Children’s Story

Children’s Corner – Carl’s Garden, Part III

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[The story to now: Carl was a World War II veteran who lived in an inner city community. He volunteered to care for a garden at the local community church. While working in the garden, he was twice assaulted by members of a gang. He would offer the young men a drink of cool water from his hose, but he never defended himself or retaliated. The leader of the gang returned one day with a paper bag containing the personal items that had been stolen from Carl. When Carl died, this young man responded to the need for someone to care for Carl’s garden at the church.]

The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. During that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community, but he never forgot his promise to Carl’s memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.

One day he approached the new minister and told him that he could not care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, “My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she is bringing him home on Saturday.”

“Well, congratulations!” exclaimed the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. “That is wonderful! What is the baby’s name?”

“Carl,” came the reply.

That is the whole gospel message simply stated.

From a Strictly Mathematical Viewpoint

What equals 100 percent? What does it mean to give more than 100 percent? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100 percent? We have all been in situations where someone wants us to give over 100 percent. How about achieving 101 percent? What equals 100 percent in life? What equals 101 percent? Carl gave 101 percent. What do you give?

Here is a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

If:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Then:

K-I-N-D-N-E-S-S = _____ percent,

but

A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E = _____ percent,

and look how far the love of God will take you:

L- O- V- E-O-F-G-O-D = _____ percent.

Surely Carl showed the love of God!

“If we abide in Christ, if the love of God dwells in the heart, our feelings, our thoughts, our actions, will be in harmony with the will of God.” Conflict and Courage, 359.

“Persons of little talent, if faithful in keeping their hearts in the love of God, may win many souls to Christ.”Christian Service, 101

Children’s Story – Even the Winds Obey Him

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World War I had just ended, but there was still trouble in many places in Europe. Groups of soldiers were making their way toward their homes, and violence was common.

In a certain village lived a good Christian family who loved God and served Him faithfully. One day, soldiers appeared outside the village. More and more soldiers kept coming until they surrounded the town and were camped all around the countryside. They were placed so that they could shoot anyone who tried to leave the village. They demanded food. They took what they wanted, and then they set fire to the town.

The houses in that village all had thatched straw roofs. The weather had been very dry, and a strong wind was blowing. The whole town was rapidly being burned. The flames grew larger and larger as the wind drove the fire straight toward this Christian family’s house!

“Father, what shall we do?” the mother and the children asked. “Let’s run! Otherwise, we will surely die!”

“If we run out of the house, the soldiers will kill us,” the father answered. “I believe God will protect us, for He has promised never to leave us or to forsake us no matter what may come.”

Then Father and Mother and the children all knelt down and began to pray. As they prayed, the fire came closer and closer. Before long, the house next to theirs began to burn. The fire came within two feet of their roof. But they kept on praying.

Suddenly, they heard a strange sound. They stopped praying and looked out the windows to see what it was. They saw that the wind had changed and was blowing right away from their house. It was blowing so strongly that the fire could not touch them. God had heard their prayers. They were saved!

“I know there is a God in heaven and that He hears the prayers of His children,” the father said. “We are never in danger when the Lord is with us.”

Surely, even the winds obey Him (Matthew 8:27).

Storytime, Character-building Stories for Children, 80, 81.

Children’s Story – She Dared to Save the Bibles

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Linh Dao was only ten years old, but she already knew that following Jesus could be dangerous. That was because she lived in Vietnam, where the Communist leaders did not allow Christians to share their faith with others. Nor did they allow people to read the Bible together.

But Linh’s family had a lot of Bibles hidden in their home. Her father was the pastor of an “underground church” that had to meet in secret. He knew that they might all be caught and killed whenever they met together. But that did not stop these brave Christians, for they loved God even more than their own lives. So they continued to read their Bibles and worship God together.

But the police found out about the Bibles. One scary day, four officers burst into Linh’s home. They forced her father to sit and watch while they searched everywhere for Bibles.

Linh loved God’s Word. She just could not let the officers take all the Bibles away. So, while the police searched her home and questioned her parents, the brave girl hid Bibles in her school backpack. One of the officers noticed the little girl. “What is in there?” he asked, looking at her backpack.

She hesitated for a moment. She did not want to lie, but if she told him about the Bibles, he would take them all. What should she do? God gave her an answer. “There are books for children,” she replied.

