Fine Linen, Finale

The movement stopped sometimes, and then went on. Fianlly it stopped and didn't start again. The linen rustled in anticipation. Would the hands take it out now? No. The sack was thrown into a dark corner, and there it lay.
They waited.
Strange sounds and smells surrounded them. Animals rustled and snuffled nearby. In the middle of the darkest darkness, there were frightening cries and groans. The cloth huddled, and waited.
Then -- it was happening! Hands opened the sack and drew out the cloth. But these were not the hands they knew! These were large hands, rough and hairy. Lina shivered fearfully.
That louder, deeper voice, the one they had heard before, said, "Is this it?"
And there was the voice they knew! "Yes."
Their beloved hands took them then, and unfolded them and smoothed them. Lina had never seen a look on the face like the look she saw now. It shimmered with such a love that she felt she would be happy to be even an old brown sack, if it made that face glow like that.
The hands spread the fine linen gently on a surface that rustled and poked. Then they laid something on the cloth. All the threads felt a shiver of excitement. It was a person! A tiny, red, wrinkled person who moved and kicked and made funny little sounds. The hands wrapped the cloth around and around the tiny body. Lina forgot all her worries and all her past. Suddenly nothing seemed more important, more exciting, no purpose could be greater than the one she now recognized. She and all the other fibers, working together, had been created for this one thing - to keep that soft, downy baby skin from touching the rough, scratchy hay. Lina snuggled close between the hands and the baby.
She was content.

The End

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Sixteen

Lina began to feel angry. She tried to drown the feeling and just enjoy the swayng ride, as she had learned to do. But the anger grew. It would have helped if she could see the face, but she couldn't. Or feel the hands. This was terrible. That was all. Terrible! Something the maker had proclaimed perfect and beautiful was to be packed away and forgotten! After all she - they - had been through!
Another long time passed. Days. Weeks? Maybe not, but it seemed like it. It was almost as bad as the early days after the plants had been torn from their field. Not because of physical pain, but because of emotional pain. Lina's anger seethed. Why should they have to just take it and take it and take it? The didn't even know what the purpose was yet! After all this time!
Some of the other threads felt the same way, but finally, quieter ones managed to have a say. They said everything they could think of to try to calm the others. One phrase stuck in Lina's mind. "The hands didn't do all this just to leave us now. It can't be for nothing. We just have to wait."
Wait! Again? Gradually, Lina calmed. Well, if nothing else, she knew how to wait. She knew, too, that the hands and the face, whether she could see them or not, were nearby. At last, she added her voice to the steady ones, and the length of linen settled with a sigh to wait. "We can imagine the face," she suggested. "We can see it in our minds. Surely it will smile again."
So they waited.

To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Fifteen

Lina had no idea how long had passed when the hands took up the cloth and held it up in the sunshine, turning it this way and that. She watched the face. Its smile seemed more glowing than ever.
"Beautiful! Perfect!" came a voice. "Fine linen, clean and bright!"
Perfect! The threads seemed to quiver in excitement. They were perfect?
The hands they had grown to love folded the cloth into a neat square and put it unto a sack made of coarser brown cloth. Then they crowded other things in on top of it. Lina was startled. More time in the dark? What was this?
The sack was tied closed and put on something that kept moving and jostling. It was almost like the old rides on carts, but not quite. For one thing, it didn't creak. And it was warm and rather soft, as if it were alive.
The cloth heard another voice, a different, deeper one. "Here, my love, let me help you up."
There was a shuffling and a sense of great upheaval. Lina tried to shift so she could see even a tiny pinch between the coarse threads of the sack. The others asked her what was happening. She wasn't sure, but she rather thought someone had climbed up beside them on - whatever it was they were tied to. The sack seemed crowded by a leg in blue wool cloth. (She found she had a new affinity for cloth of any kind.)
There was an even greater upheaval, and a steady movement began. And never stopped. On and on it went.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Fourteen

A sharp needle with a length of thread through its eye pierced the cloth over and over, all along its two ends where it had been tied to the rods. More suffering? The hands held the cloth close, so the threads endured in silence. But Lina began to feel the chill of fear once again. She had not felt this way for a long time now. What else was to come? Well, whatever it was, it would be worth it. The gentle face seemed to believe it, so Lina believed it.
The cloth was plunged into water, hot this time. It was beaten and rubbed with some kind of powder, then put into new water and beaten some more. Finally it was twisted and wrung, stretched out, and hung over some bushes in the sun. Lina and the other threads, which had shivered and huddled even more tightly to each other, relaxed in the warm, familiar light. It was better than a dark shelf, anyway!
They were left for a long time. Lina had learned to simply enjoy what there was to enjoy. The sun was woarming and whitening the cloth. The pale gold was fading away, and the linen grew whiter and whiter. Then hands turned them from time to time so they would all whiten evenly.

