The Reunion

a novel

Rachael McIntire

©2012 All rights reserved

A Word From The Author...

The Reunion was written in 1982 for the specific benefit of the six home-schooled children in our family.  The purpose was to give them something entertaining and innocent to read, while at the same time reinforcing in their hearts important principles from God’s Word.

The setting may be somewhat dated in comparison with today’s high-tech society, but the truths laid down in the Gospel of Jesus Christ have no time frame.  Thus the story remains relevant.

Some of you parents, or perhaps grandparents, may identify with the incidents woven into this novel as a few of them are based on the author’s own childhood experiences.

It is our prayer that each reader, young or old, will be spiritually enriched as he or she peeks into the lives of the Gladstone family, in The Reunion.

- Rachael McIntire

1

Four-year-old Rebecca, the only child of David and Ruth Gladstone, stood gingerly on her tiptoes peering out of the living room picture window, her sad brown eyes searching through the incessant rainfall for some sign of activity in the neighborhood.  But not even the retired wrestling coach across the street ventured out on a Saturday as soaked as this one.

Rebecca was close to tears as huge as the drops drenching the front window.  She tried hard not to cry nor to press her face against the glass for a better look.  Smudging the pane meant more work for her mother, and even at her young age Rebecca was mindful to think of others.

Her parents were thorough Christians and had taught her the principles of God’s Word from the cradle on.  For that same reason, Rebecca resisted the urge to feel sorry for herself and began instead to hum a little melody she had learned in fellowship the week before.  Humming seemed to quell the loneliness she sometimes felt being an only child and living in a neighborhood essentially devoid of playmates, with the exception of the backyard bully.  Rebecca had just finished the chorus when her mother and daddy joined her in the living room.

“Rebecca,” her daddy began, “what would you think about having a little brother or sister?”

Up and down the little girl jumped, clapping and grinning, so joyous at the possibility that she couldn’t get a word out.

“Hold on, honey,” her daddy interjected gently.  “We just wanted to find out how you would feel.  Only a miracle of the Lord could get us another baby besides you.  You remember we told you that Mommie isn’t well enough to carry any more babies in her tummy, so unless the adoption agency in Baysville has a baby up for adoption, we’ll just have to accept being a family of three.  But since you seem so enthusiastic, Mommie and I will apply right away.”

Rebecca sobered a little when her daddy told her about the complications of getting a new baby.  That evening she sat quietly all through dinner, pondering in her active little mind how nice it would be to have a sister (for she had already decided it would have to be a girl, so that they could play dolls together) and thinking what she could do to help.

Suddenly, a light turned on in her busy brain, and she sprang from her seat with visible inspiration.  “I know what I’ll do, Mommie and Daddy,” she announced excitedly.  “I’ll ask Jesus for a sister.  He can do anything!”

“Yes, He can, sweetheart,” agreed her mother.  “He has promised in His Word that He’ll not withhold any good thing from us, hasn’t He?”

“Yes ma’am,” replied Rebecca thoughtfully.

“So if it’s a good thing,” continued her mother, “I’m sure that He’ll answer ‘yes,’ don’t you think?” Rebecca nodded with understanding beyond her four years.

“Well,” joined Mr. Gladstone, sensing his daughter’s need for reassurance, “suppose we just give over this whole idea to the Lord and you can just tell Jesus what’s on your heart.”

“Oh, yes, Daddy,” answered Rebecca, her eyes glowing with the faith of a child.  The little family of three joined hands at the dinner table.  Talking to Jesus was a way of life to the three Gladstones, and so without formality, Rebecca made known her earnest desire.  “Dear Father, I would like to have a little sister, but only if You want me to have one.  I sure hope You do.  In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”

Mr. Gladstone smiled at Rebecca’s simple prayer, but with gratitude that his little girl was learning to trust the will of God for her own life.  Rebecca then bounded out of her chair and off to her room to play with her dolls and to pretend what it would be like to have a sister.  After she left the table, her parents made plans to visit the adoption agency the next day.

The following afternoon, Rebecca was popping up and down at the picture window waiting anxiously for her daddy to come home from work.  He was getting off early in order to take her and her mother to the agency.

“He’s here, Mommie,” called Rebecca happily, when she spied his car.  Mrs. Gladstone put on her jacket and then helped Rebecca into hers between jumps.  Then they ran out to the car and the family rode cheerily to the agency.

Since Rebecca couldn’t jump up and down in the back seat of the car, she contented herself with singing her heart out all the way there.  The fifteen minute drive seemed more like an hour to the little girl, so anxious was she to see if Jesus had a little sister for her.  Mr. Gladstone finally pulled into the office parking lot.

Once inside, Rebecca tried to be patient as her parents waited to be called in for the appointment.  Finally, a kind-looking white-haired lady came out and said, “You must be the Gladstones.  I’m Mrs. Givens.  Won’t you come into my office?”

Rebecca popped up characteristically, but remembering her manners, tried to walk quietly beside her mother and daddy into the lady’s office.  Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone and Rebecca listened intently while Mrs. Givens laid out the facts as gently and clearly as she could.

“You are fortunate in one respect,” said Mrs. Givens.  “You live in a small town, and the list of families wanting to adopt is relatively small.  On the other hand, the number of babies available in your area is equally small.  The fact is, at the moment, we have none.  But may I assure you that we will put your name on the list immediately.  There are two families ahead of you waiting to adopt, but we will notify you if and when a baby becomes available.”

Little Rebecca’s heart sank.  She tried not to cry in front of Mrs. Givens, but she could hardly hold back her dismay as she followed her mother solemnly out of the office.  When they got to the car, Rebecca asked tearfully with only a spark of hope, “Mommie, does that mean that God doesn’t want me to have a sister?”

“Oh no, honey,” her mother replied with a hug.  “We’ll just have to wait on the Lord.  He can do anything, remember? Meanwhile, let’s just settle in to being our happy little family and thank God that he gave us each other.”  Rebecca dried her tears with a Kleenex and reached over to hug her mother.

“I’m glad Jesus gave me a mommie,” she offered gratefully, “and a daddy too,” she added as she pecked her father on the cheek.

Mr. Gladstone decided to stop for lunch at Burger Haven to cheer everybody up.  Strawberry sundaes always brought a smile to little Rebecca’s face, so she was allowed to have dessert as a special treat.

That afternoon, Mrs. Gladstone played a game with her little girl, trying to help cushion the disappointment of the trip to the adoption agency.  She knew now just how desperately her only child wanted a sister.

Rebecca went to bed that night lost in those very thoughts.  She finally fell asleep clutching Molly, her favorite doll, and woke early the next morning to the sound of a dove cooing on her window sill.  She hopped up, put on her house shoes and ran to the kitchen where Mrs. Gladstone was busily frying bacon and eggs, her daughter’s favorite breakfast.

“Good morning, my little robin.  Would you put on your house coat and peek out the front door to see if the paper is on the porch?” asked her mother.

Rebecca obeyed with her usual quickness.  She cracked the door a little and saw what seemed to be a basket on the front porch.  She opened the door further to get a better look.

It was then that she noticed a tiny bundle cozily nestled in a wicker basket, the baby's enormous blue eyes peeking through the folds of its blanket into the equally blue skies of the morning.  Rebecca began once again bouncing up and down, clapping her hands together and shouting, “Mommie, she’s here, she’s here!”

Mrs. Gladstone could not imagine what on earth was happening.  But upon running from the kitchen, she heard Rebecca add, “Jesus has sent me my little sister!” Mrs. Gladstone reached the door, and her eyes grew bigger than her daughter’s as she too beheld the precious baby.

She opened the screen and knelt down beside the basket.  Around the baby’s tiny arm was a string with a note attached. It read, “I chose your house for the place to leave my baby because it looked so clean and inviting.  I haven’t the heart to hand her over to an agency.  I do not live in this state, so don’t try to find me.  I just want to be free.  The baby was born on April 16 and her name is Sandy, but you can call her what you want – she’s yours.”

Rebecca had now joined her mother on the porch with a thousand questions in one breath.  “It is a girl, isn’t it, Mommie?  Did Jesus just drop her out of heaven?  Can she sleep with me in my room? What shall we call her?  Oh, Mommie, I’m so happy!”

Mrs. Gladstone silently lifted the little ark and brought the now sleeping bundle into the house.  She set the basket down on the rug, and then drew Rebecca into her lap on the couch.  “Rebecca, we can’t keep this baby.  We’ll have to turn her over to the adoption agency.  They’ll have to find her mother or else decide who gets her.  I’m sorry, honey.”

“Oh, Mommie, can’t we just keep her a little while?  She’s so sweet.  I love her already.”

“I’ll tell you what,” suggested Mrs. Gladstone.  “You babysit for me while I call the adoption agency.”  Rebecca beamed with delight at being given this responsibility and sat down eagerly beside the basket.

She reached up to touch the baby’s palm, and the child grabbed her finger and held it tight.  “Oh look, Mommie, she likes me,” marveled Rebecca.  But Mrs. Gladstone was already on the phone in the bedroom.  Rebecca sat contentedly with her chubby finger in the baby’s grasp.  Mrs. Gladstone soon returned with a very pleasant surprise for Rebecca.

“Rebecca, Mrs. Givens said that we must bring the baby in right away.”  Her little daughter nodded solemnly.  “But, she also said that after identification processes are in motion, we can keep the baby in our home temporarily until they find a home for her or else find her mother.”

“Oh, Mommie, how wonderful!” Rebecca jumped up, and the baby woke with a start.  She looked up at Rebecca and then at Mrs. Gladstone, smiled, and, already feeling secure, dropped back off to sleep.

Rebecca tried to whisper her squeals of excitement.  “Even if we only have her for a little while, Mommie, won’t it be fun?” she exclaimed.  Mrs. Gladstone nodded enthusiastically and ran to call her husband who was at work.

Meanwhile, Rebecca stood in the middle of the living room floor and held a little praise service all by herself.  “Thank You, Lord.  I just want to thank You…,”  she sang with all her heart.

That night was the most thrilling of Rebecca’s life.  Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone were more than exuberant themselves, especially because this sudden turn of events had brought their little girl so much joy.

Mrs. Gladstone was hesitant even to think that maybe the Lord would work it out for them to keep the baby permanently, so she brushed the thoughts aside and busied herself cleaning up Rebecca’s baby bed, and getting baby blankets, clothes, and toys out of storage.  She had to go shopping for formula and disposable diapers, so Rebecca volunteered to “babysit,” with her daddy’s help.

To Rebecca’s chagrin, Mr. Gladstone set up the baby bed in the master bedroom instead of hers, but he explained gently that the baby might need attention during the night, and that Mommie and Daddy would need to listen out for her.  Rebecca was a little disappointed but so excited over even having the baby in the house, she soon forgot.

That night was a long one for Rebecca.  It was like waiting for Christmas.  Daylight finally came and Rebecca jumped out of bed at the baby’s first cry.

Her parents were already up, and Mrs. Gladstone was changing the baby when Rebecca knocked on their door.  “Come in,” her mother laughed, “although I have no idea who it could possibly be!” Rebecca bounded over to the crib, stood on tiptoes, and peeked again at the newest object of her affection.

The weeks rolled by, and Rebecca blossomed in the company of her little foster sister.  Mrs. Givens called Mrs. Gladstone from the adoption agency to give her progress reports on any information they could find.  So far, they had given up on locating the mother of the baby and were now ready to process applications of families waiting for babies.

One note of hope – the first family on the list did not want the child without having any information about the natural parents.  So that left one other family ahead of the Gladstones.

Finally, the call came that changed the lives of the whole Gladstone household.  Mrs. Givens called to say that the other family had been debating and debating, because they had really wanted a boy.  Their final decision was – not to adopt.

“Praise the Lord!” exclaimed Mrs. Gladstone when she heard the news, for the first time letting her real feelings be shown.  She ran to share the news with her husband and her daughter, who were in the living room playing with the baby.

“You have a new little girl, honey, and Rebecca, you have a new sister.  Mrs. Givens says we can sign the papers first thing tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Gladstone jumped up jubilantly and swung his equally jubilant wife.  Then he picked up Rebecca and danced her around and around the room.

Finally, he picked up his new daughter and held her high in the air.  With a grateful heart he turned his eyes upward.  “Thank you Jesus for giving us our baby,” he prayed aloud.

Mrs. Gladstone and Rebecca reverently joined in the moment of thanksgiving, and even the baby seemed to coo with contentment.

Thus, little Sarah, for so they named her, came to be a member of the Gladstone family.

2

Two-hundred miles away, the Wellingtons, a couple who had no children of their own, toasted their good fortune over a glass of champagne.  They too, had been waiting for a child and their number had “luckily” come up.

The story of their adopted baby was remarkably similar to that of the Gladstones, even though neither family had knowledge of the other’s circumstances.  The Wellingtons’ little one had been left on a doorstep too, with a note similar to the one given the Gladstones, only it read, “Her name is Mandy.”

