned her head and saw Wylanda standing there, her brown eyes dark and intimidating.

“Uhhhh. . .” Miriam was a loss for words.

“What do you want?” Sharkell asked coolly. “We’re trying to have a private conversation here.”

“It won’t be so private once you say it at the dinner table tonight.” Wylanda laughed as if she had just heard the funniest joke on the planet. “You’re talking about what you’re thankful for, aren’t you?”

That was Miriam’s chance. “Yes, Wylanda. Why don’t you join us?”

“What?!” Lily roared. “She’s a brat!”

“No way is she sitting with us! She insulted us and called us losers!” Nika chimed in.

“Okay, that is quite. . .” Scazzarda began, but Wylanda cut her off.

“Oh, be quiet, old grandma.” Back to the children. “I wouldn’t join you guys for the world. Besides, why would I? I don’t have anything to be thankful for.”

“Huh?” Cloudy blinked a few times, completely astounded. “But of course you do!”

“Yeah? Like what?” Wylanda smirked. “Tell me, Prophesied One!”

Cloudy’s mind was spinning with all sorts of things Wylanda could be thankful for. “Well, for one, what about your big mansion and your jewels and your fancy dresses?”

Wylanda suddenly acted very uncomfortable. “I. . .No, I-I don’t. . .”

“What’s the matter, Wylanda? Cat got your tongue?” Sniper asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Wylanda bit her lip. “I. . .I meant that those things don’t make me happy,” she rushed to explain.

“I’m not in the least bit surprised,” Eloise muttered under her breath. “If you don’t have God, you’re not gonna be happy with anything.”

“What about your parents?” Cloudy queried. “Aren’t you grateful for them?”

Wylanda answered defiantly, “No, I’m not grateful for them. They’re so fussy and overprotective of me and won’t let me go anywhere without an adult except for school. They’re stupid, religious, holier-than-thou Christians who make me read my Bible and pray with them every day. Every day, they tell me I need to accept Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. I’m sick of it.”

That surprised Cloudy in more ways than one. She had no idea that Wylanda’s parents were Christians.

But Scazzarda was horrified. “Why, Wylanda Coven!” she exclaimed. “How can you say such awful things about your parents? They love you and try so hard to raise you right.”

“What do I care?” Wylanda shot back. “They can love me, but I don’t love them.”

The children were speechless. The knight, feeling anger and sorrow rising in him, suppressed it with all his strength. But Eloise was thoroughly fed up with Wylanda’s verbal abuse. She stood up and shrieked loudly at Wylanda, causing her to recoil. “I’ve had it with you, Wylanda Coven! I will not put up your insults and complaints any longer! You have no clue what it means to love, you spoiled, rotten girl! You’re a huge loser! You make fun of everyone and laugh at others that are less fortunate than you! You make them feel unappreciated and unloved! Well, guess what? If you show hate to others, I’m going to show hate right back to you!”

“Eloise!” Nika cried. “Eloise, what about the Golden R—”

“No!” Eloise yelled at her little sister. She was so enraged she was shaking. “I don’t give a lick about the Golden Rule anymore! If Wylanda wants to spread hate around, I’ll shove it right back in her face!” Turning back to Wylanda, she continued, “You’ve made others feel miserable for far too long, Wylanda! Now I’m gonna make you feel a million times worse! You’re stupid, you’re ugly, you’re an idiot, and I can’t stand being around you! I’m surprised anyone could! You want to know my honest opinion on you? Well, too bad if you don’t, because here it is: You don’t deserve any love! You. . .are. . . hated!”

“Eloise!” Cloudy screamed at the top of her lungs. “Stop it right now!!”

Eloise stopped yelling and looked at her friend, who was staring at her as if she were a crazy person who had escaped a mental institution. Suddenly realizing what she had done, Eloise gasped and sank to the ground, guilt flooding her through. What had she done? Why had she said such terrible things?

The entire crowd had heard the heated speech and were staring, shocked, at Eloise and Wylanda. Even Mrs. Coven was there, her gaze disapproving as she glared at Eloise with contempt. There was no sound but the whooshing of the wind and the rustle of leaves.

Eloise and Wylanda looked at each other for the longest time, but neither one spoke. Wylanda’s look was one of fright and hurt as she stared with wild eyes at the other girl. Eloise knew she had upset Wylanda with her unkind words and needed to apologize for that. She stood up and said softly, “Um, Wylanda, I. . .”

“No!” Wylanda exclaimed, backing away. Her eyes were full of terror. “Don’t-Don’t you dare come near me!”

“But I want to. . .”

“Get away from me!” With those words, Wylanda took off for the house and disappeared among the crowd. Oddly, Mrs. Coven did not try to stop her.

Cloudy, her eyes narrowed, knew that the time had come to have a calm, serious talk with Wylanda. The longer this unrest went on, the worse things would get with her. With these thoughts in her head, Cloudy started off toward the house.

“Cloudy, where are you going?” Arrow called as she started to walk off.

“To talk to Wylanda,” Cloudy replied without turning around.

“What? Are you joking?” Star inquired. “That girl hates you! She wouldn’t listen to you for anything!”

“Well, I’m going to try,” Cloudy said firmly, a determined and fierce glint in her eye. “Lord knows what Wylanda’s going through. I believe He’s calling me to talk to her.”