To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Thirteen

[My daughter is now all registered and oriented for college, and I'm pretty sure I have several more gray hairs! Back to work. . .]

But this time the wait didn't seem so long. The hands unwound the ball and began stretching thread back and forth, back and forth, between two long rods. They seemed to stretch for a very long distance. Lina liked the fact that for once she could see. She watched the others, but mostly the face, which moved intently back and forth. It took a lot of balls of thread.
Finally, the end was tied off, and the hands took still more balls of thread and began a new action. The thread was wound lengthwise on long sticks and threaded under and over and under and over the individual threads stretched between the rods. When the hands reached one side of the group, they would turn and go over and under, over and under. Then turn, and under and over again. Between each row, a long comblike object beat the rows tightly together.
It wasn't comfortable, but when compared with all Lina had been through, it was bearable. Besides, by now she was consumed by curiosity to see what on earth would be the final result of all these unbelievable happenings. And this time, she could keep her eyes on the face all the time. Now and then, it smiled, and ran a hand the length of the . . .
"Cloth! We're becoming cloth!" came the whisper.
"Fine linen cloth, for something beautiful!"
Lina felt a thrill of excitement. Who would ever have believed, when they all stood together in the field, waving blue blossoms, that they could become cloth? What would they be made into? A fine robe for a rich person? A wedding garment, perhaps?
As always, it took time. Days passed. Progress seemed slow. Every night when the hands stopped and the sun went down, Lina tried to stretch to see how many more inches of cloth had been created. Not many, she thought.
But at last the day came when the hands cut the long swath of linen from the rods. They were finished! And beautiful! And valuable!

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Twelve

[I've been gone, then unwell, then overwhelmed by busyness. . . D'ja miss me? :-)]

At last, they felt the rod turning again, but this time something was different. They were being unrolled from the rod. Lina stretched and breathed deeply. Better!
But no. They were rolled up again, as tightly as before, and laid on yet another shelf.
Lina sighed. On second thought, she tried to decide if she would rather have things happening to her than to lie around waiting all the time.
She had not yet decided which she preferred when the hands came for them again. Two rolls of thread were taken from the shelf. Their ends were tied together, and once again they were set swinging and twirling, this time in the opposite direction from the last time. The two threads twisted together to make one stronger thread. Lina had long since made friends with the fibers which were now one with her, and she found she rather enjoyed the feeling of the hands running the length of the thread, smoothing, guiding, controlling the twist.
Then they were rolled up into balls again. "Oh, well," they murmured to each other. "Waiting time again."

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Eleven

A long time passed. The rod rolled and stopped, rolled and stopped. The new threads shifted against each other. Lina had plenty of time to think over all that had happened to her. This waiting was almost like the time she had spent underwater, or drying in the field. In fact, aside from the terrible beating, it seemed most of her life had been made up of waiting. At least this time was not as terrible as some of the others.
The threads began to whisper together again. After awhile, it was almost as cozy as the time on the dark shelf. Lina learned that - according to some of the fibers, who had overheard it from someone else - they were now linen thread, and that linen thread was the strongest and most useful thread of all.
"We'll be made into something beautiful," they whispered.
"Will be?" demanded Lina. "We already have been. At least we were beautiful! Now, I'm not so sure."
"There's more, " came the reply. "They're not finished with us yet."
More? Lina wasn't sure she could handle any more.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Ten