The house at which Mandy’s basket had been left was already brimming with noisy children whose harried mother was only too glad to turn the baby over immediately to the local adoption agency.

The Wellingtons, however, were overjoyed to get Mandy, whom they renamed Amanda.  At last they had a child to fill up their empty lives.

The couple was very wealthy, so wealthy that they couldn’t think of anything else to buy.  Now,

at least for a little while, they could focus their attentions on things for Amanda.  And for this little girl, who had finally given their life some purpose, they spared no expense in fulfilling their every whim for her.

At the age of three months Amanda was already the owner of a newborn Arabian colt, the entire family of Madame Alexander’s Little Women dolls, a canopied bed with matching spread, curtains and accessories, and a bedroom as large as the first floor of most homes, filled with every toy one could imagine.

The only thing missing from the Wellington’s lavish estate was the love of Jesus.  And so Amanda was destined from the beginning to be a receiver of things instead of the love she so desperately needed.

When the newness of having a little child to enrich their lives had worn off, the Wellingtons, already restless for some new distraction, began once again to become absorbed in their high society lives and champagne parties.  Amanda was given the best full-time nursemaid money could buy in order to relieve Mrs. Wellington of the responsibility of raising her.

The nursemaid, Emily, highly motivated by a generous salary, was very diligent in attending to Amanda’s needs and wants, and thus in this atmosphere did the lonely little rich girl begin her life as Amanda Wellington.

3

Meanwhile, the Gladstone household, through much love, prayer, and discipline watched joyfully as Sarah along with her older sister, Rebecca, grew up in a home where Jesus was Lord.

Sarah looked so much like Rebecca, who herself was a true reflection of her parents, that as the years passed, it was hard to remember that she had come to them in a basket.  Many people commented on how they all four looked alike – a fact which the Gladstones attributed to being kindred spirits in the family of God.

Four years had passed since Sarah had joined the family, and Rebecca was no longer a jumping jack.  At the age of eight, she was growing into quite a little princess, and her excitable little personality had begun to mature after baby Sarah had appeared on the scene.

Mrs. Gladstone watched with satisfaction as her girls entertained themselves with Molly and Cassandra, their dolls.  One day the girls were swinging their dolls in the backyard tire swing.  Leaning over the fence to the point of breaking it was Julie Greene, eyeing with envy the two little girls in their fun.

“Hello, sissies!” she taunted.  “Can’t come outa’ your yard, huh? Scaredy-cats!”

The girls turned and glanced briefly at Julie; then they returned to their play.  Upset that she couldn’t get a rise out of them, Julie decided that she would try a special bit of information she’d been saving up ever since she heard her mother whispering with a neighbor.  “Hey, little Sary, I hear you were born in a basket… is that true?”

At that remark, Rebecca wheeled around and faced Julie with firmness.  She was angry, but in her heart she knew she could not destroy the witness her parents had so patiently tried to build in the neighborhood.  Julie grinned with satisfaction to see that she had at least gotten some reaction, but was taken aback at Rebecca’s quiet response.

“Julie, you need Jesus in your heart.”  Then Rebecca grabbed her little sister’s hand and said, “Come on, Sarah, let’s go in and bake some pretend cookies.”  Sarah obediently followed, her child’s mind trying to sort out what “born in a basket” might mean.

Inside the house, Rebecca looked for an opportunity to talk to her mother alone.  “Mommie,” she whispered, while Sarah was singing to Cassandra in the next room, “Julie Greene asked Sarah if she was born in a basket.”

Mrs. Gladstone cringed at this bit of persecution directed at her younger daughter.  But without hesitation she replied, “We must bless Julie Greene, Rebecca.  I’ll take care of what she said to Sarah.  Just rest yourself about it, honey.”

When Mr. Gladstone got home that evening, his wife motioned him into the bedroom and repeated the incident Rebecca had related to her.  “David, it’s hard to believe that little neighbor girl could be so cruel, but then I know the human heart is capable of anything,” she sighed.

“We’ll just have to ask the Lord to show us the best way to explain all this to Sarah,” said her husband.  “Did she seem to pick up on it?”

“I’m afraid so,” replied Ruth.  “She’s spent most of the afternoon rocking Cassandra and staring out of the window.”

Grasping Ruth’s hand, David prayed in earnest, “Father, please give us wisdom how to comfort our little girl, in Jesus’ Name.”

That night at supper, Mr. Gladstone announced, “I have a very special story to tell tonight about a very special baby.  So let’s eat quickly, children.  We’ll help Mommie with the dishes after our story time.”

Sarah’s ears perked up.  She loved stories, even more than toys, and the anticipation of it pulled her out of her own thoughts somewhat.  She popped up and down through the rest of the evening meal, prompting Mrs. Gladstone to label her Rebecca II and to tell her that if she kept drinking her milk so excitedly, she’d turn it into a milkshake.  Rebecca II giggled at that and began dutifully to finish her supper.

The living room of the Gladstone home was so warm and inviting that the children often played in there, when they had permission, just so they could enjoy the room, as well as the close proximity of their parents.  Supper done, the children now snuggled close to Daddy and waited eagerly for the story to begin.

“Many years ago,” Mr. Gladstone began, “before you or I or Mommie were born, and even many years before Jesus was born, there lived a woman named Jochabed who faced a very serious dilemma.  The Pharaoh of Egypt was out to kill all the baby boys of Israel, and Jochabed’s three-month-old son was getting too big for her to hide.

“But the Lord God of Israel was with the young mother and gave her wisdom as to what she could do to preserve the little boy’s life.  She made a sturdy basket and placed her precious son in it.  Then she set the basket afloat in the river Nile, totally trusting in God that this act would somehow save her child.”

Mr. Gladstone paused, realizing that Rebecca and Sarah were all too familiar with the story of Moses and were a little let down that this was not a new story that they were hearing.  “Be patient, little ones, for there’s more to this story than you’ve heard before.

“Now the princess, Pharaoh’s daughter, when she found the baby, named him Moses, because she drew him out of the water.  She loved him as her very own son, giving him the best upbringing she could, in the palace of the very Pharaoh who had wanted to kill all the Israelite children.  Now, isn’t that a strange way for God to save a child?”

The children agreed, wondering what else their daddy was thinking of.  “Well,” he continued, “Moses was not the only baby whom God had put in a basket to save his life.  We have among our little family here tonight another very special baby – Sarah Elizabeth Gladstone.

“Sarah, we had been waiting for God’s perfect timing to tell you about the wonderful miracle the Lord performed in bringing you to us, and since that naughty neighbor, Julie, tried to ruin our surprise, I’d like to share it with you from God’s point of view.  Would you like to hear the story of you?” asked Mr. Gladstone, giving his little four-year-old a gentle hug.

“Oh, yes sir, I’d like that very much.  I didn’t even know I had a story.”  Sarah now listened wide-eyed as her daddy explained how they had prayed about a sister or brother for Rebecca.

“I only wanted a sister,” Rebecca happily interjected.

“Anyway, we knew that Mommie was not well enough to carry a baby in her tummy herself, so we were in great need of a miracle.”  Mr. Gladstone went on to explain as simply as he could about the adoption agency.  “And then, the very next day, we got the surprise of our lives.  God brought you right to our door step...  just like Moses.  And just like that, we became a family of four.”

Daddy went on to tell Sarah that the lady who had brought her into the world did not know Jesus.  “And so, instead of raising you in a home where she didn’t feel able to give you the love and care you needed, she decided to leave you with us.”

“So that’s what Julie meant when she said I was born in a basket.  Boy, if she only knew the real story.  I guess I really am a miracle, huh Mommie?” asked Sarah appreciatively.

“Yes, sweetheart,” replied her mother through grateful tears.  Reliving the story could not help but bring forth spontaneous thanksgiving to God from each member of the family.  Then they paused and took a moment to bless their enemy, Julie Greene.  Afterward, Sarah reached up and tugged her daddy’s sleeve.

“Daddy, could we pray for the lady who gave me to you? I would like for her to know Jesus.”

“Of course, Sarah.  Perhaps the Lord will use our family somehow to bring your natural mother to the Lord,” replied her daddy.  The four Gladstones then joined hands and prayed fervently for the unknown soul.

Sarah was much comforted by the Holy Spirit in the days following the “telling of her story.”  In the Gladstone home, the focus was so much on Jesus and the family of God, that there was no real period of adjustment or emotional upheaval that might be found in other homes where a child has just learned of his adoption.  But then, that was just one more fringe benefit in being a child of the King.

Sarah had asked Jesus into her heart earlier that year, and so she was already very secure in His love.  The story of Amanda Wellington was a very different story indeed.

4

Four-year-old Amanda was a very lonely little girl.  If it had not been for Emily, her faithful nursemaid, Amanda would literally have had no one to talk to.  The Wellingtons lived on an enormous estate with no neighboring children close enough to play with.  When her parents were not at bridge parties or committee meetings, they were off to Europe or on a cruise in the Caribbean.  The gifts they brought Amanda upon their return from various parts of the world did nothing to ease her loneliness or her need for affection.

As the years passed, Amanda grew to be a very shy, pensive little girl.  The only bright spot in her life was the time she spent at the piano her mother and father had given her for her fourth birthday.

Nursemaid Emily didn’t know much about music, but she taught Amanda all she knew, and Amanda would sit for hours playing simple tunes to amuse herself.  Emily informed Mr. and Mrs. Wellington of Amanda’s interest in music and immediately the best private piano teacher in the city was employed to give their daughter lessons.

As Amanda grew older, she lost herself in her music, much like her adoptive parents lost themselves in whatever distractions money could buy.  Amanda had never heard the name of Jesus in her home, even once.  Christmas to her was Santa Claus, Easter – a chocolate bunny and colored eggs.  Once when the chauffeur was driving her and her mother shopping, they passed a huge, beautiful stained glass window with a picture of Jesus holding a little lamb.  “Who is that, Mother?” Amanda asked with childish curiosity.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” her mother replied without even bothering to see in what direction Amanda was pointing.  Amanda craned her neck as their limousine passed the building housing the beautiful window, and she peered intently for as long as she could into the kindest eyes she had ever seen.  And that, sad to say, was the only glimpse of Jesus Amanda ever knew as a child.

5

In the city of Baysville, Sarah and her big and “most favoritest” sister were growing up in a home overflowing with the love of Jesus.  The girls had learned much about right and wrong through the teaching of their parents and occasionally the hard way through a well-deserved spanking.

But both Rebecca and Sarah were learning to walk in the light of their sins and to confess specific wrong doings.  Thus each began to nurture a vital and personal relationship with the Lord, a fact which brought much pleasure to their parents as well as to their Heavenly Father.

Life was not always easy for the girls, even in their protected atmosphere.  Although they attended a Christian school in a nearby community, many of the children who attended were nonetheless uncomfortable around Rebecca and Sarah because of their unusual lifestyle.

Just the simple fact that the Gladstone girls did not have a television, caused any child who had just discovered that interesting bit of information to stare with his or her mouth wide open in utter disbelief. But these circumstances gave the two sisters much needed opportunities to make a stand for Jesus, and they tried to speak with courage for Him whenever approached.

Then, at home in the neighborhood, was the ever-present troublemaker, Julie Greene.  Shortly after the incident in which she had tried to taunt Sarah about being born in a basket, Julie caught her again outside by herself in the sandbox.

Rebecca had run in the house to ask her mother for a spoon.  Julie saw her chance and hollered, “Hey, basket baby! How did it feel to be born in a basket?”

Sarah turned and with a smile from ear to ear replied innocently, “Just wonderful, Julie.  I’m a miracle of Jesus, you know.”  Then she turned back to her sandbox.

Recalling the story made Sarah so happy, she began to hum away.  Julie was left once again leaning over the fence with her mouth agape, but with nothing to say.

Sarah shared the incident with the family at prayer time, glad that she had been able to give a small testimony to Jesus.  That night, the Gladstone family prayed again for Julie.  Mrs. Gladstone added with concern, “Lord, thank you for planting a little seed in Julie’s heart.  Would you make her vulnerable to hear our lives? In Jesus’ Name.  Amen.”

“Amen,” they all chorused.

Four years later, that specific prayer was answered far beyond the highest hopes of any member of the Gladstone family.  It was winter, and Sarah and Rebecca were sledding in their backyard.  A fence separated them from the creek behind their property.  Twelve-year-old Rebecca had just taken her turn from the top of the hill to the fence when she heard an all-too-familiar voice calling her from the direction of the creek.  It was Julie, of course.

“If you two sticks-in-the-mud didn’t stay in your yard all the time, you could have some real fun,” Julie shouted.  “Watch me!” With that, she proceeded to step out onto the ice covered creek and to slide across on her boots to the other side.

Rebecca did not normally comment on anything Julie did, but she felt compelled to warn her neighbor, so she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out in Julie’s direction, “Mother says that creek is really deep, Julie.  You shouldn’t be on it.”

