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The Gift of a Cricket
by mary wolf
06/08/08
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Bobby wanted to show his dad the new cricket he had captured.

“Just a minute, son I want to hear the weather man.”

Unlike Bobby and his father, another family was going through the same thing.

Deep in the Forest stood a large oak tree, beneath it lived a family of crickets.
Father cricket loved the nights. He could hear himself as he scraped his legs into the finest tune.
Many of the other cricket fathers joined him, but none could keep rhythm like he could.

Of course mother cricket was so proud. She could always pick his song out. She would tell their children to listen to their father.
Isn’t he the greatest one in the forest?"

One late summer night father cricket began to scrape and counted carefully. When he was finished the next morning all of the other male crickets met him to disapprove.

“You chirped twenty times every fifteen seconds the leader of cricket town stated. You know it is much colder than that!”

You see if humans add forty to the number of chirps a cricket makes ever fifteen seconds they would always have the right temperature, instead they waste so much time listening to the weather man.

Anyway, mother cricket just listened as father cricket explained; she had every confidence in him. She felt sure he had chirped just enough. Although she had been busy some of the time with the children, trying to teach them just how to hold their leg and stand on one foot.
They had lived under the oak most of their life and father always knew what the temperature was. He had never been wrong.

Soon the rain began to fall and even when the sun rose at dawn, the clouds hovered low over the forest. Hiding under leaves and bark, all of the tiny baby crickets had listened to their fathers answer.

“Sixty degrees, yes siree! That is the temperature to day is. Sixty degrees.” he declared.

Finally the elder cricket of town hopped out from under the oak into the rain; much to his surprised it was a very warm rain he quite enjoyed it in fact. As he began to sing he counted and sure enough twenty chirps was exactly what he needed to do his rain dance.
That night when all of the crickets met to sing, the leader humbly apologized to father.

“How sir, did you know it was warmer out from under the tree?”

“Have you forgotten our maker also makes the rain?” Father cricket replied.
"If he wants to send warm rain he instructs us just how to do our job. Sometimes you have to step in to the water a little deeper to find the right answer.”

Bobby finally was able to show His dad the treasure he had captured. “I found him in some leaves beside the old oak tree in those woods back of our house. He really has a good chirper!”

“Son can you count the chirps?”

"Why do I want to do that Dad?”

“To see how cold it will be, I think it is going to rain.”

“Is that what the weatherman said dad?”

“No son that is what your cricket told me.”

Bobby laughed and looks up at his father. “How would a cricket know about the weather?”

“God told him son.”

Bobby was curious now, “Why doesn’t God just tell us?”

“I guess, because we don’t always listen to Him son.”

Bobby understood, because it had taken dad a long time to listen to him.

Grandpa always tells me", like father, like son!" but I did not know what he meant until now."

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

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Member Comments
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Dan Blankenship  09 Jun 2008
Mary, Excellent story! Well done. May God continue to bless your writing. Sincerely, Dan Blankenship




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