The policeman turned away. But the four officers had found the rest of the Bibles, and they arrested her father. He was sentenced to hard labor and “re-education.” The government did not want him to think like a Christian or to share his faith with others. They wanted him to be just like them. He had to be “brainwashed.” They would try all kinds of cruel tricks to force him to turn from God and trust the government instead.

When Linh’s neighbors heard about her father’s arrest, they believed he was a criminal, but Linh was proud of her dad. “He is a Christian,” she told everyone. She explained that as a follower of Jesus, he had to keep telling others about God’s love—even when it meant persecution.

Each day, Linh prayed for her father. Finally, she and her mother and sister were allowed to visit him in the prison, but they could only see him through a chain-link fence. Linh looked for a way to get closer to her dad, and found a spot where she could squeeze her little body through a chained gate. Once inside the prison yard, she ran up to her father and hugged him. The guards watched, but they did not stop or hurt her. God kept her safe.

Afterwards, Linh kept praying that God would use her father to show His love in the prison. He answered her prayer in wonderful ways. Since Linh’s family had smuggled him a pen during their visit, her father could write Bible verses on cigarette paper. Soon, the prisoners were passing his “cigarette sermons” from cell to cell. Many of the lonely men, who had been beaten and tortured, learned to know God and His wonderful love in the midst of their suffering. Instead of “re-education” to be obedient to the government, they learned to love Jesus as their Shepherd and Friend. Satan wanted to destroy them, but God brought a great victory!

People who reject God also reject God’s people. People who love the Bible make them angry: “I have given them thy word; and the world hath hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.” John 17:14. Read also Matthew 5:10–12.

Children’s Story – Don’t Get Burned

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I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. One of the dumbest was nearly burning my house down.

I was melting wax to make candles while my parents were at work. I knew that I needed to put the can of wax in a water bath to keep it from burning. But I was too impatient to wait that long.

My sister was watching a video in another room. I sat down to watch with her while I waited for the wax to heat up, totally forgetting about my candle project. The video was almost over when I noticed smoke drifting past me. I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t noticed that my wax had caught fire!

When I ran into the kitchen, I saw flames leaping four feet high and almost touching the ceiling. “Keri,” I yelled, “there’s a fire on the stove!”

Before Keri got into the kitchen I turned the gas off at both the stove and the gas cylinder. I was scared that the gas tank was going to explode!

Keri shouted for me to throw baking soda on the fire, but that seemed to make the flames jump higher. I started to get tongs to carry the can outside. I’ll just let the fire die out, I thought. But before I could return to the flaming can, Keri had tossed a pitcher of water on the fire. It put the fire out but also threw stinky wax (the baking soda made it smell bad) all over the walls, ceiling, stove, and Keri!

It took the two of us four hours to clean up the wax, but smoke stains on the kitchen ceiling still remind me of when I tried to rush candle making.

I’ve also gotten others to do dumb stuff. Where we live, we put trash in big pits to keep it from looking bad or blowing away. Our nextdoor neighbors had just dug a new pit to burn leaves and grass in. As soon as it was finished, Keri and I went over to play in it.

The next day we returned to the pit to play some more. We looked in and saw ashes instead of trash in the bottom of the pit. We thought it was just a thin layer of ash and had already cooled down, but neither of us wanted to jump in first. Suddenly Keri said, “I dare you to jump in.”

“You’ll have to jump in first,” I responded.

I didn’t expect her to actually jump, but she did. As soon as her feet touched the ashes, she began screaming and trying to crawl back out.

I pulled Keri out by her arms, leaving her sandals in the pit. I carried her home on my back, and she started soaking her feet in cold water while I ran the eighth of a mile to the hospital to get my mom. After that I went back to the pit to see if I could get Keri’s sandals. The soles had melted off.

Keri’s feet have healed now, but we still remember both of these incidents. They remind us to think things through before doing things that might hurt others or ourselves.

Children’s Story – When the Bandit Chief Paid a Debt

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Way back in the hill country of China, many days’ journey from the coast, lived Dr. Walter Judd, a young American physician who had gone to China in search of an opportunity to use his education and his skill. He had been assigned to the hospital in Shawou.