“Hogwash!” Julie returned rebelliously.  “She’s not my mother, and I’ll do exactly as I….”  Before Julie could finish her sentence, the thin ice upon which she was standing broke through under her boots, and she dropped suddenly into the middle of the creek.  She screamed with fear as the icy cold water engulfed her body.

No time to waste.  Rebecca shouted up the hill, “Sarah, get Mother – quick!” Sarah scurried into the house and out came Mrs. Gladstone in just her dress and house shoes bounding down the hill in the snow towards Rebecca, who was already making her way over the fence.  Rebecca tried to encourage Julie to hold on, that help was coming, but Julie was so panicky that her head had dipped again beneath the surface of the water.

Mrs. Gladstone joined her daughter in a flash and with a cry to Jesus for wisdom, instructed Rebecca, “Lie down on the ice facing me.  Hold on to my arms tightly and tell Julie to grab your legs.  Don’t let go whatever you do.”  Rebecca obeyed immediately.

Between Mrs. Gladstone and Rebecca hollering directions to the drowning child, Julie reached desperately for Rebecca’s legs.  Mrs. Gladstone began to pull her daughter, and the angels must have held on to Mrs. Gladstone, for as frail as she was, both her daughter and Julie were brought safely to the edge of the creek in a matter of seconds.

The first thing Julie saw when she opened her eyes on the bank of the creek was an ashen-faced little Sarah standing over her with obvious concern, “Oh, Julie, are you all right?  Please, Jesus, make her all right.”

“Give me your coat, Sarah,” her mother said gently.  “Now run to the house and get a blanket.”  Sarah charged up the hill as fast as her little legs could carry her and returned just as swiftly with the blanket.

Mrs. Gladstone had put Sarah’s coat over Julie’s body and was holding her as closely as she could to herself for additional warmth.  She took the blanket from Sarah and wrapped it over Julie’s shoulders and back.  “Rebecca, do you think you can help me get Julie up the hill?”

“Yes ma’am,” replied Rebecca, who was herself shaking from being cold and wet.  So with Julie leaning between the two of them, Rebecca and her mother managed to get the whimpering child up the hill and into their house.

They had started toward Julie’s house initially, but Julie indicated between catches of breath that no one was home, so they climbed the fence by some miracle of the Lord and trudged up the hill towards home.  Once inside, Mrs. Gladstone handed out orders to the girls, who responded quickly to every instruction.

“Rebecca, get out of those clothes and into some dry ones.  Sarah, put some water on to boil and make Julie a cup of hot cocoa.”  Mrs. Gladstone then with her hands lovingly around Julie’s shoulders directed the child to her own room.  “Now you get out of those clothes as fast as you can and put on my robe.  I’ll go get something dry of Rebecca’s for you to wear.”

Julie’s rebellion melted amidst the love and concern of this woman who was not even her mother.  It made her feel secure to be told what to do, and even more secure to obey.

Mrs. Gladstone soon returned with one of Rebecca’s nicest matching shirt and slack sets, and some pretty wool knee socks.  She told Julie to get dressed and to come in the living room when she was ready.

Julie emerged from the bedroom in five minutes and sheepishly tiptoed into the living room.  Now that the emergency was over, Mrs. Gladstone relaxed the urgent tone in her voice.  “Are you warm enough now, honey?” she asked Julie.

“Yes… ma’am,” Julie whispered meekly.  (She had never said “yes, ma’am” to anyone in her life, but she had heard the Gladstone children say it enough to know what was respectful.)

“If you’ll just sit here in front of the fire, we’ll dry your hair, give you a cup of hot cocoa, and you’ll be good as new,” Mrs. Gladstone assured her.  Julie submitted gratefully to every ounce of attention bestowed on her.  She even managed a quiet “thank you” to Sarah, when she had brought in the cocoa.

“What time does your mother get home from work, Julie?” inquired Mrs. Gladstone.

“Not till after 4:30,” answered Julie, somewhat dreading the hour when her mother would return to discover her daughter’s life had been saved by those “crazy Christians,” as she had often referred to them.

“Well, perhaps you girls could play a game together this afternoon, Monopoly or something.  Would you like that, Julie?”

“Yes ma’am, that would be very nice,” Julie replied.  The Gladstone’s little neighbor was a different child that afternoon.  She basked in the warmth of Jesus’ love in that home and saw it glowing in every face.

Neither Rebecca nor Sarah brought up her mischief at being on the creek in the first place.  They just treated her like a special, invited guest. The afternoon was over too soon to suit Julie or the other girls for that matter.  They rather enjoyed seeing the change in Julie – even if it might be only temporary.

When Mrs. Gladstone heard Mrs. Greene pull into her driveway, she called her on the phone and told her briefly what had happened.  Mrs. Greene rushed right over and was somewhat astonished to see her troublesome daughter playing peaceably on the Gladstone living room floor.

Julie’s beaming smile turned immediately to gloom when she spied her mother standing in the hallway.  Julie got up slowly and went over to her mother with her eyes glued to the floor and awaited the impatient rebuke she knew from experience would be forthcoming.

But Mrs. Greene, touched herself by the concern of these folks whom she had scorned in her heart, reached out and put her arm tightly about her little girl.  Julie, who was unaccustomed to any open show of affection from her mother, blurted out repentantly, “I’m sorry, Mom.  The Gladstones saved my life.  I was very bad.”

“Come on, honey, let’s go home,” whispered Mrs. Greene, her voice choked with tears.  And turning to Mrs. Gladstone she added, “How can I thank you?”

“Just thank God, Mrs. Greene.  It was He alone Who saved your daughter.  He loves you both very much.”

“I can see that now,” offered Mrs. Greene simply, and taking Julie’s hand, the two left the Gladstone home rejoicing.

That night was one of true celebration at the Gladstone house.  Much thanksgiving was offered for answered prayer as well as for the saving of Julie’s life.  And in a personal sense, the family thanked Jesus for revealing a little bit of His Purpose in their lives as a family in their neighborhood.

6

It was raining in Bridgetown, the city in which the Wellingtons lived.  Huge bolts of lightning and ear-splitting thunder shook the windows of the large main house owned by the Wellington family for several generations.

Amanda was already in bed when the storm began but was awakened by a flash of lightning in her room.  Emily was on vacation, a thought which terrified little eight-year-old Amanda.  Emily hadn’t minded whenever Amanda had slipped into her room and gotten up into her bed at the onset of a storm.  But tonight the frightened little girl tried to hide under the covers of her own bed.  Still her ears could not escape the awful thunder.

She finally became so fearful that she grabbed her teddy bear and ran in terror down the huge hall and around the corner to her parents’ room.  Knowing that they would think her foolish and probably send her back to bed, Amanda stopped short of entering their room, even though the door was slightly ajar.  She huddled next to the wall just outside the door, trying to gain at least some comfort from the knowledge that her parents were nearby.  She just sat there shaking and very afraid, waiting for the lightning and thunder to subside.

Her parents were talking, but the thunder was so loud that she couldn’t distinguish their words at first. Then it seemed that the storm had stopped.

Amanda decided to wait a few more minutes just to make sure, when she heard her mother say, “We’ll have to tell her, Charles.  Suppose she goes off to boarding school and hears second-hand that she’s adopted.  And we’ve got to send her to St. Catherine’s.  Emily is getting married, and there will be no one to take care of her.  I don’t think she’d respond to a new governess.  Besides, we’re gone so much of the year, I really hate to leave the house open just for her anyway.”

Amanda had been an avid reader since she was four years old.  She didn’t need anyone to tell her what the word adopted meant.  Many of the heroines of the children’s books she had read had suffered the same plight.  Her mind was racing with woeful thoughts.  Emily was leaving… Mother and Daddy were sending her away to a boarding school… and the most hurtful thought of all – Mother saying, “I hate to leave the house open just for her.”

The burden was so great, the little girl didn’t know what to do.  She ran back to her room and flooded her bed with tears.  “Mother and Daddy don’t want me.  I have no home… no real parents.”  She sobbed until she finally fell asleep.

But Jesus had not forgotten this little lamb.  In Amanda’s dreams, the man in the stained glass window which she had seen on her shopping trip was smiling with pity at the little girl; and then in the next scene, He was no longer holding the lamb, He was holding her, Amanda.

She snuggled securely in his huge arms as He whispered comfortingly, “I love you, Amanda… I love you.”  When she awoke in the morning, her eyes were swollen from crying, but Amanda felt somehow a sense of belonging.

Then she remembered her lovely dream, a dream which would carry her through this time of despair with a precious seed of hope.

7

Sarah tried to keep step with Rebecca’s lengthy stride as the two hurried to the bus stop.  This was the first day of the new school year for students at Christian Academy.  Both were anxious to get back after their long summer break, but at the same time a little concerned at what the year might hold for each of them.

Sarah was entering third grade, and Rebecca, the seventh.  While Sarah’s apprehensions centered around having to learn “real writing” and multiplication, Rebecca, who had mastered the basics and always did well with little effort, was more absorbed with thoughts about which teacher she would get and about what her classmates would be like.

The longer Rebecca had been at the academy, the more the students had become familiar with her Christian convictions, and she found herself lonely much of the time.  It was sort of ironic to be in a Christian school and to be made fun of for one’s beliefs.  But Rebecca tried to remember her mother’s encouraging words to her, “Wouldn’t you rather learn to partake of Jesus’ sufferings in this atmosphere, honey, than in a public school where Christianity is totally squelched?”

“Yes ma’am,” Rebecca had quickly agreed, and her gratitude increased that day for the school in which the Lord had placed her.

The first day of school turned out pleasantly for both girls.  Sarah liked her teacher, and that seemed to relax her fears immediately about the new things she would have to learn during the school year.

Rebecca had made a friend, Meg Caldwell.  The two girls had met in homeroom during “greeting time” and had discovered to their delight that they had both History and Language Arts together.

Rebecca sang all the way home on the bus that afternoon.  At home Sarah was her best friend as well as her sister, but at school they were four grades apart and seldom saw one another.  Now Rebecca would have someone to talk to, and to keep her company in the lonely cafeteria.

The Gladstone children got off the bus and started the block’s walk to their house.  Sarah was chattering happily about her new teacher, but Rebecca was busy reliving homeroom time.

“I’m Rebecca Gladstone,” she had introduced herself cautiously.  “What’s your name?”

“Meg Caldwell,” the girl replied with a smile.  “Aren’t you the girl without a t.v.?” she added disarmingly.

“Why, yes, I guess I am,” Rebecca had answered, her hopes for having a new friend falling to the floor.

“I thought so,” Meg went on to say.  “We have a t.v., but we only watch it for special Christian features, and those are getting so scarce I’ve almost forgotten which room the t.v. is in.”

Rebecca laughed.  Then Meg joined in too.  “Anyway, I want you to know I respect you for speaking up about what you believe.  I’m a Christian too, but I’m afraid I haven’t got that kind of courage.  Say, when’s your lunch period?” asked Meg, changing the subject.  Rebecca pulled out her new schedule.

“12:00 to 12:30,” read Rebecca.

“Hey, me too.  Want to eat lunch together?”

“Yes,” answered Rebecca gladly.  The girls had gone on to compare schedules and to talk about other things that twelve-year-olds find interesting.

“Hey, Rebecca, where are you?” shouted Sarah, waving her little hand dramatically in front of Rebecca’s blank face.

“Oh, sorry, Sarah, I was just day dreaming, I guess.”

That night, the supper table was charged with excitement, both sisters talking at the same time about the adventures of the day.  “Hold on,” said Mr. Gladstone, raising his hand like a stop sign.  “We each have two ears, but only one brain… so please, one at a time!”  The girls giggled at Daddy’s corny little joke, but got his point.

“Go ahead, Sarah,” offered her sister generously.  “I can wait.”  Rebecca and Sarah both knew that their parents always had time to hear anything that was important to their daughters.  So Rebecca could wait patiently, knowing that she'd get her turn.

8

Amanda Wellington seldom got a turn.  She rarely ate with her parents, and even then they seemed too distracted themselves to listen to anything she might say.  So when her parents told her about sending her to boarding school, Amanda (having already thought it through the day after the storm) responded favorably.  Perhaps she could at least make some friends there who would be more than just classmates.

The school she had been attending up until now had offered her some entertaining respite from boredom at home, but the many hours not spent at school were very long and lonely.  If it had not been for her piano lessons and practice, Amanda would have had nothing to do that she really enjoyed.

Because she was so starved for attention, and because she had an unusual talent for the piano, Amanda worked really hard to please her teacher.  She advanced at an unusual pace and already played far better than an eight-year-old could be expected to play.  She thrived off of her teacher’s praise.  Once Mrs. Castleberry had told her, “Amanda, you really have a wonderful talent.  You could go places with it if you keep working.”

Amanda didn’t know exactly what her teacher meant by “go places,” but she knew it sounded like something she wanted, and so she stayed highly motivated to learn all she could.

