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TITLE (EDIT)
No Crib For His Bed |
DESCRIPTION
A very touching and heartwarming story of God's love and miracles..
[847 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Spiritual |
AUTHOR
Seleta V Johnson |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[June 2004] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (7)
Don't Let Your Horseshoe Hit The Plum Tree (Short Stories) A funny little tale about a country teenager [854 words] [Humor]
Faded Paperdolls (Poetry) Looking back to days gone by. [176 words] [Relationships]
Little Dog Walking (Poetry) Tender poem about stray dogs. [101 words] [Animal]
Mama's Pocketbook (Poetry) A lady thinks back to life with her Mother. Sweet and touching poem. [306 words] [Relationships]
Prince And The Porch Swing (Short Stories) A heartwarming tale of a little girl and her dog.. [1,064 words] [Animal]
That Really Burn�S My Biscuits- On Both Sides!!! (Short Stories) A country girl� s look at life [755 words] [Humor]
The Tornado Man (Short Stories) A heartwarming tale about a child's faith in God. [1,060 words] [Spiritual]
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No Crib For His Bed
Seleta V Johnson
Since moving to Miami, or the magic city as it is sometimes called, I have seen a lot of things that I never saw in the little town in Tennessee, where I was born and raised. Lounging here on my nice warm bed, I listen to the rain falling down outside my window. It begins to pour with a thunderous roar and even my Rat Terrier is frightened. She quickly darts under the covers, as this is her safe haven from the storm. As the lightning is flashing off of the walls and ceiling of my modest little abode, I am shocked to see a shadow on the street. Who in their right mind would be out in weather like this? I peek under the shade as not to be spotted, and for a second I am totally dumb-founded at what my eyes are seeing. A thin outline of a man in dark ragged clothes is pulling cardboard boxes from the dumpster in front of my house. I watch as the rain drenches his frail body, and I am confused at what I see. But that confusion quickly turns to pity and I start to cry as I see what he does with the boxes. He sits down on the sopping wet ground and works as quickly as his soaked hands will let him. Ripping the cardboard boxes apart, he lines them up on the wet grass. With the lightning flashing and the thunder rolling all around, he lies back on the rain drenched ground and pulls the cardboard over the length of his head and body. This will be his bed for the night.
I suddenly think about the little baby born in Bethleham on that cold and lowly night so long ago. My tears are still splattering the front of my crisp white shirt as I begin to sing that old Christmas song, "Silent Night". Only, the words change in my head, and when they roll off of my tongue, they sound more like this...
Silent Night, Cold lonely night, Man in the street, No food to eat, Cold, wet and lonely, No crib for his bed, Wet sopping grass is where he laid his head, Sleep in Heavenly peace, Sleep in Heavenly peace.
I stopped singing and realized right then and there what I had to do. I was terrified but at the same time, someone seemed to be telling me that it would be alright. A higher power was pushing me to save the homeless man. So with umbrella in hand and a blanket under my arm, I ran out into the storm to help this creation of God. My terror was replaced with a strength that I never knew I was capable of having. I kept praying with every step I took, and I knew somebody was listening and pushing me onward.
The poor man was drenched to the bone and could barely move, but I managed to drag him to my doorstep. I opened the door and the stranger looked straight into my eyes with a fear that I had never seen before. He shook his head as if to say no, and I realized that he was just as frightened of me as I had been of him before. I gave him a warm smile as I wrapped the blanket tightly around his shoulders and slowly steered him over to the couch in the living room. At first he was very leery of me and my offering, but then I remembered my prayers earlier, and how God had pushed me to help the homeless man. So, I started to pray. As I prayed, I heard a beautiful voice begin to sing and when I opened my eyes, I realized it was the homeless man. And the song he was singing was what brought the tears flowing from my eyes once again. He was singing, "Silent Night", but not the way that I had ever heard it sang before. In the most beautiful voice that I think I have ever heard or ever will hear again, he sang it like this...
Silent Night, Lord i'm alright, I'm happy at last, Not dying in the grass, Your Angel has found me and she made me warm, I know in your goodness I'm free from all harm, Thank you for hearing my pleas, Now I'll sleep in Heavenly peace...
And with that song, the old man laid back on the couch and drifted off to sleep. As I watched him for a while, I noticed a cracked little smile had covered his thin frail lips, and his breathing had slowed to a standstill. I stood there stifling my tears as I prayed and asked God what was happening. All at once I saw a ray of light fill the room and like a mist of a gentle spring rain, it drifted over to the homeless man and stopped. I heard the sweet voices of Angels singing and I suddenly realized what was happening. The old man would never be homeless again, for God was calling his child home...
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READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"It was my greatest honor and privalige and HAPPINESS to be married to this GREAT LADY. She was all and more than her writings. I have NEVER known as loving and compassionate a person as she was. It was real, from her core. Not a speck of pretension in her . She passed very hard in our bedroom on May 25th of 2005 at 9:10 pm. She was surrounded by her friends and a terrible night it was truly. Almost three years has gone by and still I mourn. She was the only and last woman I will ever love. I just wait now till we can be together again, either in the next life, or at least dead together." -- Brian Burdick, Miami, usa, Fl.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 Seleta V Johnson |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
June 2004 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2004
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