When he first went to Shawou, there was a Christian Mission in the city, and several missionaries were already at work. Then the bandits came sweeping through valleys, and the missionaries were ordered by the government to leave their homes and their work and go to the coast, where they could be protected.

Since Dr. Judd did not have a family, he told the other missionaries he would stay in Shawou and try to protect the Mission property. He felt that he was needed among the native Christians. So he was left behind.

The bandits soon came swarming into Shawou. They looted the village and the Mission Station. Being an American citizen, Dr. Judd was apparently free, but he knew that he was continually being watched and that he would pay with his life for any trouble he might cause.

The head of the bandits in that region was Chief Lu Hsin-Ming, a very cruel and wicked man. He was ignorant and degraded. Human life to him meant nothing at all. By his brute force he held his company of nearly a thousand men. Every day they looted and made the life of the residents of Shawou miserable.

One day Lu Hsin-Ming was taken violently ill. He took Chinese medicine, and it did him no good. He grew steadily worse. At last he came to the hospital to be cared for by Dr. Judd, and in a little while he was well again. While he was ill, he had a good chance to watch the young doctor and to feel his kindness and his skill. He saw that he was brave and unselfish, and he admired him.

On New Year’s Day, a man came secretly to him from the bandit camp, saying, “I must tell you something, Doctor. The army of the Nationalists is only 20 miles away, and we must flee to the hills. We are going tonight, for I heard the men talking about it. They are going to take you. They will take many of the women also, and then they will demand ransom. They plan to loot the city again before they go. You are too ill to go. I told you because you have been kind to us.”

Dr. Judd thanked him, but there was nothing he could do. Slowly the time went by and evening came.

About seven o’clock, Lu Hsin-Ming himself came to the dispensary. He sat down, and Dr. Judd waited for the order to go. Instead the bandit chief said: “Dr. Judd, we are leaving town tonight. I was going to take you along, as you have probably guessed. I am not going to take you. You have been fair with us. You have willingly and faithfully cared for my men and me. You are not doing it for money. I do not really know why you do it. You have been sick, and if you had to live as we shall have to do, you would soon die. You can do good work, so I am not going to take you.” The men shook hands, and Lu Hsin-Ming went out to command the retreat.

That night, after all the stores were tightly closed, Lu Hsin-Ming gave the order to march. Not a shop was looted; not a woman was taken along. Lu Hsin-Ming was repaying fairness and kindness with fairness and kindness, and Dr. Judd’s life was safe.

Children’s Story – The Lost Bag

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Many years ago, when I was a little girl, the Lord taught me a very important lesson. I have not forgotten it because it made a very big impression on me. You might find the story very funny, but for me it was very serious at that time.

When I was young, my parents did not have much money. We always had enough to eat and clothes to wear, but there was not enough money to buy new clothes very often. Actually, it was very seldom when we would get any new clothes. We usually wore whatever we inherited from cousins or friends.

One day I was happy, though. It was New Year’s Eve, and that has always been a family evening at my home. We would have a special dinner and then we would worship together. After that we would give each other presents. That night I got a new pair of tights made of a special kind of wool, for winter time. I was so excited that I had gotten something new to wear, something that no one else had used first. It was special for me.

But before long a tragedy happened. That winter was terribly cold, with lots of snow. We lived on a farm in the country, and one day there was so much snow that we couldn’t drive away from our farm with the car. My mother, who worked in the laundry at the Seventh-day Adventist college, had to go to work, so my father took her the six kilometers on the tractor.

Since Mommy worked in the laundry, we did not have a washing machine at home; she just always took our clothes with her to work and washed them there. That day our clothes were in the laundry and we needed to get them home. Daddy put them in a big bag and took them home on the tractor. When he reached the farm there was no bag on the tractor any longer. What had happened to it? It must have fallen off somewhere in the snow. Daddy went back to search for it but he didn’t find anything. What a tragedy! It was especially sad for me because my new tights were missing. Oh, I could have cried. After all this time I had received something new, and now it was lost.