Perhaps boarding school would be a way of “going places,” Amanda mused to herself.  Her parents had told her that the school was sort of far away, but that she could fly home for Christmas.  It was a girls’ school for students ages eight to eighteen and had everything any young lady could want.  “A piano too?” Amanda asked.

“Oh yes,” her mother had assured her, “and the finest teachers in the country.”  Amanda was able to smile a little then.  At least she would never be totally alone if she had a piano.  So it was settled.

Her mother took her shopping the next day for clothes for the upcoming school year.  Amanda followed her mother disinterestedly from shop to shop.  She had had so much of everything that new clothes meant nothing to her.  One day out of sheer boredom she had counted the shoes in her spacious closet… forty pairs! Now what could one eight-year-old do with forty pairs of shoes?

Autumn could not come quickly enough for Amanda, because that season signaled the time when she would be off to St. Catherine’s.  Mr. and Mrs. Wellington could not work it into their schedules to escort their daughter even by plane, so Amanda was forced to take her first plane ride across the country alone.

Her mother had ridden with her to the airport, and had even kissed her good-bye on the top of her head before her daughter joined the others to board the plane.  Amanda knew then that she would have no trouble being homesick… she had no real home to be homesick about, and her mother’s rare attempt at affection had only made her feel hollow inside.

Miss Longworth, the headmistress at St. Catherine’s, was scheduled to pick Amanda up at the airport.  She was kind to the little girl, partly because it was her nature, and partly because she was familiar with Amanda’s background and realized her potential as an asset to the school, both financially and academically.

Thus, she did her best to make Amanda feel welcome at St. Catherine’s.  Whatever Miss Longworth’s motives were, Amanda was glad to be noticed and felt quite comfortable with the headmistress, even though the drive to the school from the airport was ten miles long.  Amanda smiled and even laughed once with Miss Longworth, something she had never done in the presence of her parents.

On the way to the school, Amanda found out that she would be having a roommate, a fact for which she was secretly grateful.  She had never shared a room with anyone except her dolls.  Thus, this introduction to her new “home” met a real need in the life of this poor little rich girl.

9

Autumn was waning into winter, and Sarah and Rebecca put on their heavy coats one December morning, shivering at the thought of the block’s walk to the bus stop.  “Bye, Mommie,” Sarah sang.

“Here’s hoping the bus isn’t late,” added Rebecca.

“Lord willing,” reminded her mother.  Rebecca’s heart was so much lighter this year as each new school day dawned.  Meg was turning out to be a good friend.  Just how good, Rebecca was soon to find out.

The bus was filled on that particular morning with chilly children, so Sarah and Rebecca had to stand in the aisle holding on to the seat backs all the way to school.

Two of Rebecca’s classmates, who always took particular pleasure in taunting Rebecca with such nicknames as “Miss Goody Two-Shoes,” were sitting just in front of the area where Sarah and Rebecca stood.  They were whispering and giggling as usual.  Rebecca just smiled and asked the Lord silently for grace to endure the constant taunts of her classmates.

When the bus finally came to a halt in front of the school, Rebecca noticed that one of her two “enemies” had left her pocketbook on the seat.  She picked it up and hopped off the bus, scanning the crowd of students for the owner of the purse.  But the girl had disappeared.

The first bell had rung, and the children had only five minutes to get to homeroom before the tardy bell.  Rebecca, who was very conscientious about being on time, ran straight to the school office with the purse, not taking time to go to her own locker.

That meant she would have to carry her coat, lunch, and books until third period when she would have time to go by her locker.  But she was afraid Cynthia, her classmate whose purse she had found, would worry about its being missing, so she explained to the secretary exactly whose purse it was and asked if it could be taken to Cynthia.

The secretary said, “Sure, Rebecca.”  (She knew all the students by name.) As Rebecca waited, Mrs. Harper checked the rolls quickly and found Cynthia’s homeroom.  “I’ll take it to her myself,” promised Mrs. Harper.  “I need to see her homeroom teacher this morning anyway.”

Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief that the errand was taken care of and scurried off to her own homeroom with the thought, “Perhaps this is the Lord’s way of giving me an opportunity to love my enemies.”

Rebecca was in the middle of a math test in third period when the loudspeaker came on.  “Rebecca Gladstone, please come to the principal's office immediately.”  All eyes were on Rebecca, who blushed at the sudden attention and wondered if there were some emergency at home or what.

She turned her half-finished paper in to the teacher, who whispered encouragingly, “Don’t worry about the rest of the test, Rebecca.  You can make it up any time.”

When Rebecca reached the school office, she was somewhat surprised to see Cynthia there, sitting on a metal chair inside the door.  Was that a smug expression Cynthia had on her face? Rebecca wondered.

“Come in, Rebecca,” said the principal kindly.  “Let’s go into my office for a moment.”

Rebecca followed Mr. Pritchard meekly and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.  Mr. Pritchard knew of Rebecca’s reputation at school, and being a sincere Christian himself, hated even to broach the subject on his mind, but he knew he had to.

“Rebecca,” he began hoarsely, and then clearing his throat continued, “you turned Cynthia’s pocketbook in to the office this morning, and Cynthia says a five-dollar bill is missing from her wallet.  Did you see anything drop to the ground on your way into the school?”

“Oh, no sir,” replied Rebecca, her mind quickly connecting Cynthia’s smug expression with the accusation she had obviously implied to Mr. Pritchard.  Rebecca had learned the principle from her parents of not standing in her own righteousness, and so she was able to answer Mr. Pritchard’s question without a trace of defensiveness.  “I brought the purse directly to the office and was especially careful that the contents did not spill out.”

“That’s all I needed to know, Rebecca,” Mr. Pritchard replied, with relief that Rebecca had not taken offense.  “You may go back to class now; thank you for coming down,” he added as he patted her on the shoulder.

“Mr. Pritchard,” Rebecca asked with concern in her voice, “does Cynthia think I took her money?”

“Well, if she does,” Mr. Pritchard said firmly, “she certainly has no reason to.  I’ll talk to her again.  Don’t think another thing about it.”  Rebecca left the office, hoping against hope that Mr. Pritchard would straighten everything out, but knowing in her heart that Cynthia was not about to let this opportunity go by.

“I should have known,” Rebecca thought to herself.  “Oh Father,” she prayed, “You’ve told us to be wise as serpents and as harmless as doves.  I’m afraid I’ve done something really stupid.  Please, Lord, would You straighten it all out? In Jesus’ Name, amen.”

Rebecca met Meg after third period, and as they walked to the cafeteria together, Rebecca unburdened her heart to her friend.  Although Meg was a Sunday School regular, she couldn’t hide the obvious disgust she felt in her heart.  “I can’t believe that creep would stoop so low.  Oooooh, that makes me so mad!  Just wait till I see her.”

“It’s all right,” said Rebecca, trying to calm her friend down.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, Meg.  I certainly don’t want you to get back at Cynthia.  I don’t feel that way at all.  I know that the Lord works everything together for good to those that love Him, so let’s just wait and see what He’ll do, okay?”

“Well, okay,” agreed Meg reluctantly.  “But sometimes it’s harder to understand you than it is creeps like Cynthia.”

The two friends had reached the cafeteria and had just brushed past a crowd of girls in the doorway, when Rebecca and Meg both heard a distinctly loud “Sh!” come from the direction of the crowd.  Rebecca tried to ignore her fear of what that “Sh!” might mean, when her eyes fell on Cynthia whispering to a group of girls at one of the dining tables.

Cynthia looked up, and seeing Rebecca, clutched her pocketbook close to her chest dramatically.  Rebecca sensed the atmosphere of gossip that was developing around her, and Meg, who also sensed it, was forced to make a choice.  Up until now she’d been able to be friends with Rebecca and everybody else she knew, but the time had come to make a stand.

“Come on, Rebecca,” she nudged her friend protectively, “let’s eat over here.”  Rebecca thanked the Lord for grace to get through this difficult circumstance, and for the Lord’s provision of grace in the person of her friend, Meg.

Rebecca thought that the day was the longest of her life.  How she needed the fellowship and understanding of her family.  Her home was such a haven from trouble, and she longed to be there.  The bus ride home was a long one.  Cynthia had evidently found another ride home, much to Rebecca’s relief.  But she wanted to get to her own front door fast… and that makes it take forever.

“Oh, Mother,” she wept, as she crossed the threshold into the Gladstone home.

“Darling, what happened?” her mother asked, her voice filled with concern.  Rebecca explained the situation with as much composure as she could to her mother and an equally sympathetic Sarah.

Just telling her mother the whole story lifted a great spiritual weight from Rebecca’s shoulders, and she sat quietly awaiting her mother’s words of wisdom, words which always gave her immense peace in the midst of any problem.

Mrs. Gladstone gazed at her older daughter lovingly and quoted a Scripture verse which the Lord brought to mind that was fresh bread from heaven to Rebecca’s receptive ears.  “The battle is not yours, but God’s.  Ye shall not need to fight in this battle.  Set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the Lord with you.”

Rebecca leaned over and gave her mother a grateful hug.  “Thank you, Mother.  It’s so comforting to know that the Lord will handle this for me.  It’s such a big mess, only He could ever straighten it out.”

“Well, honey, that’s just one of the many advantages of having God for a Father,” added her mother.  “Now, we’ll just commit this whole problem to the Lord tonight in family worship.  I know the Lord is able, but it will be interesting to see just how He decides to handle this battle,” she mused with a smile of faith.

Rebecca went to sleep that night in the comfort of the Holy Spirit.  It was no light matter to be accused of stealing, and then to have your reputation ruined by malicious lies.  But Rebecca’s foundation in the Lord through her parents had prepared her for these awful moments in her life, and she was thus able to leave her concerns confidently in God’s Hands.

The next morning on the bus, Cynthia’s face was the first Rebecca saw.  The sight of this girl who was trying to destroy her brought to Rebecca’s mind another verse she had committed to memory in song.  “Love your enemies.  Bless them that curse you….”  Rebecca sang the entire verse to herself several times, and then praying silently, she blessed her enemy, Cynthia, all the way to school.

Rebecca was glad to see Meg’s friendly face in homeroom that morning.  She could feel the eyes of other students on her as she walked in.  Not all of them had fallen for Cynthia’s lie, it seemed.  They just didn’t know what to think.

“How are you?” Meg asked Rebecca anxiously.

“I’m really peaceful, Meg.  The Lord is going to take care of this.  You wait and see.”

“Sure,” replied Meg, trying to believe.  The friends parted after homeroom and made plans to meet outside the cafeteria after third period for lunch.  Rebecca had Math, Meg had Physical Education.

Rebecca got to the cafeteria first and waited outside the door for Meg.  Five minutes passed and still Meg had not come.  Rebecca waited as long as she could but decided that if she didn’t go on in and eat, she’d miss lunch altogether.  It was hard to go in alone, especially with the temptation to wonder why Meg had not come.  But she went in quietly and sat down.

Meanwhile, Meg had gotten almost all the way to the cafeteria when she noticed that she had left her Math homework in the gym locker room.  She rushed back to get it, but it had fallen off a bench and had slid under the lockers.  Meg was prying it out with a pencil when she heard a couple of girls come in to the empty locker room giggling and talking.  She recognized Cynthia’s voice right away.  Cynthia’s friend was saying, “Did you see her face when you grabbed your pocketbook close to you yesterday in the cafeteria? I bet she could have gone through the floor, the little mouse.”

“Well, that should teach Miss Righteous a good lesson.  She thinks she’s so holy.”

“Yeah,” agreed her friend.  “Say, did your dad give you any more money for the week when he found out your five dollars was stolen?”

“What five dollars?” Cynthia smiled wickedly.

“You mean you didn’t even have a five dollar bill?  Why, you little….”  Her friend laughed.

Meg hopped up and came around the corner where the two girls could see her.  “I heard the whole thing, Cynthia,” she said furiously.  “To have falsely accused Rebecca was bad enough, but to have made up the entire thing about the missing five dollars just for the hatefulness of it is the lowest thing I’ve ever heard of.  And I intend to let the whole school know the truth.”

“Go ahead and tell it,” said Cynthia carelessly.  “Who would believe her best and only friend?”

“I would!” called out Miss Lovell, having stepped out of her gym office just as Meg had approached the girls and just in time to hear the entire interaction between Meg and Cynthia.  “Meg, you may leave,” added Miss Lovell.  “Cynthia, you and your friend come with me to the principal’s office.”

Meg was so glad that the Phys. ed.  teacher was present to hear the whole thing.  She knew that Cynthia had been right.  No one would have believed just her.  But everybody trusted Miss Lovell.  She was the most fair-minded teacher in the school.  “Praise the Lord!” Meg said, half out loud.  “What am I saying? I sound like Rebecca.” she thought.  “Well, God did do it,” she added to herself, “just like Rebecca said He would.”