Lina was surprised and a little disturbed when the hands began to pull apart the carefully shaped cone of fibers. Just a few fibers at a time, but enough to disarrange them and make them less appealing to the eye. She watched carefully. One hand would dip into a little pot of liquid, then pull a few fibers from the cone. The other hand held a strange, thin rod with a clay disc at the bottom and a thread twisted around its stem. The hand with the fibers somehow attached them to the thread and then set the rod spinning, hanging on the thread. Then the hand pulled out a few more fibers.
Spin. . .pull. . .spin. . .pull. . .
Thread! That was it - the hands were making thread from the fibers. Lina was disappointed. What was so important or beautiful about thread? She felt a tug. Her own fibers were starting to be pulled into the twist. But they were mixed up with someone else's fibers. Surely that was a mistake! She resisted and pulled, trying not to become inextricably entwined with fibers that were different from her own, but it was no use. As always, Lina was powerless to stop or change what happened to her.
There was a jerk, and a lump appeared. "Just as I suspected," Lina thought irritably.
The hands tugged, and a sharp fingernail picked at a short piece of fiber, smoothing out the rough spot. Lina grew dizzy as she spun ever faster toward the rod with the whirling disc. The disc stopped, to her relief, but the next thing she knew, Lina and all the other fibers were rolled up tightly around the rod just above the disc. It was uncomfortably tight and stuffy. She felt sure she would suffocate. She had always enjoyed the company of other flax plants, and lately of other rolls of fine fiber, but really. This was carrying togetherness too far!

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Nine

One day the hands came again. They sorted through the piles of fiber and picked out several of the longest loops, including Lina. Carrying them out into the sunshine, the hands tied the fibers all together at the top. Curious, Lina watched the face, as was now her habit. It was smiling, so she looked at herself and the other fibers, trying to see what the face saw. To her surprise, she and the other flax plants, once tall, strong individuals standing next to each other in a sunny field, had now become one hank of pale, silky gold, sliding and shimmering through the hands that once had hurt them, but now caressed them.
Lina thought about the first time she had recognized her new self, after the beating, but before the combings. She had thought she was beautiful then. Now she (and the others, of course) were even lovelier. She waited with some nervousness, but mostly with eagerness, to see what would happen next. The hands went through some complicated maneuvers, laying out the fibers in thin layers, then crisscrossing them and rolling them around a cone of some sort, wrapping them with ribbons, and putting them on a stand. They were as tall as the person now.
Lina and the others smiled at each other with deep satisfaction. This was more like it! Now they would delight the eyes of all beholders, as they used to do in their lost field, instead of languishing on a dark shelf!
Privately, Lina thought it was a little crowded, but together, she and the others were a fine sight, and the rumor had now been proven at least partially true. They were beautiful, if not valuable. She sighed with relief.

To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire
Note to faithful readers: I have been gone several days, and will be gone for a week, and am not sure I will have internet access. So you may not hear from me for awhile. Aren't you glad you aren't left hanging on some horrible cliffhanger? :-)

Fine Linen, Chapter Eight

The next thing Lina knew, the hands were carrying her toward a horrifying set of teeth, rows of teeth, sharper and fiercer than those that had stolen her seeds. A thrill of fear overtook her again. She flinched as she was flung over them and dragged through. Once again, parts of herself were torn away - shorter fibers which the person who worked with her collected and kept.
By now, Lina thought there might be a purpose to all this torture, so she tried to endure it bravely. But every time she sighed with relief, thinking it was finally over, she was taken to another set of teeth, finer and closer together than the ones before. Oddly enough, the combing hurt less than she expected it to. She began to watch the face above her. When it smiled, all her troubles were bearable.
It seemed an eternity since she had stood in her field in the sun, gossiping with the other plants.
Finally, she was looped into a twisted postion that would have been impossible in the old life, and laid on a shelf next to other loops of fiber. Left to themselves, they began to talk and whisper together, comparing experiences.
Some had gone through more than others. Some were short, some were long. Some were slick and shiny, others not so much. But one thing they all had in common. By listening carefully, they had learned that they were an entirely new thing. It seemed they were no longer flax. Now they were something called linen. They all agreed that it was a wonderful thing to be, and that their troubles had been worthwhile. They were, indeed, more beautiful than they had ever been, even in bloom. Yet here they were, piled together on a dark shelf. Was that it? Weren't they to be seen and appreciated?
It was all very hard to understand. Lina gave it up and awaited developments.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Seven