Later that day, after the road was ploughed, my brothers and sister and I started out for school on our bicycles. We had to ride on the same road that father had driven on with the tractor that morning. All the way to school I looked carefully beside the road for the bag, but I did not see it anywhere. One day, two days, three days passed by, but I still could not find the bag, and I decided that someone must have stolen it. A whole week passed by, and I was very sad. Finally, I knelt down and prayed to God. We had already been praying to God that He would help us find the bag, but this was different. I told God how much I wanted my tights back, but I also told Him that if it was not His will, then I would accept it. After that prayer I was much happier. I had accepted whatever would happen and had laid it in the Lord’s hands. The same day, on the way home from school, I had a big surprise. There beside the road, I saw the bag under some small bushes. I was overwhelmed with joy. Quickly, I went home and told Daddy to go and get the bag.

Why hadn’t I seen the bag earlier? For one week we had all been passing by the bag two times a day, but had not seen it. I believe the Lord wanted to teach me a very important lesson, one which I would never forget. When we pray, we should say, “Thy will be done.” Before the Lord answered my prayer, my will had to be surrendered to His will. May the Lord help you always to surrender your will to His.

Children’s Story – Angel of Mercy

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The night air was thick with the smell of gun powder, and the stars were drowned out by the smoke still polluting the air of Chantilly battlefield. A tiny figure in skirts and bows moved in and out among the wounded soldiers, wrapping wounds and bringing water to the battered men lying at her feet. The nurse was huddled over a young soldier giving him a glass of water when she felt a tug on her skirt.

“Ma’am,” said the feeble voice behind her.

Clara turned to see the war torn face of yet another young soldier injured in the battle.

“Yes?” she replied.

“Ma’am, do you not recognize me?” He asked in a shaky voice.

“I apologize, but I do not.” Clara searched the face for any feature she may recognize under the many bandages. “Praise be!” she exclaimed. “Why Markus, I did not recognize you. You have changed much over the years!”

“I am much comforted by seeing you, Miss Barton. I still remember the day you beat me in the school race. I was so arrogant! I never thought that such a small school teacher could outrun one of her students. You sure taught me a lesson!”

“And I remember the look on your face as you crossed the finish line after me. I had never seen any face so red except my own!” Clara responded as she adjusted a bandage on Markus’ arm. Just as she was doing so, the sleeve on Clara’s dress shivered and she looked down to find a bullet hole through the lace. Turning back to Markus, she found him still.

This was the reality facing the young Clara Barton. Growing up, she was a painfully shy girl. In fact, she was so shy that she would often be unable to eat at the dinner table when guests were visiting her family. She was very bright, learning to read by the age of four. Two of her older siblings were teachers and assisted in her education. And, growing up on a farm, she soon was a first rate horseback rider.

To cure her of her terrible shyness, her family sent Clara to a boarding school for girls, believing that she would be forced to overcome her bashfulness if she was on her own away from home. But she was so timid she could not interact with the other girls, unable even to eat at the table with them. Clara soon became very sickly and her father had to come for her.

Clara had a special talent for healing—a gift that was evident very early on. She tended to the injured animals on the farm with such skill that neighbors and friends would come to her with their sick animals. Her talents were needed at a very young age for her brother, David.

One day, her family was attending a barn-raising for another family nearby. Her older brother, David, was on the rafters working, when he lost his balance and plummeted to the ground.

“David!” Clara yelled and ran to her bother’s side. Everyone expected David to be dead after such a fall, but Clara found him still breathing. “Don’t touch him,” Clara told a man who was attempting to lift him to a cart, “if he has broken his back, you will injure him further.”

“Mama, go and get some water and bandages.” Clara yelled turning to her mother who was standing behind her. “Papa, make a brace with those boards over there.” Under the careful instruction of the little Clara Barton, David was taken back home without further injury. It was two full years of dedicated nursing by Clara, before David fully recovered.

During the civil war that tore our nation in the 1800s, Clara heard of the wounded soldiers who were dying simply from the lack of care. Indignant at the neglect of those giving their lives for the cause for their country, Clara did not rest until she obtained permission and supplies to attend the soldiers on the front lines of battle. Here she worked tirelessly to perfect a method by which to care for the wounded and save the lives of thousands.

Clara Barton seems a very unlikely candidate for the role of a nurse on the front lines of battle. But, through God’s power, those who seem most unfit can be used for the most awesome of tasks. And so it was, whenever someone was in need of help, the timid and shy Clara Barton would rise to the occasion and come to the aide of any who were ill or injured, no matter the circumstance. This quality was what later led her to the battlefields of America, and on to become a key founder of the American Red Cross.