Meg almost passed right by the cafeteria she was so lost in her thoughts.  But she caught herself, turned around, and marched right in and over to Rebecca, who was sitting alone.  “Sorry I’m late,” Meg apologized, with the biggest grin on her face Rebecca had ever seen.

“Well, you don’t look very sorry,” Rebecca remarked, laughing.

“I just witnessed a miracle, that’s all,” Meg beamed.  “You won’t believe what has happened!” Meg then repeated the whole incident to Rebecca word for word.

Rebecca was so full of thanksgiving to God she could hardly keep from crying.  She recalled once again the verse her mother had shared with her: “Set yourselves, stand ye still, and see the salvation of the Lord.”

“God is so good to me, Meg,” said Rebecca, the tears flowing gently down her cheeks.

“Yes, He is,” replied her friend.  “It makes me want to know Him like you do.”

10

Nine-year-old Amanda had settled in to the routine of life at St. Catherine’s.  The routine itself offered her some sense of security, and she was glad to have something to do for most of the hours of the day.

Her weekday schedule included a private piano lesson twice a week as well as an hour of practice a day.  That particular duty was more like pleasure to Amanda.  She enjoyed the thrill of her fingers flying up and down the more difficult runs in some of the classical pieces, and consistent practice every day made her potential as a pianist evident to anyone who heard her, including herself.  Little did Amanda realize that this God-given ability would some day play a part in leading her to the Giver Himself.

Mrs. Wellington wrote her daughter exactly once during the first school year, with the request that if at all possible she could find someone to go home with for Christmas holidays, or else make arrangements to stay at school.  Amanda’s parents had received an invitation to spend Christmas with friends on the French Riviera, and since those friends had no children....  “Well, you know what I mean, Amanda...,” her mother wrote.  The letter was a long one, because she used the last three pages to tell Amanda about her adoption.

Mrs. Wellington hadn’t had the courage to tell her daughter face-to-face before she left for boarding school, but she wanted Amanda to know in case the information might be needed.

The truth of course was no surprise to Amanda, who had heard enough to give her the picture while huddled outside her parents’ bedroom the night of the storm.  But Amanda did find the details of her adoption interesting and thought provoking.

“Wonder what my real mother looks like?” she mused to herself.  “And leaving me in a basket… that sounds like something right out of a novel….  Oh, well, no use dreaming.  I guess I’ll never know the whole story.”  Amanda folded the letter thoughtfully and put it on the desk.  The part about staying with someone else at Christmas didn’t bother her at all, a fact for which she felt a little guilty.  She sighed and sat on her bed for an hour, planning a scheme to wangle an invitation from her roommate, Mary Beth Callahan, for the holidays.

Amanda had never sat down and planned a deliberate lie before, but her pride would not let her reveal the truth to Mary Beth.  Finally, she came up with the perfect ploy.  She heard Mary Beth’s footsteps outside the room, grabbed up the letter, and clutching it tightly, threw herself on her bed, buried her face in her pillow and pretended to be sobbing.

“Hey, Amanda, what’s wrong?” asked Mary Beth, surprised to see her roommate so apparently distraught.

“Mother has had a serious operation and will be in the hospital over Christmas,” Amanda lied, her face hidden by the pillow.  “Daddy says I shouldn’t make the trip home because it would be a depressing time for everyone.  I’m really worried about Mother, but I know it’s no use to argue.  Daddy won’t change his mind.  Oh, what am I going to do?”

Mary Beth innocently took the bait and offered, “Oh, Amanda, I’m sure my mother and father wouldn’t mind if you came home with me for Christmas.  Please don’t cry.  Your mother will be all right.  We’ll have a good time over the holidays, and it will help you to forget.”

Amanda sniffed and sat up, her hands still covering her tearless face.  “Oh, Mary Beth, I wouldn’t think of imposing on you.”

“Not at all,” Mary Beth assured her roommate.  So it was settled.  Amanda blew her nose with her handkerchief and walked quickly into the bathroom so that her unsuspecting friend would not see that she was acting.

Christmas at the Callahans was somewhat different from any Christmas Amanda had ever known.  But then, she’d never really had a family.  She watched from the sidelines as Mary Beth and her younger brother, Tom, ran for their gifts under the tree.

Although she saw that the Callahans were much happier as a family than she and her parents, there was still something missing.  Amanda couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew that she wasn’t jealous of Mary Beth’s family, and she had thought she would be.

“Maybe it’s just me,” Amanda thought to herself.  “I’m never really happy.”  At least the holidays went by pleasantly enough.  But Amanda was glad to get back to school, to the routine that served as a substitute for happiness, and to her music, which gave her life some real purpose.

11

Little Sarah was no longer little.  At nine, she was only a few inches shorter than her thirteen-year-old sister and gaining on her fast. Sarah was such a contented child.  She had asked Jesus into her heart at the age of four and since that time did not fail to function as either a praise or prayer warrior along with the other members of the Gladstone family.

She responded well to her parents’ discipline and didn’t seem to need correction more than once for the same thing.  Following Rebecca’s example, as Sarah grew older she began to confess her faults before the Christian fellowship with whom the Gladstones met for praise and worship.  Because she was faithful to walk in the truth of her sins, the testimony of Jesus was already shining through her young life in many ways.

Christmas had come once again to the Gladstone household.  Each year Christmas Day was different.  This particular year David and Ruth had told the girls that each of them would receive one special surprise gift from the Lord.

Neither Rebecca nor Sarah had any idea what present they might receive, but they waited for the time with eager anticipation.  On Christmas morning, the family had a special breakfast together and then shared in a time of worship as a family.

Sarah, who had been taking piano lessons for three years, played quite well by now and was able to accompany the family as they gathered around the piano to sing carols.  Mr. Gladstone closed the time of worship with a prayer.  “Oh, Father, thank You for our family, for Ruth, and for our precious children.  May these gifts which you have impressed us to buy for Rebecca and Sarah bring joy, and more importantly, may they bring glory to Your Holy Name, Jesus.  Amen.”

Mr. Gladstone left the room, and the girls sat down – at least they tried to.  It was almost Jumping Jack and Jumping Jack Junior all over again, the sisters were so excited.  Mr. Gladstone brought out Rebecca’s gift first in a box so small Sarah wondered how it could be anything at all.

But Rebecca knew what it was, or hoped that she knew.  For quite a while, she had wanted a simple silver necklace, but she had mentioned it to no one.  “But surely… could it be?” she wondered silently.  Gingerly, Rebecca took off the wrapping and opened the box.  “Oh, thank you Mother and Daddy.  The Lord told you exactly what I wanted.”  Mrs. Gladstone put the necklace on her little girl (who seemed so grown-up right at the moment) and gave her a fervent hug.

“The Lord loves you dearly, Rebecca,” her mother whispered.  Sarah rejoiced that Rebecca had gotten something she wanted and thought her big sister looked simply beautiful in the necklace.  But she couldn’t imagine what the Lord had in mind for her.  He had already given her so much, and she couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted.

Mr. Gladstone left the room once again and returned shortly with the prettiest cherry-red and white bicycle Sarah had ever seen.  It was so new, the metal on it shimmered.  Sarah was dumbfounded.  She already had a bicycle, the one that had belonged to Rebecca when she was Sarah’s age.  But this one… oh, it was wonderful.  Mrs. Gladstone answered the question going through Sarah’s mind.  “Honey, we felt like the Lord wanted you to have a new bicycle.  We don’t always know all His Purposes in what He shows us to do.  You do like it, don’t you?”

“Oh, Mommie, it’s the most beautiful bike in the world,” Sarah exclaimed.  And then she added joyfully, “Thank you, Jesus.”

As the Lord would have it, Christmas had arrived on a sunny day, so Sarah spent the better part of the day riding the new bike up and down the sidewalk which lined the neighborhood block, while Rebecca strode from mirror to mirror admiring her wonderful necklace.

Sarah had ridden down the sidewalk at least a hundred times when she noticed her new neighbor, Freddie Fisher, sitting on his front porch eating an orange.  “Hi, Freddie!” Sarah called out cheerfully.  Freddie waved and sat wistfully watching Sarah and her bike after she had passed his house.  Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if Freddie had gotten anything for Christmas.  His parents were divorced, and he lived with his mother.

His mother worked as a cashier at a grocery store.  She did well to continue house payments with no help from Freddie’s father.  So there was little money left over for anything else.  (Sarah’s mother had told her this sad piece of information one day in November when she had asked Mrs. Gladstone why Freddie always wore patches on the knees of his pants.) Remembering that conversation, Sarah rode by Freddie’s house one more time and called out, “Hey, want to ride my new bike, Freddie?”

Freddie’s eyes lit up like a flashlight, “Would I!” he returned, simultaneously hopping down off his porch with one mighty leap.  Sarah took Freddie’s place on the porch and watched him happily pedaling back and forth, up and down the sidewalk.

Once, he started to slow down, thinking he had ridden long enough.  Sarah motioned him on.  It gave her as much joy to see Freddie having such a great time as it did to ride the bike herself.  Then as she was sitting there an idea popped into her head.  She could give Freddie her old bike.  He didn’t have one at all.  That way, they could ride together.

Sarah couldn’t wait to get home and ask her parents if she could give Freddie the other bike.  Freddie rode up into the yard a few minutes later and parked the bike carefully.  Sarah mounted the bike, grinning from ear to ear.

“I gotta go home, Freddie.  See ya later!”

“Okay,” Freddie replied, “and thanks for letting me take a ride.”  But Sarah was halfway home before Freddie could finish his sentence.  Running breathlessly into the house, Sarah found her mother in the kitchen baking cookies.

“Oh, Mommie.  I’ve got a wonderful idea.  Could we give Freddie my old bike? He doesn’t have one and isn’t likely to ever get one… oh, Mommie, could we?”

“Whoa there, horsie,” said Mrs. Gladstone.  “Sounds like a good idea, but we’ll have to pray about it.  Not all seemingly good ideas are God’s ideas.”

“Mmmm,” Sarah responded, thoughtfully, “I guess I forgot about that.  But I can’t wait to pray and see what the Lord says,” she added.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, honey, I’ll ask Daddy if we can have a special prayer time right after supper,” her mother assured her.

“Oh, thank you, Mommie,” clapped Sarah, and ran off to tell Rebecca about her idea.  After supper, the family gathered and Sarah voiced her request to the Lord that only His Will would be done about the bicycle.  A few moments of silence followed as the whole family waited expectantly for an answer from God.  Finally, Sarah spoke up and said, “Daddy, I feel like the Lord has shown me that it’s not God’s Will for Freddie to have my old bike....”  She paused, and then added with sure conviction, “I think the Lord wants Freddie to have the new one.”

The answer Sarah had gotten from the Lord witnessed to everyone in the family, even though none of them had imagined such an answer would be given.  Because Sarah had learned the principle at a very young age that everything we have is the Lord’s, there was no sign of struggle against the idea in her heart, but rather a sweet peace, as well as a sense of anticipation as to what the answer might mean to Freddie.  Sarah thought back on her daddy’s prayer that morning, that each of the girl’s presents would bring glory to the Lord.  Her face suddenly glowed with understanding.  “Oh, this is gonna’ make Freddie the happiest kid in the neighborhood!”

“It may do more than that, sweetheart,” her mother replied knowingly.

The next day, Sarah got up early, ate breakfast and got ready to go outside.  Her parents had given her permission to take the bicycle to Freddie the first thing after breakfast, as they knew Sarah could hardly wait any longer than that.  But her mother instructed her to talk to Freddie’s mother alone first and find out if it was all right to offer Freddie the bike.  Fortunately, it was Mrs. Fisher’s day off, and so she answered the door.  “Is Freddie around?” whispered Sarah.

“He’s in his room, Sarah.  Let me call him for you,” offered Mrs. Fisher.

“Oh, no ma’am,” Sarah replied.  “It’s you I need to see… uh… first.”

“Is something wrong, honey?” asked Mrs. Fisher.

“Oh, no ma’am,” Sarah answered.  “I just need to ask you something.  Mrs. Fisher, I believe Jesus wants me to give Freddie my new bicycle.  I already have a bike, and Freddie doesn’t.  Is it all right with you for him to have it… please?”

Mrs. Fisher looked incredulously into Sarah’s pleading blue eyes, and her heart was touched by their obvious sincerity.  Only the Lord could have caused her to say “yes” to such a strange request, but then the Lord had already been at work in Mrs. Fisher’s heart.  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do, and do your parents know about this?” asked Mrs. Fisher carefully.

“Oh, yes ma’am, I’m sure,” Sarah grinned victoriously, “and I asked my parents’ permission last night.”

“Then, I guess it will be all right, if Freddie wants to accept it.  I’ll call him down.”  Mrs. Fisher turned to see Freddie already down the stairs.  He had heard Sarah’s voice and had come to see what she wanted.  “Well, Freddie, did you hear Sarah’s offer?” asked his mother.  Freddie nodded meekly.  “So, what do you think about it?” Mrs. Fisher added.

