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A gentle reminder
by linda armstrong-miller
12/30/05
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Cayla trudged into her apartment, dropped her keys on the table by the door then looked back at the mess she had tracked in. She sighed, shook her head then closed the door. The temperature has hovering near fifteen for days. When she wasn’t at work freezing, she was hunkered down in her apartment trying to keep from freezing.
December 4, marked the sixth month anniversary of her move to what she referred to as the barren waste lands. She was lured to New York with the promise of, get this, a position as a weather girl. Once there, the position was given to someone else and she has spent the last six months as that someone else’s personal assistant. Yet, every time she called home, she raved to her mother about her great job.
Cayla grabbed the mop she kept close by and cleaned the floor. What would she tell her mother now? How long would it be before she needed to either go back home or call home for help? Especially after today, unable to hold her tongue, she was fired. She had many applications out there but she was sure nothing would come thru before she was down to her last dime.
With the floor cleaned, she put a pot of hot water on. All that she had in her cupboard was soup and tea. These were things that kept her stomach full, things that she would be able to afford for many months to come, even without a job because these were things she could get at the dollar store. As she sat waiting for the water to boil, she stared out her window.
For many months after the fact she tried to recall everything she did before her miracle but could not. For starters, when it first happened, she had to convince herself she was not going crazy. For right before her eyes, the winter white turned to spring green.
The trees were in bloom and flowers were budding. Standing outside of her window waving up at her was her father. An impossibility since her father died the spring of her twentieth year and she was on the fifth floor. Cayla stood, went to the window and opened it. To her surprise she was met with warm air filled with the sweet scent of gardenia and rose buds.
“Daddy?” she whispered.
“Hi honey, looks like you could use a break.”
“I think you mean a lock up.” She told her father.
“You’re tired, honey. What you need to do is remember what God does for the earth at the end of a long hard winter. When it seems like the earth can’t take another snow storm, He sends the world a break in the form of spring.”
“Spring?”
“That’s right.”
“Daddy it’s fifteen degrees and December. Spring is a long time away.”
“It’s doesn’t have to be. You used to ask me why I always had a smile and a kind word for folks.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Especially since you worked like a dog and still had little to show for it.”
“I had you and your mother. I had the Lord. I had all I needed. What do you have?” she said nothing. “It seems to me you have forgotten the most important thing I taught you. Thru God, all things are possible. You need a renewed spirit. Spring is a time of renewal.
“Take a moment to close your eyes, think of spring. Feel it in your heart, your body, believe that your spirit is being reborn then rejoice at the Lord’s goodness.”
At that, Cayla’s dad disappeared. She saw the same snow covered ground which had been there before. (Thank God she had not really opened the window) Now, however, she didn’t feel the weight of winter freezing her as she had before. Cayla smiled, ate her dinner said her prayers for the first time in a long time and went to bed.
The next morning the thermostat read sixty-five degrees but it felt much warmer. As she thanked God, her phone rang.
“Cayla, this is Benton. I heard about what happened at the station yesterday.” He paused.
Benton was the editor for the Daily Prophet, a small paper with a strong circulation. She’d met Benton when she first started working at the station. She’d told him how she’d been wronged and he had listened without judging. He’d had a smile and a kind word for her, much as her father would have.
“It doesn’t pay much but I need a feature writer. If you can be here by noon, the job is your. I mean if you want it.”
“Yesss. Thank you Benton. I want the job. And thank you. I think spring is going to be early this year.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I’ll see you at noon.”






If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW

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