At long, long last, the beating slowed and stopped. Lina gradually became aware that something new was happening. She was being pulled slowly through hands that, for once, felt gentle. Fingers combed through her and picked out a bit of chaff here and there.
And the face that bent over her - the face was smiling!
Lina looked down at herself. She felt dizzy with shock. She was - she was - she didn't know what she was! She was something new entirely, something she had never seen before. Gone was her hard outer stalk, and gone, too, her stiff inner core. What was left was a drift of long, golden fibers that flowed and rippled in the gentle hands that turned her this way and that. The fingers could sift right through her. It was a strange sensation, but at least it didn't hurt, even when they found and removed another bit of stalk that still clung to her.
Lina couldn't believe it. Had the old rumor been true, after all?

To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Six

One day, the people came back. Lina watched with growing curiosity as they gathered the bundles of dried flax plants and piled them on the cart yet again. She could not imagine what they could want with dried, dead brown stalks, but clearly they had some purpose in mind. People were mysterious creatures at best, but they surely wouldn't do all this work for nothing. This time as she jounced along in the cart, she actually felt some stirrings of anticipation for her fate.
But when they reached their destination, and armloads of flax were taken off the cart, she began to hear strange and frightening sounds. There was a loud, repeated banging that went on and on. Under the clatter, she could just make out a sort of rustling and cracking. She began to shiver again, and when the hands came for her, dread seized her.

The truth was far worse than she had imagined. She was laid across a hard, uneven surface and beaten again and again, methodically, from one end to the other and back again.

Why? Why? What joy could these people possibly take in this pointness torture? If Lina could have screamed, she would have. But as always, she was powerless to do anything but endure. The face that leaned above her, sweating from the hard labor, showed neither pleasure nor pain. It scanned her length imperturbably, then hands turned her and beat her some more.

Finally, broken in a million pieces, Lina was taken off the hard surface and flung over a different one. She was too battered and spent even to feel fear. But no, the beating wasn't over. This time the pounding was accompanied by scraping with a hard, flat blade of some kind. She could feel the broken piarts of herself chipping and breaking away. Over and over, she was flung this way and that, pummeled and scraped. More and more of her very self was lost. It seemed to go on forever.

To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,

Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Five

When the creaky cart came again, Lina didn't even complain. She looked forward with some curiosity to what would happen next. Perhaps there really was a purpose to all these things, even though it would clearly not result in anything beautiful! She had never felt less beautiful.
The wet plants were taken out of the water and piled on the cart. Then it rattled and groaned its way to whatever came next. Lina waited while bunches of dripping plants were carried away. When her turn came, she was astonished to find herself tied with many other plants in a bundle and propped in the chill sun in their own old familiar field! There were the blue hills, and the road, and the whitewashed houses. When the people had left and the breeze began to dry the flax, they whispered among themselves again, for the first time in a long time.
"Why?"
That was the uppermost question. What had been the purpose of all these terrible experiences, only to be put back in the same field where they had been born? They had already been standing here, doing perfectly well, minding their own business, and delighting the eyes of all who passsed. Now they were only ugly brown, half-rotted stalks. They couldn't even stand without being tied together. What was the point?
"Well, at least," said Lina, "we're in the sun again! And standing, more or less. That's something."
And the other plants agreed that it was.
So they stood and basked. But they began to feel their skin, which had been so strong and flexible, peeling and cracking in the sun and wind. It got worse and worse - some pieces actually chipped off and blew away - but no one came to do anything about it.
And time rolled on.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Four

Lina barely noticed when this cart started up with a jerk and rolled somewhere else. She awaited her destiny in silence.
The cart stopped in a place where the air was filled with a strange rippling sound. Yet again, hands came for the headless flax plants. What now? Were they going to throw them away?
It was a greater shock than all those before when Lina found herself plunged under cold water and left to drown. All the other plants were lined up near her, and the people had left. Nobody whispered silly rumors. Nobody said anything. There was nothing they could do but give up and wait for the slow-moving water to finish them.
Time passed. The sun came and went. Sometimes someone would come and turn all the plants with a fork, and pick some up and look at them. It occurred to Lina to wonder why the people were taking all this trouble over dead stalks. Was there, in fact, still some use for them?
After awhile, she grew to almost like the gentle movement of the water. It was much like the swaying of the wind she had loved all her life.
She felt herself growing thick and soft.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