“I’d like to have a bike, but I can’t take your new one, Sarah,” he answered uncertainly.

“It’s all right, Freddie.  I really want you to have it.  Come on outside.  I’ll show you something.”  Freddie followed Sarah on to the porch and watched as Sarah jumped down off the steps and walked over to the bike.  “See, Freddie, Daddy has already switched it to a boy’s bicycle,” said Sarah gleefully, pointing to the cross bar on the bike.  “It’s all ready for you to ride.”

Freddie knew in his heart that Sarah sincerely wanted him to have the bicycle.  And he had heard her tell his mother that Jesus wanted him to have it too.  It made him feel special.  “Okay,” he grinned sheepishly, “I’ll take it.  Thank you, Sarah.  This is the best present I’ve ever had in my life!”

“I’m glad,” said Sarah with quiet joy.  “Now, I’ll run home and get my bike and maybe we can ride together for a while.  Be back in a minute.”

Mrs. Fisher stood at the screen door, still somewhat astonished at what had just taken place.

“Freddie,” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears, “what church do those Gladstones go to?”

“I don’t know, Mom, but one thing’s for sure… they’re Christians!” he announced emphatically.

12

The years passed quickly for the Gladstone household, but not quickly enough for young Amanda Wellington, so thoroughly cut off from a loving family.  St. Catherine’s was really the only home she knew, and though attending school there filled a real need in her life, it seemed to Amanda, now sixteen years old, that nothing could fill the huge void in her heart.

She did well academically in school and made friends easily.  Being so lonely as a child had taught her the quality of being a good listener, and so people were naturally attracted to her.  And with her exceptional talent as a pianist, Amanda was a natural for the American Miss Pageant preliminary competition coming up in her area.

Miss Longworth was primarily responsible for coercing Amanda into entering the contest, but when Amanda’s friends heard of the possibility of her entering, they urged her on so much, she felt rather guilty resisting the suggestion any longer.  It wasn’t that she didn’t feel confident.  What attention she had lacked from her parents had been made up for by her peers and the faculty at St. Catherine’s.  It was just that Amanda didn’t care.  Winning a pageant like American Miss, or even accompanying the Philharmonic Orchestra would not bring her any closer to the simple desire of her heart… to be loved.

Occasionally, Amanda would recall the dream she had had as a child, as vividly now as when she had first dreamed it.  Those words kept ringing in her ears, “I love you, Amanda.  I love you.”  With the exception of that dream, she had never heard those words spoken to her even once in all her life.

But to please those who believed in her, Amanda entered the state preliminaries for the pageant.  It came as no surprise to anyone that she won the state division easily.  Her unaffected manner, poise, and obvious talent had made the choice an easy one for the judges.

As exciting as the news was to those around her, Amanda felt no lasting satisfaction herself from having won.  She certainly didn’t need the scholarship money (and had requested that it be given to the first runner-up) and winning only obligated her to participate in the National American Miss Pageant.

Miss Longworth offered to chaperone Amanda in Atlanta, where the national pageant was to be held.  Amanda was grateful for her support.  How she hated doing anything alone.

The preliminaries lasted a full week, in which every contestant was interviewed by each judge, each girl gave a performance of her particular talent, and all of the girls attended dinners and get-togethers with other teenage girls from every state in the Union who were vying for the coveted title of American Miss.  Amanda’s relaxed attitude was a primary factor in the judges’ decision to select her as one of the ten finalists in the competition.

The fact that Amanda didn’t really care whether she won or not gave her a seeming confidence that the judges found very favorably impressive.  The ten finalists were to be featured on a nationally televised program on the final day of the pageant.  They would each be given an opportunity to perform their talent and to answer a question chosen at random from a fishbowl and read to them by the pageant’s master of ceremonies.

Amanda was the first contestant to perform her talent the final night on the televised broadcast. She had chosen a difficult selection by Tchaikovsky, and despite the pressure of knowing that millions of people were watching her fingers, she played exquisitely, without a single mistake.

She then returned backstage and sat patiently waiting for the other finalists to display their talents so that the final part of the contest could begin.  She wondered nervously what the master of ceremonies might ask her.  It was one thing to sit down and play a piece you knew as well as your name, but quite another to answer a question you had not thought about, before millions of people.  Amanda began to wish that she could run out that stage door and never return.

But there were other people to consider… Miss Longworth, for instance.  No, she couldn’t run out.  They would never forgive her.  And so, when Amanda heard her full name called from the stage, she rose bravely to the occasion and made herself go out there.  The emcee tried to put her at ease, but Amanda only half-smiled as she reached into that terrifying glass bowl for her question.

“And your question is...,”  announced the host dramatically, “If you could speak to anyone in the world tonight on national television, to whom would you speak and what would you say?”

The question was so close to Amanda’s heart that she did not stop to consider the consequences of answering the question honestly.  “I would choose my natural mother,” she began without hesitation, “and I would say….”  She paused.

Amanda found herself lost in the opportunity before her, if by any chance her natural mother might be listening.  Suddenly, she was totally unaware of the millions listening to her at that moment.  She was talking simply to her unknown mother.  “Hello, Mother.  This is Amanda.  I’m the baby you left in a basket on a doorstep sixteen years ago.  My birthday is on April 16 in case you’re not sure it’s me.  I just want to say thank you for giving me life and for giving me up when you knew you couldn’t handle it.”

The auditorium was respectfully silent at this unexpected reply to the emcee’s question.  There were few dry eyes in the audience and none among the judges.  So seldom does the world ever face any real feelings that Amanda’s statement left them in awe.  Thunderous applause soon erupted from the audience, begun in part by some who could not take the honesty of the moment and others who wanted to show their appreciation for Amanda’s courage in making her answer.  It is doubtful that anyone heard the responses of the final three contestants.  The judges had made up their minds and so had the audience.

Finally the moment arrived.  The emcee announced: “Judges, your decision, please.”  The ten finalists stood huddled together holding hands excitedly.  Amanda stood quietly, her mind racing rapidly, wondering if her natural mother could have possibly heard her.  “The third runner up is….”  The emcee was announcing the runners-up and handing them their trophies, but Amanda could scarcely keep her mind on the results.

The sound of her own name vibrating throughout the auditorium brought her back down to earth.  “And Amanda Wellington, the new American Miss for this year’s national pageant.”  Amanda’s mouth flew open in surprise as the other girls gathered around to congratulate her.  Cameras flashed, and reporters from every major newspaper in the country rushed to the telephones to announce the winner.  Amanda’s answer to the question given her had sparked such interest that many of the reporters quoted her response to the emcee word-for-word in the articles they wrote covering the pageant.

13

Meg, Rebecca’s closest friend since seventh grade, was now twenty and in her junior year at a Christian college.  The weekend had come, and to pass the time, Meg had decided to watch the American Miss Pageant scheduled for the evening on t.v.

When Amanda Wellington sat down to the piano to perform during the pageant, Meg could not believe her eyes.  “Why, it’s Sarah Gladstone!” she exclaimed to the empty lounge.  “But it couldn’t be.  If Sarah were going to be in the American Miss Pageant, Rebecca would have written about it.  Besides, Sarah wouldn’t be interested in that kind of thing.”

But Meg could not get over the uncanny resemblance, and sat glued to the television for the next two hours, trying to get a full-faced glimpse of this Amanda Wellington.  It was during Amanda’s touching speech that Meg put the facts together and knew without a doubt that this was more than just a coincidence.

Meg ran back up to her dorm room, taking the stairs leading to her floor two at a time.  She picked up the phone in her suite and dialed Rebecca’s home.  “You’re not going to believe this, Rebecca, you’re just not going to believe this!” Meg practically shouted to her friend when Rebecca got on the line.

“Is that you, Meg?” Rebecca asked, laughing that Meg had been so excited that she hadn’t even stopped to identify herself.  “Sure, I’ll believe it.  What on earth is it that you want me to believe?”

“Your sister, Sarah, has a twin.  I saw her tonight on the American Miss Pageant… and she won!”

Rebecca tried to take it all in.  “Meg, lots of people look alike, even strikingly similar.  Maybe it’s your imagination.”

“No maybe about it,” insisted Meg. “She told her story on national television.  Said she was born April l6… that’s Sarah’s birthday… right?”

“Yes, go on Meg,” said Rebecca, giving her full attention.

“Well, this girl is also sixteen and her mother left her on a doorstep in a basket too.  Her name is Amanda.  Mandy… Sandy… get it? That was the name Sarah arrived with, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, it was!” cried Rebecca, her interest aroused to the heights.  “Oh, Meg, I’ve got to tell the family.  I’ll call you back as soon as I can.  And thanks for calling.”

Rebecca hung up and ran to the living room but hesitated to announce the news with Sarah sitting there.  Perhaps her mother should tell Sarah later.  “Mother, could I see you for a moment?” asked Rebecca, trying to sound casual.

“Sure, honey,” her mother answered.  Mrs. Gladstone followed Rebecca into the bedroom and closed the door quietly.  Rebecca whispered as softly as she could the details of the conversation she had had with Meg on the phone.

Mrs. Gladstone sat down, stunned somewhat by the revelation, and not doubting for a moment the accuracy of Meg’s statement that Sarah had a twin.  “Rebecca, I need to talk to Daddy.  Would you send him back here and stay with Sarah for a while? Maybe you all could pop some corn or something,” suggested her mother.

“Of course, Mother,” replied Rebecca.  It seemed forever to Rebecca before her mother and daddy emerged from the bedroom.  Having committed in private all aspects of this new circumstance in their lives to the Lord, Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone went out into the living room.

No longer a wide-eyed little girl, Sarah had blossomed into a lovely young lady, pretty to look at, but even prettier on the inside.  As Mrs. Gladstone revealed the probability to Sarah that she might have a twin, and cited the details that seemed to confirm the fact, Sarah listened as attentively as she could, but her mind was manufacturing many unanswered questions at the same time.  Speculation over the “news” continued way into the night.

“I won’t sleep a wink tonight, Mother,” Sarah predicted.  “I just can’t believe this whole thing isn’t some crazy dream!”

“Well, try to rest if you can, honey.  We’ll have a big day tomorrow checking the story out,” her mother said encouragingly.

Early the next morning, Mr. Gladstone was the first one up and the first one to see the front page of the morning paper with Sarah’s look-alike photograph adorning an article entitled, “American Miss Looking For Mother.”  Mr. Gladstone read with intrigue Amanda’s story and woke his sleeping wife with Amanda’s picture.  “Oh, David,” Ruth cried, as she rubbed her eyes.  “It’s really true! After all these years.”

Sarah had not fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning, but just that moment she appeared in her bathrobe at her parents’ open bedroom door.  “Is she in the paper, Mother?” Sarah guessed, since both her parents were staring incredulously at the front page.

“See for yourself.  She’s you all right,” quipped her daddy.

Sarah opened her sleepy eyes as wide as she could to take in the whole picture.  “Oh, Mother, it’s like looking in a mirror!”

The whole day at the Gladstone house was consumed with discussing what to do regarding getting in touch with Amanda, and with sharing any ideas they felt the Lord might be giving them.  This little piece of information presented a whole new spectrum of things to the Gladstones.  But the Lord eventually put His Perspective on the entire situation.  How Amanda would react to the news was one detail about which they had no idea.

14

Amanda lay in her hotel bed wide awake for most of the night.  She could not believe that she had actually announced to the entire world her feelings about her natural mother.  She could not believe that she was American Miss.  She could not believe that her adoptive mother had called long-distance to rebuke her for telling her personal affairs right on television.  (No word that she and Mr. Wellington were pleased with her having won the pageant.)  But Amanda couldn’t worry about her mother and daddy’s feelings of embarrassment right now.  They had taken too long to show any feeling about anything, and Amanda was not used to it.  She finally drifted off into a somewhat fitful sleep.  The dawning of a new day would bring an even bigger source of disbelief for Amanda, as well as a surprise that would change her life forever.

Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone decided that the wisest thing to do would be to get in touch with Miss Longworth.  The paper had mentioned her name both as Amanda’s chaperone for the pageant and as the headmistress of the boarding school where Amanda lived during the school year.

Mrs. Gladstone was not sure how Mr. and Mrs. Wellington would react to this unusual intrusion into their private lives, and so they decided that Miss Longworth would be a suitable go-between to deliver the news both to Amanda and to her parents.  Amanda and Miss Longworth were scheduled to fly back to St. Catherine’s the day following the pageant, and so the Gladstones had to wait until the evening to get in touch with the headmistress.  Mrs. Gladstone was able to explain the situation to Miss Longworth clearly, and she agreed enthusiastically to relay the news as diplomatically as possible to the Wellingtons, and with their permission, to Amanda as well.