Alicia Freedman is currently working on our LandMarks team and can be contacted at: landmarks@stepstolife.org.

Children’s Story – Knots That Can’t be Untied

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John and Paul Baxter liked to play in the woods near their home. They liked to watch the birds fly among the branches. They liked to hear the bluejays scold. They liked when the leaves sang in the cool spring breeze. They liked to stand beside the tall pines that stretched long, bushy arms toward the sky. Sometimes it seemed they almost reached the sky. Another reason the boys liked the woods was because they were always finding something there that they had never seen before.

That’s the way it was the day they discovered the tree that looked as if a knot had been tied in it. The knot was about half way up the tree. The boys looked at it. They walked around it. How could a tree grow that way? the boys wondered. The trunk was at least four inches through the middle. Surely no one could have tied a knot in a tree that was so big.

When Dad came home from work, Paul and John showed him the tree.

“It’s a knot, all right,” Mr. Baxter told his sons. “But it must have been tied a long, long time ago. I think it was tied when the tree was a tiny sapling.” He ran his long fingers over the pattern of the knot as he spoke.

“Maybe this is the way it happened,” he said. “Long ago some boy may have played in these woods just as you do now. When he felt the young sapling, he discovered that it could be bent very easily. Twisting it under and around itself, he tied a knot in it.”

Mr. Baxter examined the tree again. Then he turned back to the boys.

“Do you think you could untie that knot?”

“No, never,” Paul said. “It’s grown together that way now. No one could ever untie the knot.”

“That’s what I wanted you to say,” the boys’ father said. “It’s that way with young fellows like you, too. There’s an old truth that says, ‘As a twig is bent … ’ which means as boys are bent, so the man will grow. The way you start out in life, the habits you make when you are young, will determine the kind of person you will be when you grow up. Knots tied in young boys’ lives are just as hard to untie as this tree knot.”

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6).

Dear Lord, we are glad that You can keep our lives free from ugly knots. We thank You for parents, for teachers and for pastors who teach us how to live — so we won’t have any knots in our minds and souls. Help us to choose wisely the things we do. May we always be pleasing to You. In Jesus’ dear name. Amen.

Happy Moments With God, Margaret Anderson, © 1962, 45, 46.

Children’s Story – Relay for Life

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The Alaskan winter had shown itself to be unusually harsh the year of 1925. The temperatures hung at 50 degrees below zero on this particular day, January 27, as a high-pressure storm front was moving in from the Arctic. A diphtheria epidemic had stricken a small town in the midst of the storm, and many patients had already died.

“Mama?” A little girl’s feeble voice whispered.

“I am here, Ranahta.” Mama walked back to the hospital bed from the window where she had been standing. She had spent the morning peering through the driving snow for any sign of the dogsled team. She took Ranahta’s hand in hers and found her sound asleep again. Mama dabbed a cool cloth on the girl’s feverish forehead. The dogs had been sent out just this morning on a relay for the diphtheria serum. Already 28 children had died of the disease in this very room. “Please, Lord,” Mama begged, “please do not let Ranahta be the 29th.”

The little hospital room in Nome, Alaska, was chilled from the blustering winds outside, which were let in through the cracks under the doors. Mama looked longingly at the vials of diphtheria serum lined up in a cabinet on the wall across from Ranahta’s bed. The doctor had said they were expired and would only weaken a patient further if the antitoxin was administered. Mama walked back to the window again to watch for the dogs even though they were not expected back for at least another five days.

Six hundred sixty-seven miles away the relay for the serum had begun in Nenana, another Alaskan town also being ravaged by the storm. The snow whipped around the brave musher and his dogs. The blizzard had moved in from the Arctic, increasing in its intensity as it went, and the temperature was still dropping. The sled team had left early in the morning with the box of serum. “Kinda strange how Balto sniffed at the box so long. Almost like he was smelling out a new kind of animal,” Gun thought to himself. Suddenly, he felt a sharp sting on his cheek as a tether broke loose and whipped through the air. The precious serum it was holding was catapulted out of the sled into the growing snow drifts.