Fine Linen, Chapter Three

After a long time, rough hands picked up the pile of flax in which Lina was buried. Together, the plants were all carried somewhere in a creaking, jolting cart. One by one,they were taken off the cart and away. Lina shivered as she waited and wondered. What now?
Finally the hands came for her. They carried her to an evil-looking comb with long, sharp teeth, and to her despair, they dragged her though the teeth, removing the one good thing she had left - all her seeds. Her seedhead had been Lina's pride and joy, nourished and fed through the late summer. She had given up her beautiful blue blossoms for those seeds. Now they were gone, and she was an empty shell - just a dead, brown stalk.
She was thrown on a different cart with other headless stalks, and lay there, dazed.
It didn't matter now what happened to her.

To be continued. . .
Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire

All material copyright 2000 Debbonnaire Kovacs. No copying or sharing without permission.

Fine Linen, Chapter Two

One day, excitement floated again. People came, many people, colorfully garbed and laughing. Lina lifted her heavy head. What would happen now? The people spread out through the field, calling to each other and singing. They bent and straightened, bent and straightened. It was some time before Lina could see what they were doing, and when she did see, a shock of dismay ran right down to her roots. They were killing the flax! They leaned down grasped a plant near the ground and pulled, jerking it out, roots and all, and throwing it on a pile. Then they moved methodically on to the next.
Lina shivered with terror. The songs and bright clothes took on a sinister meaning. The golden sun, which had felt so warm and nurturing, now seemed only distant and unconcerned. What could she do?
Nothing, of course. Nothing at all.
A woman came down her row, bending and jerking, bending and jerking. Lina's neighbor. Then Lina. She felt a dreadful rending as her roots tried to cling to the warm, familiar soil, and then a shock as she landed on the pile.
And that was that. The end. Obviously, she would never be beautiful again, let alone valuable.
More plants landed on top of Lina, and the sun disappeared in darkness and the smell of death.
The rumor had been just that - a lie.

To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire
all material copyright Debbonnaire Kovacs, 2000. No copying or sharing without permission.

Fine Linen, Bright and Clean, Chapter One

Once upon a time, long ago and far away. . .
a field of flax waved and nodded in the sun. A whisper of excitement had come down the cool breeze. The flax plants leaned toward each other in order to hear better.
". . . something beautiful!" came the whisper. "Something radiant and fine!"
A particularly tall and graceful flax plant - we'll call her Lina - bobbed urgently. "What?" she rustled to her neighbor. "What are they saying?"
"It's some kind of opportunity," the neighbor replied. "We can be made into something fine and beautiful."
"We're already beautiful," Lina pointed out, looking over the sea of dancing blue blossoms.
Her neighbor bounced a shrug. "Well, I don't know. That's what they say. Something even more beautiful, and extremely valuable."
"Valuable?" Lina swayed thoughtfully. It would be nice to be special and valuable.
Over the next days and weeks the rumors grew and faded like the weather - sometimes lively and energetic, sometimes dull or silent altogether. Lina only knew that if the opportunity came to her, she would take it.
Blue petals fell into the wind, and seed pods swelled. The weather and the flax felt heay and lethargic. Perhaps it had been only a rumor, after all.
To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire
all material copyright 2000 by Debbonnaire Kovacs. No copying or sharing without permission.

Transplant Bible passages

It's taken me years to accept that although God does not cause the bad things that happen to me, it is truly His hand that is wielding my circumstances, good, bad, and indifferent, to shape me into the person He wants me - needs me - to be. And that I have a choice in this process. I can stop it and go in a different direction at any time.
This story is very autobiographical. People who know me well will know what some of the knives were, and how I screamed. Some of them were my own sins. As you read, can you see that some of the things that are so painful in your life, and seem so pointless, are being handled by a gentle and expert Surgeon who knows and loves you like no other?

For those who would like deeper study, here are some Bible texts for the different elements of the parable we have just finished.