The next morning, following the call from the Gladstones, Miss Longworth got in touch by phone with Mrs. Wellington, whose response to the story was one of cool indifference.  She was still somewhat embarrassed and miffed that Amanda had told her story to the world, and so her only reply was, “Well, if Amanda is so anxious to talk to her real mother, she may as well discover her real sister.”

Miss Longworth was not shocked at Mrs. Wellington’s cold reaction.  She had pieced the story together over the years that Amanda had no real relationship with her parents.  But perhaps these new circumstances would bring old hurts out into the open where they could be healed somehow.  Miss Longworth thanked Mrs. Wellington for her time and hung up.

“Please send Amanda Wellington to my office,” Miss Longworth instructed her secretary.  Amanda appeared moments later and stood smiling in front of Miss Longworth’s desk.  “Amanda, I think you had better sit down.  I have a bit of news for you that may just change your life.”  Amanda sat down obediently in the visitor’s chair across from Miss Longworth’s desk.  “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll get right to the point,” continued Miss Longworth.  “You have a sister you know nothing about.”

“You mean Mother has had a baby?” Amanda exclaimed, bewildered.  Miss Longworth cleared her throat and tried again.  Without having had time to plan ahead how to present the news, Miss Longworth was finding it rather difficult to explain.

“There is a Gladstone family who live only two-hundred miles from your parent’s home, Amanda.  They have a sixteen-year-old daughter whom they adopted after someone left her on their doorstep.  Her birthday is April 16.  The name her natural mother gave her was Sandy, and her face is an exact reflection of yours.”

“Wow!” cried Amanda.  “You’ve got to be kidding!” (But she knew that the ever straightforward headmistress never joked).  “I can’t believe it! Oh, Miss Longworth, does she know about me? I mean, will I be able to meet her? Should I call my parents?” Amanda’s excitement over having a sister far outweighed her reaction at having won the title of American Miss less than forty-eight hours before.

Miss Longworth could see with her own eyes just how important having a sister was to Amanda.  The next two hours were spent making phone calls, plans and arrangements for the reunion of the twins.  Miss Longworth spent the first half-hour of that time just calming Amanda down, for she was in the pleasantest state of shock the headmistress had ever witnessed.

15

“Phone’s ringing, Sarah!” Mrs. Gladstone called from the shower.  “Can you get it?”

“Sure, Mother,” Sarah shouted through the closed door.  “The Gladstones’ residence,” Sarah spoke clearly into the phone.

“Hello, this is Miss Longworth from St. Catherine’s.  May I speak to Mrs. Gladstone?”

“Just a minute, Miss Longworth.  I don’t know if Mother can get to the phone, but I’ll check.”  Mrs. Gladstone sent Sarah back to the phone with permission to take the message.  Sarah ran back and spoke into the phone excitedly.  “Mother, Miss Longworth said it would be all right for me to take a message since she can’t get to the phone right away.”

Miss Longworth laughed at Sarah’s slip of the tongue.  “This must be Amanda’s twin.  I suppose you’re pretty discombobulated about this whole matter,” offered Miss Longworth sympathetically.

“Yes ma’am, I really am,” replied Sarah sincerely.  “I don’t think I’ve slept a wink in two whole days.”

“Well, you twins are certainly identical.  I don’t think Amanda has slept either.”

“You mean she’s excited too?” asked Sarah hopefully.

“Oh, yes,” Miss Longworth assured her.  “The sooner we can get you two together, the better! Would you like to say hello to her now?”

“Oh, yes,” the girls gasped simultaneously, Sarah squealing into the phone, and Amanda into Miss Longworth’s free ear.

“Hi, sis,” Sarah began, genuinely.

“Hi!” Amanda responded, her heart soaking in the sweet sound of Sarah’s voice.

“I really would rather meet face-to-face, but I just wanted to hear your voice,” Sarah continued.  “How about you?”

“Oh, me too,” agreed Amanda, content for the present to know that this whole development was really happening.  Mrs. Gladstone had gotten out of the shower by that time and had come out in her robe to the phone.

“My mother is here now, Amanda, so I guess she’ll want to talk to Miss Longworth.  I hope we’ll see you very soon,” Sarah added.

“Me too,” repeated Amanda shyly.  “Bye.”

Miss Longworth and Mrs. Gladstone spent the next fifteen minutes discussing plans for the twins’ reunion.  Mrs. Wellington had given permission for Amanda to meet her sister, and Miss Longworth thought it best for Amanda to come to the Gladstone home and perhaps spend a few days visiting.

“Those were my exact thoughts,” replied Mrs. Gladstone, silently thanking the Lord for working out the details.

“If it’s convenient for you, Mrs. Gladstone, Amanda could take the 11:00 a.m. flight tomorrow morning from here and arrive at Central Airport at 11:52.  If you can arrange to pick her up there, we’re all set.”

“That will be just fine, Miss Longworth,” answered Mrs. Gladstone.  “Please tell Amanda that we will be there to greet her plane and that we are all anxious to meet her.”

“I’ll do that,” Miss Longworth replied.  “Now I don’t suppose you’ll have any trouble recognizing Amanda among the crowd,” she added jovially. “I’ve enjoyed talking with you, Mrs. Gladstone, and I’m already looking forward to Amanda’s return with news of her visit.  Good-bye for now.”

“Good-bye, Miss Longworth.  Thank you for caring.”

Miss Longworth hung up the phone and sat quietly for a minute, lost in thought.  Being a woman of the world, she was not used to the unaffected sincerity she sensed in Mrs. Gladstone.  But she couldn’t put her finger on what it was that made her different from most of the people with whom she interacted from day to day.

“Miss Longworth,” Amanda interrupted the headmistress’s thoughts as gently as possible, “does that mean it’s settled? May I go pack?”

“By all means,” replied Miss Longworth, rousing herself from her reverie.  “They’re really anxious to meet you, Amanda – the whole family.”

“I know,” mused Amanda, remembering her pleasant conversation with Sarah.  “I can just feel it.”  Amanda did not realize the source of her warm feelings toward the Gladstone family, but she was soon to meet the Source living in the hearts of Sarah, Rebecca, and their parents.

16

Sarah awoke early the next morning and playfully “cock-a-doodle-dooed” outside her parents’ door.  Then she skipped back to her own room to “crow” more softly into a sleeping Rebecca’s ear.

The house was soon bustling with four joyful Gladstones getting ready for a very special day.  Without actually planning to do so all four ended up in the living room after getting dressed and before breakfast. They smiled at God’s Divine appointment in “gathering them together unto Him” and spontaneously took the opportunity to praise the One Who had planned the impending reunion with Amanda.

After breakfast and a few finishing touches on the house, the Gladstones piled into their van and headed out to the airport, which was an hour’s drive.  To Sarah, the trip seemed to take forever, much like Rebecca’s trip to the adoption agency sixteen years earlier when she thought she’d be bringing home a new sister.

But they drove up to the airport at 11:00 on the dot, and spent the next fifty-two minutes looking at their watches, craning their necks to observe the arrival of every new plane, and grinning at each other with joyful anticipation.  Sarah asked the Lord to be especially with her and to cause her greeting to Amanda to be just what He wanted, to make her time with her new sister fruitful, and to cause her to say to Amanda only those things He would have her to say.

The plane was on time, and Amanda emerged from the ramp connected to the airplane, looking around shyly for the Gladstones.  Soon she spotted what could have been, except for the clothes, a mirror reflection of herself, smiling broadly and waving.

When Amanda got within reach, Sarah wrapped her arms about her twin in a warm hug.  Amanda, who had never been hugged in her life, could not help but respond to Sarah’s greeting and hugged her right back without even knowing how.  Then Sarah introduced Amanda to her mother and daddy and to Rebecca.

Mrs. Gladstone put her arm lightly around Amanda’s shoulder.  “Welcome,” she said simply.  Amanda already felt at ease, and she knew for once in her life she was wanted.  The trip home from the airport was much shorter (naturally) and Amanda got out of the car and noticed gratefully that the Gladstones did not live on a huge estate but in a real neighborhood.  If the outside of their modest home was inviting to Amanda, the inside made her want to stay. Its furnishings were practical and pretty, the fireplace cozy looking, and there were no huge halls to separate the rooms from each other.

The family took off their coats and settled down in the living room while Mr. Gladstone made a good fire in the fireplace.  Even though it was early March, the winds were chilling, and he knew the fire would warm them nicely.

The next few hours were spent mostly with the girls trying to catch up on the first sixteen years of each other’s lives.  Sarah longed to give Amanda her testimony, because she sensed that Amanda knew nothing of the Lord, but the time did not seem right, and Sarah knew from experience how important timing was.

The twins discussed interests they had in common, their favorite subjects in school (both disliked math and loved history).  Rebecca joined in, fascinated by the similarities between the twins, but seeing more importantly the eternal significance of Amanda’s visit.  It was wonderful fun – the kind of fun Amanda didn’t even know existed, and it was almost supper time before anyone realized that they hadn’t even eaten lunch.

That night, Rebecca moved to the guest room, good-naturedly allowing the twins to share a room.  She knew that they would be talking far into the night and that they needed just such an opportunity.  Amanda was delighted to sleep in Rebecca’s twin bed in the very same room with her new-found sister.

Rebecca was right.  It was 4:00 a.m.  before the two tired teenagers could find a stopping place in their conversation long enough to fall asleep.  But more than just “catch-up” news passed between the twins that night.  Amanda had brought up the subject of the difference between their two homes.  “What went wrong with my parents and me, Sarah? Your family is so close, and you really love each other.  Do you think that my family being rich is the key?” asked Amanda honestly.

“Well, I’m sure that money has been a substitute for love in many families, Amanda.  But that’s only a symptom of the real problem.  I’ve known kids from poor families who have basically the same feelings you and your parents have about each other.  Without money, they may express themselves with a different route of escape from the problem, but the problem is still the same.  My parents have raised Rebecca and me from birth in the love of Jesus.  He is the answer to every problem we create for ourselves.”

Amanda looked bewildered.  She had never even been in a religious discussion in her life, much less a spiritual one.  She had heard of Jesus as an historical figure, but she knew no more about Him in reality than she did her natural mother.

Sarah sensed how little Amanda understood even of the person of Jesus.  Silently asking Him for wisdom, she proceeded to unfold to Amanda the story of His Life.  The Lord, over the years, had been faithfully preparing Amanda for this moment, that she might hear with a hungry heart the Good News of His Love for her.  When Sarah had finished all she felt the Lord had given her to say, she waited quietly for Amanda’s response.

Amanda, touched by the Holy Spirit, began to sob.  “Sarah, when I was eight, I overheard my parents saying that I was adopted.  It really shook me up.  That night, I had a dream which I have always remembered, but which I have never fully understood until now.  The man in my dream was holding a little lamb, and then that lamb turned into me.  He said to me twice, ‘I love you, Amanda.’  I realize now that it was Jesus, Sarah.  He’s been looking after me all along without my even knowing Him.  How can I know Him?”

Sarah could hardly believe that Amanda was ready so soon for a relationship with Jesus, but then, maybe it had taken the Lord sixteen years to get her ready.  Sarah shared with Amanda the simple plan of salvation, how the Blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin, and about the wonderful gift of His Holy Spirit given to empower us to live the Christian life.

Amanda bowed her head and confessed what sins she knew of, having had only a brief introduction to herself as a sinner.  “Jesus, I have had self-pity and hatred in my heart.  Please forgive me and receive me as your child.”

Sarah grabbed her new sister in the Lord and hugged her tightly.  “Oh Amanda, God is so good!” she squealed as she squeezed her.  It was about an hour after Amanda had become a new creature in Christ Jesus that the girls fell asleep, happily exhausted.  They decided to wait until daylight to share the good news with the rest of the family.

When the twins did not stir by 1:00 p.m. the next day, Mrs. Gladstone went into their room to see just how dead asleep they were.  Sarah opened her eyes and smiled broadly at her mother.  “Good morning, Mother,” she said.

“Good afternoon,” her mother returned with a grin.  “Are you two planning to get up today or tomorrow?”

Amanda opened her eyes wide and declared, “Today, Mrs. Gladstone.  I wouldn’t miss today for anything!”

“Mother, I’d like to introduce you to your new sister in Jesus, Amanda Wellington,” announced a beaming Sarah.

“Oh, Amanda, how wonderful!” Mrs. Gladstone exclaimed.  She went over to Amanda’s bed and gave her a hug.  “Welcome to the family of God.”

“It feels so good to be alive this morning,” said Amanda.  “I feel like the burden of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“And it has been, Amanda,” added Mrs. Gladstone.  “It really has.  I can’t wait for you two to tell Rebecca.  May I have the privilege of telling Mr. Gladstone?”

“Oh, yes, please do,” Amanda replied.  Mrs. Gladstone left the room, and Amanda and Sarah got dressed for the day.  They found Rebecca in the kitchen making some sandwiches.