“Balto! Balto! Stop!” Gun yelled through the blizzard. The musher knew Balto could not hear him. He couldn’t even hear himself above the gales of wind. Gun anchored the brake to slow the dogs to a halt and stepped off the sled, feeling through the blizzard for his team. The snow was so thick he could not even see the dogs that were tied closest to his sled! Gun found the gang lead and followed it to the first set of dogs, checking each one down the line carefully for frostbite or other injuries. After taking extra measures to protect the dogs from the elements he was comforted that his dogs were all okay, but what about the serum? Many more men, women, and children would die without the antitoxin, and the diphtheria epidemic would spread. A search may prove deadly to him and the team; if he let go of the dog’s line it may mean that they all would most likely die in the blizzard. Then Gun got an idea. “Dogs have an excellent sense of smell,” he thought to himself. “And Balto was quite curious about the box before we left. Perhaps he can smell it out.” “Balto.” He bent down and spoke above the wind in the dog’s ear. “Balto, find the box.” Gun knew it was a long shot but with prayer and faith, and Balto’s keen senses, there was hope. Balto’s ears pricked up and, to Gun’s surprise, he lowered his head to the snow.

After 20 minutes of searching, Gun became quite anxious. If the team was not kept moving, the possibility of their freezing to death was very high. The temperature was dropping further now as the storm raged on. But still Balto, with the team in tow, was sniffing through the white-out. By now, Gun had tied himself to the dogs, since his hands were turning black with frostbite and he could not grasp the line or even move his fingers.

Suddenly Balto stopped. Gun bent down and felt in the snow around Balto. His hand hit something hard at his dog’s front paws! Praise God! It was the box! The serum vials were still intact. Not one had broken! Lifting the box, Gun carefully felt his way back to the sled and tied the serum tightly. And giving thanks to God, they continued the trek back to Nome.

“Nome to Nenana, come in, Nenana.” Static rasped over the little radio in the hospital office. “Come in, Nenana.” Still only static. Dr. Welch clicked the radio off and slumped back in his chair. It had been three days since they had any contact with the other town, and four since Nenana had heard from the relay team. The doctor looked out the window where the snow was still whipping by the unrelenting gales. The thermometer he had hung outside his window had long since been blown off the hinges, but one need only step outside to know that survival in the storm would be unlikely. Rubbing his worry-wrinkled forehead, he sent a silent prayer for the safety of the sledders and the deliverance of the precious medication.

“Dr. Welch! Dr. Welch!” Mama yelled bursting through the door of the doctor’s office.

Startled, the plump old man jumped out of his seat, giving the woman a quizzical look. “Ma’am?”

“Oh, doctor, come quickly!” Mama ran back out of the room down the hall.

“Oh dear,” the old man thought to himself. “The child must have taken a bad turn.” He exited his office and turned down the hall to see a large crowd hovering around the hospital entrance. One man yelled for hot water to be brought. Dr Welch grabbed a bucket and fetched the water. The man grabbed the bucket and ran outside with it. Puzzled, Dr Welch looked on.

Gun and his faithful team of dogs had just pulled in front of the hospital. The musher was frozen to his sled and delirious with fever. The man from the crowd dumped the hot water over Gun’s hands and pried them loose from the sled. Several more men ran out and carried Gun to a warm bed in the hospital where a couple of the women ministered to the sick man. Two other men attended to the dog team. The serum was brought inside to thaw while Dr. Welch examined Gun to make sure he would be okay. The dogs greedily ate the fresh fish and water set out for them by their master’s bed.

Mama knelt by the bed of her sleeping child and gave thanks to God for Gun, who safely delivered the medicine for her daughter and the other children. “And thank you, God, for the bravery and strength of the dogs that trekked through the blinding snow. Thank you for guiding them home.”

Alicia Freedman works for Steps to Life as a part of the LandMarks team. E-mails can be sent to her at: landmarks@stepstolife.org.