• The surgery: Ezekiel 11:19; 36:26; Psalm 51:10
• The instruments: Romans 8:28; Isaiah 64:8; Jeremiah 18:1-12; Isaiah 54:16-17
• Pain medication: Psalm 30:11; 50:14-15; 51:8; 56:8-13; Isaiah 61:3; Philippians 4:4-6
• Emergency room nurses and EMTs: Leviticus 19:34; Isaiah 32:1-2; 35:3-4; 40:1-2; Galatians 6:1; Hebrews 5:1-2
• Exercises: Psalm 18:29; 119:32; 150; Isaiah 40:29-31; II Corinthians 5:7; Hebrews 12:1-2
• Breathing Exercises: (Prayer is the breath of the soul.) Psalm 55:17; Danial 6:10; Matthew 26:41; Mark 13:33; John 17; Romans 12:12; I Corinthians 7:5; Ephesians 6:18; Philippians 4:6; Colossians 4:2; I Thessalonians 5:17
• Daily anti-rejection medicine: John 15:4; I Corinthians 15:30; II Corinthians 3:18; 4:7-10

I hope you have enjoyed the story. Coming next:

Lina is a flax plant, growing happily in the sun, minding her own business, when she hears a rumor that she can be made into "something beautiful." Isn't she already beautiful? Does she want or need to be even more beautiful? Well, why not?

What happens next is shocking. . .

Repairing the Breach,

Debbonnaire

Transplant, Final Chapter

Every week since we had had our surgeries, we heart patients all gathered in the throne room of God to sing His praises with the angels, and thank Him for making us new. We drank the water of life, and washed our robes in the purity provided by the sacrifice the Son had made for us. We always left feeling completely refilled with joy and life and peace.
One day, after one of these meetings, I looked at Jesus and saw that He was gazing at something far away. His face, instead of reflecting joy, was wet with tears. Surprised, I went closer to Him, and followed His gaze. Far away, I saw the black fog that covered the pits of hell. I shivered.
"Can't you hear them?" Jesus whispered.
Straining my ears, I finally heard what He heard, weeping and hopeless sobbing. I remembered what that felt like, and tears came to me, too. I glanced behind me at the crowd of singing heart patients and thought, Those poor hurting people could be here with us.
"Will you go?" asked Jesus quietly.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm afraid."
"I know, but I will be with you."
"Lord," I said hesitantly, "Forgive me, but. . . You were with me last time, and I was still scared, and it still hurt."
"Yes," was all He answered.
I sighed. "Will You hold my hand?"
Looking up, I saw His smile was back
"What a silly question! So. . . will you go with Me?"
I folded my hand inside His. "Okay," I said.
I have a feeling. There is at least one thing I have caught onto, in all these years.
I don't think the story is over.

The End

Tomorrow, for those who are interested, I will post the Bible passages that go with Transplant, along with some thought questions. If you wish to purchase a copy of the booklet, contact me. Remember, this is copyrighted material and may not be copied or published in any manner without permission from me.

Happy Easter! May the Dayspring from on high rise in your hearts and repair all your breaches!

Debbonnaire

Transplant, Chapter Ten

Quietly He would ask, "Have you been taking your medicine? Are you eating and drinking properly and doing your breathing exercises?"
I would have to hang my head and admit that I was not. So together, we would start again. It even happened that I had to go back to the hospital for some reconstructive surgery or special therapy. Then Jesus would ask again. "Will you go back with Me?"
But I couldn't. I just couldn't even think abut that horrible pit of darkness and fear, let alone go back there! Yet I didn't want to disobey. "I'll think about it," I would tell Him.
"Then come on some shorter journeys with Me," He invited.
So I did. I found out what incredible joy it is to tell others about the new heart Jesus offers, and to let them feel my pulse, and watch me walk and run. If they said anything like "You're so good at that!" I would hastily say, "Oh, no, it's all Jesus! He did surgery on me, and gave me a new heart. You should have seen how faint and weak I used to be! Even now, if I don't take my medicine, I start getting sick and dizzy."
If I had to , to make them believe me, I would pull back just the edge of the collar of my robe and show them part of my scar. But I never showed anyone the whole ugly thing.
It was starting to bother me more and more. How could I refuse Him anything, the one Person who had been willing to give up His life for me? When I caught a glimpse of His face, through the love there shone a little wistfulness, and it made me so sad, I found myself looking at His face less often.
Then I was really miserable.
To be continued. . .

Repairing the Breach,
Debbonnaire