“Hope you guys like sandwiches for breakfast,” she said laughing.  “I just couldn’t face fixing eggs and toast at this time of day.”  Sarah pulled Rebecca from the kitchen into the living room and made her second introduction of the day.  Rebecca was thrilled to hear about her new sister.  It was a day of rejoicing throughout the whole Gladstone household.

Amanda spent her short holiday with the Gladstones just drinking in the pleasures of her new-found relationship with the Lord and with the whole Gladstone family.  She found herself as much at home with Rebecca and with Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone as she did with Sarah, and she learned much in those few days through all of them.

When the time came for her to leave, nobody wanted her to, least of all Amanda herself.  But she knew she had to go back to school.  The school year was almost over and exams would be coming up soon.  Perhaps she could come back for another visit then, they all hoped.

17

After Amanda had returned to St. Catherine’s, the Gladstones sought the Lord for direction as to where to go from here.  They knew that Amanda needed fellowship, and they already loved her as their own.  Perhaps Mrs. Wellington would agree to let Amanda spend her last year of high school with Sarah.  “Impossible,” they all decided.  But then God is Greater than the impossible.  And so one evening, they called Amanda at St. Catherine’s and shared the plan they believed the Lord had given them.

Amanda was ecstatic, but sobered a little when she considered what her mother would think.  Mrs. Wellington was a social-conscious, self-seeking woman.  Amanda had already damaged her mother’s reputation in some elite circles, who could not identify with nor appreciate Amanda’s televised comments concerning her natural mother.  If the Wellingtons allowed their daughter to leave St. Catherine’s to attend a Christian school in a small town, what would people say now?

And what would her parents think of her new relationship with Jesus?  In the short time that Amanda had been a Christian, she had already felt some resistance to her Christian testimony among her friends at school.  So now she didn’t know what reaction to expect from her parents.  She shared her concern with the Gladstones, who assured her that they would pray about the problem.

After talking with Sarah’s family, Amanda decided to wait until she went home for summer vacation to share her testimony with her parents and to ask them about living with Sarah and her family for the next school year.

The month of May had come and gone.  St. Catherine’s was closed for the summer and forever for Amanda.  She had shared her hopes for attending a Christian school and living with the Gladstones with Miss Longworth and had said a final good-bye to the headmistress whom she had come to respect and appreciate over the years that she had been a student at St. Catherine’s.

Miss Longworth, unlike many who had rejected Amanda’s Christian testimony, took note of Amanda’s “new life,” and of the obvious changes in her personality since she had returned from her visit with the Gladstones.  For one thing, she observed that Amanda seemed truly happy for the first time in the eight years that she had known her.  This radical change in Amanda was truly food for thought to Miss Longworth, who had no other life outside her work as headmistress at St. Catherine’s.  It made her feel strangely lonely to see Amanda leave the school for the last time.

Amanda had prayed herself many times during the final weeks of school about seeing her mother and daddy.  Now the time had come.  She flew home from St. Catherine’s to Bridgetown to be met at the airport by the chauffeur.  On the drive home, Amanda noticed once again the stained glass window she had seen many times in her childhood, but this time she smiled with recognition.

When she arrived at the family estate, her mother did not greet her at the door.  Amanda found her reading in the sitting room.  She came up beside her mother’s chair and kissed her lightly on the cheek, something she had never done before.  Her mother looked up, a little surprised at Amanda’s spontaneous show of affection, but nevertheless, keeping her cool.

“Hello, Mother,” said Amanda softly.  “I’m home.  I’m glad to see you.”  Mrs. Wellington just looked quizzically at her daughter who seemed somehow different.  “Is Daddy home?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, he’s in the den,” her mother replied carefully.  Amanda excused herself politely and tiptoed into the den.  “Hello, Daddy,” she said, giving him a little hug.  “I’m home.”

“So you are, Amanda,” remarked her father, peering a little nervously at her over his glasses.  “Did you have a good flight?”

“Yes sir,” she answered.  Mr. Wellington continued to eye his daughter curiously, as if to say: “What’s come over you?”

“Could I speak with you and Mother in the sitting room?” asked Amanda respectfully.

“Of course,” answered her father, hoping that what Amanda had to say would satisfy his curiosity about her strange behavior.  The two joined Mrs. Wellington in the sitting room, and Amanda shared with them as simply and sweetly as she could, the story of Jesus in her life.  Then she asked them to forgive her for offending them by her remarks at the American Miss Pageant.  “Will you forgive me, Mother?” Amanda asked sincerely.

“Yes,” replied her mother, not knowing what else to say since she had made it obvious to Amanda that she had indeed been offended.

“And you, Daddy?” added Amanda.

“Yes, Amanda,” answered her father rather uncomfortably.  Thus began the first real conversation Amanda had ever had with her parents.

That summer was much like the first sixteen solitary summers Amanda had spent in her home, but she used the rare occasions when her parents were present to live the Christian witness before them.

Fall was approaching rapidly and yet Amanda had not felt like the time was right to ask her parents’ permission to stay with the Gladstones for the coming year.  Finally, one day in August, Amanda felt strongly impressed that the time had come to ask them.

Mrs. Wellington answered Amanda’s request with an openness that almost startled her only daughter.  “Amanda, I have seen you change more this year than in any period of your life.  You seem, well… almost grown up.  Your father and I have tried to give you the best of everything, including an education.  But I will not stop you, should you choose to make this move.  Though I cannot understand your new values, I feel that you have matured enough to make your own decisions.  I’m sure your father would agree with me.”

“Oh, thank you, Mother,” cried Amanda.

Mrs. Wellington added simply, “You’re welcome, Amanda.”  But there was a trace of a smile on her usually cold countenance.  Amanda knew that it would be an uphill battle to bring her parents to the Lord, but she felt more ready, knowing that He was indeed the God of the Impossible.

18

Christian Academy would be opening in one week.  Amanda was anxious to be with the Gladstones, but at the same time relieved that she wouldn’t be far from her parents.  Two-hundred miles was a drivable distance in the car her parents had given her, and perhaps she and maybe even Sarah could visit from time to time.

The local newspaper had gotten wind by this time of the twins’ miraculous reunion.  They were especially anxious to do an interview with the girls when they found out that Amanda would be spending a year with the Gladstones.  The Gladstones shared the possibility of the interview with Amanda, but Amanda was quick this time to consider her parents’ feelings.  Both she and the Gladstones felt that she should find out what the Wellingtons thought of the idea.  If they agreed to the interview, then perhaps the Lord was leading in that direction.

When Amanda broached the subject of the interview with her mother, Mrs. Wellington cringed slightly in her heart.  But the new respect her daughter felt for her, and the fact that Amanda cared enough to ask her permission, gave Mrs. Wellington a small measure of respect for herself, something she desperately needed.  And so against her own wishes, she gave Amanda her consent.

When the newspaper story about Amanda and Sarah was printed in the local paper, it was immediately picked up by the Associated Press.  Thus the story was spread across the United States.  The twins did not fail to use the opportunity to speak the name of Jesus and to credit Him alone for their reunion.  The Associated Press, however, was not the only interested party in the story of the twins.

Paula Baker had for eighteen years been carrying the guilt of having given away her twin baby girls.  But their father had left her when he discovered that she was pregnant, and she was only nineteen at the time – too young, she thought, to be saddled with the responsibility as a single mother.  So she had decided on the plan of giving the babies away in baskets as the best solution.  That way, no one would ever know.  But she hadn’t considered the possibility that she would ever be vulnerable enough to tell the story herself.

It was all she could do the night of the pageant to keep from calling Amanda after she heard the greeting especially to her.  She was lonely, sick, and tired of trying to make a living.  All she had known thus far in life was going to work as a waitress and coming home and plopping down in front of the t.v., trying to escape her miserable existence.  But even though she was drawn by Amanda’s plea, she could not bring herself to tell her daughter who she was – especially in view of her present circumstances.  It would only bring Amanda down, and... well, it seemed like Amanda was making it in the world.

But the Associated Press story in the newspaper was too much of a temptation to resist any longer.  Paula was desperate.  Perhaps seeing the two of them would give her hope.  That’s one thing the girls’ reunion passed along to Paula – hope.  They had found it.  Maybe they could give her some.  So Paula gathered her tips for the day, called in sick, and recklessly set out for Baysville by bus, a five-hundred mile journey from the town in which she was living.

It was Saturday morning, six weeks into the new school year at Christian Academy.  Amanda was blossoming spiritually in the good soil of the Gladstone home.  Saturday morning was chore time for the Gladstones, and each member of the family, including Amanda, busied themselves with whatever task they saw needed doing.  Amanda was dusting the living room, and Sarah was vacuuming the hall, when Amanda thought she heard a knock at the door.

“Hey, Sarah, could you turn the vacuum off?  I think someone’s at the door,” Amanda called.  Sarah came into the living room just as Amanda answered the door.  The twins stared with astonishment at the poor, bedraggled woman standing in the doorway.  Paula Baker, feeling and looking much older than her thirty-seven years, spoke first.

“My name is Paula Baker,” she said shyly, and looking at both of them added, “I’m your mother.”  The girls looked at each other in bewilderment.  Surely, this was a hoax.  But neither girl knew how to handle the situation any other way than to invite the woman in and run for Mrs. Gladstone. But Mrs. Gladstone, alert mother that she was, had already joined the girls in the living room, and without hesitation, made Paula as at home as she knew how.

“Please come in, Mrs. Baker, and sit down.  Could I get you something, a glass of water perhaps?” Mrs. Gladstone had heard the woman’s introduction of herself and though she couldn’t discern the truth of the woman’s identity, she could discern her desperate need for help.

Paula reached into her purse and brought out identical hospital certificates and identification bracelets used in the babies’ first days to tell them apart.  “I figured after the newspaper article, you might think I was just making this up, so I brought these along.  The names are different from the ones I attached to your baskets.  I had to keep the authorities off my trail.  But the description is the same, and if you need further proof, you can have your thumbprint checked out.  It’s on the certificate the hospital gave me too.”

The girls needed no further proof.  The Lord opened their eyes to see that this was truly their natural mother.  Mrs. Gladstone, secure and confident in the Lord, was not threatened in the least by Paula’s appearance in their home.  She recalled the prayers, begun by Sarah years ago, that the family had prayed for Sarah’s natural mother.  Here in their living room sat the miraculous answer to those prayers.

The twins let Mrs. Baker know how glad they were that she had come, and Mrs. Gladstone was able to handle with wisdom any moments that might have otherwise been awkward.  Mrs. Gladstone urged Paula to stay with them for a few days and spend some time with the girls.  Paula could hardly refuse – she had no money left.

And thus it was that God reached down in His Mercy to intervene in the life of Paula Baker as well, lovingly drawing her to Himself, as only the Heavenly Father would.  Sarah and Amanda now had a new challenge and privilege ahead of them…  to lead their own natural mother into the waiting arms of Jesus.

19

The following year was a climactic one in many ways for both Sarah and Amanda.  This life in Jesus was all new to Amanda.  Her days were filled with learning new principles and with enjoying a fulfilling time just getting to know the Lord Who loved her.

Amanda also enjoyed going to a Christian school.  It was strange to have teachers and a principal who were Christians, but Amanda appreciated their sincere interest in her.  Having made straight A’s at St. Catherine’s she had no trouble doing just as well at the academy.  In fact, it turned out that she and Sarah were tied for senior class valedictorians at the end of the school year.

Graduation was a victorious moment for the twins, for the Gladstone family, and for the Heavenly Father.  In the audience at the graduation ceremony were Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone and Rebecca, all beaming with joy, Mr. and Mrs. Wellington, who had made time in their schedules to attend the high school graduation ceremonies of their only daughter, and Paula Baker, whom the twins had flown back from her hometown with the money they had earned babysitting on weekends.

Since Sarah and Amanda were co-valedictorians, they were to make a speech at commencement.  Amanda felt that Sarah should speak for both of them, but the twins stood side by side when it was time for the valedictory address.  Sarah’s voice rang out over the microphone clearly, as she spoke to the rows of people in folding chairs on the athletic field rented by Christian Academy for the occasion.

“Parents and friends, we are gathered here tonight not only to celebrate the completion of the high school careers of the graduating seniors at Christian Academy, but to pay tribute to those who have made it possible for us to spend these important years of our lives in a Christian atmosphere.  To our principal, to the teachers and to the parents and loved ones who have in any way supported us, we say thank you.

“Someone once wisely said, ‘I do not know what the future holds, but I know Who Holds the future.’ We graduates are embarking on yet another phase of our lives here on earth.  It is encouraging to know that the Lord of the Universe holds the future for those of us who choose to give our futures into His Loving Hands.

“I speak for my sister, Amanda, and others in this graduating class who have made that choice, in saying a special thank you tonight to Jesus, Who has made our futures secure both in the days to come and in the forever beyond.  Thank You JESUS!” Sarah’s voice rang out in victory.

In the audience, on the third row, a soft “amen” was heard from the lady with two pink carnations pinned to her dress.  It was Paula Baker.

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