Children’s Story – Nathan Hale

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The young man standing at the front of the podium was anything but unnerved by the crowd that had gathered to decide on the position the colonies would take to England. Though the tension was as tight as a stretched rubber band, Nathan Hale stood with complete composure. “My dear fellow patriots!” At this, all commotion stopped. Mouths gaped and eyes bugged. “Patriot” was a word much like a river’s undercurrent— always present but never surfacing. A murmur of uncertainty rumbled around the room. Heads turned to their neighbors to see their reaction. A frown on a single brow could mean big trouble to all present. “Yes, I mean you,” Nathan continued unhindered. “We have come to a time to choose definitively between the dogmatic British rule, or independence!” Dead silence ensued, except for a fly buzzing unnoticed around the ears of those present. ‘Independence’ was a word of treason and punishable by death. Were they ready to charge down that road? Lexington was a small battle, and neither side had yet lost beyond repair. What would it mean to take on the British? Nathan looked long and hard at each individual present, pressing the invisible button of conscience to a point of great discomfort. Many a body squirmed in its seat before the aged voice of reason broke out from somewhere in the back. “The rash courage of a twenty-year-old boy breaks the spell! Hurrah for independence!” “Hurrah for independence!” came a bone-jarring echo. “Hurrah for independence!”

September 1776 found the cause for freedom still strong, and the Patriots were vying fiercely for freedom from the British hierarchy. Thousands of tents pitched beneath a merciless sun and an equally cruel terrafirma, provided a home-away-from-home (if one could call it that) for the Continental Army. And, indeed, even the most barren of accommodations was a welcome respite when compared to the final resting place of many of their compatriots. In one of these abodes, a most unsavory meeting was taking place …

“I know this is no job for a gentleman, yet it must be done. Do I have a volunteer?” Colonel Knowlton addressed the group of officers before him. Something both forceful and desperate was in his voice. He was most in earnest in his plea. The assignment was dangerous and regarded as degrading. The role of a spy was to play the part of a friend ultimately to betray. “The time is dire, friends. We must know of the enemy plans. The cause for independence could well rest solely upon this mission,” he begged. Still not a soul stepped forward.

“How about you, Lieutenant Bordeaux?” The Colonel looked at a well-dressed Frenchman among the soldiers. The French were such peacocks; perhaps he wouldn’t mind the mission as long as he could carry it out in his best attire.

“I am willing to be shot for the cause, but not hung as a spy,” came the common reply. A murmur of agreement rose and the company dwindled back to silence. So much for that idea.

Here the musty old tent flap lifted, sending in a hot cloud of dust and Captain Hale walked in looking quite pale from a recent illness. Though he was only 21 years of age, the time in bed had made him look even younger than his tender age. Still, with head high and exuding confidence he said, “Any service, necessary for the public good becomes honorable by being necessary. I will go.”

Two weeks later Nathan found himself hiding in the midnight darkness. It was uncannily oppressive. The travel behind enemy lines had been intense. Everyone was suspicious in wartime, and no less so now as loyalties differed from neighbor to neighbor. The mission had ended none too soon for Captain Hale. Under the cloak of darkness, Nathan awaited the longboat and his return to safety. The air was thick with mosquitoes and moisture. The evening had not brought any relief from the heat, yet in spite of this, Nathan shook with cold. Redcoats were as thick as the blood-sucking insects polluting the riverbed, and could be a far greater nuisance. He strained his ears to hear a conversation between soldiers, but the chorus of frogs drowned out the words.

Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the collar, cutting off his air supply and forced him to a standing position. Apparently, the midnight song of the frogs had drowned out more than just the conversing soldiers.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” demanded an English-accented voice. But before Nathan could open his mouth to respond, the English accent interrupted, “Private! Search him!”

Nathan could do nothing but stand quietly while the English soldier searched him from head to foot. The bayonet in his back assured him of that. The plans he was able to extract from the enemy were hidden in the sole of his boot. Perhaps with a less scrutinizing soldier, they would not be found, but this redcoat was tearing him apart at the seams! Sure enough he got down to the boots. “Aha! What have we here?” the soldier drawled, a triumphant glee showing in his face. “A spy!” He yelled. “To the gallows!”

The dawn of his execution came far too early. “Nathan Hale, you are found guilty and sentenced as a spy. Do you have any last words?” The executioner’s voice was gruff, and the offer sounded more like a dare. With great composure Nathan Hale raised his head and looked at the English general attending the hanging. “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.”

Just like Captain Nathan Hale, God will give you the courage to face even the most desperate of circumstances with courage and peace, no matter your age, experience, or situation.

Alicia Freedman is currently working on our LandMarks team and can be contacted at: landmarks@stepstolife.org.