“Hey, Davy. Ain't that your sister?”
Several heads turned to stare at the strange young girl as she passed by where the group of boys stood in the smoking area behind the gym at Roebuck High School. Not that David was smoking, his parents would have beaten him within an inch of his life for that worldly sin. Being in the company of all the cool guys whose parents were less strict was enough for him...at least for now.
David never answered, choosing instead to join in as they laughed at and mocked the young girl.
Molly never looked their way; she was used to being made fun of by boys and shunned by girls her age. It hurt worse that her own brother chose to participate. But, who could blame him? She was ugly.
Hiding behind the trunk of the gnarled old oak, Molly pushed back the strand of long black hair that pulled loose from the tight bun and blinked away the salty tears that fell onto the faded hand-me-down wrinkled dress.
Looking heavenward through thick branches and green leaves, she cried out her first prayer to a God she didn't know. “Please, God, when I grow up make me beautiful and make men like me.”
* * *
Molly strode into the meeting room knowing every eye was on her. It still felt good after all these years.
“There's my girl! WOW! Look at you! Prettier every day.” Patrick Moore pulled out a chair to make way for Molly to be at his side. Silver-haired and tanned, he looked every bit the jet setter he was.
The only thing Molly remembered about that meeting was Patrick's hand on her leg, claiming her, wanting her.
She never lacked for male attention. Well, not since she shed the Quaker rags, took down her long black hair and enhanced her ivory complexion with a little makeup. The transformation was remarkable. Who knew that beneath those harsh garments was a slim, curvy figure that turned heads everywhere she went?
Molly enjoyed every minute of each conquest. She set goals for herself to meet men and have them fall in love with her. It was all a game. Too easy, in fact. The men came and went as she chose; not one broke her heart. She was in total control.
By the time she was thirty-four she had caused more than her share of heartaches.
The longer she played the game, the more she grew tired of it. So what, she won already. What was left to prove? Why did she feel so unfulfilled? God had answered her prayer, hadn't He?
What about God? The lady at the bookstore had asked her if she had a relationship with Jesus. Wow..she couldn't shake that question.
“Hello... Jan?” Molly put her book down and grabbed her cell phone.
“Molly, where are you? There's a crowd here. Hurry up.”
“I don't think so. Not tonight. Sorry. You don't need me to have fun.”
“Are you sick? You haven't been out all week. The joint is full of golfers. You know, professional golfers? Money. Looks. Time. Get down here!”
“Nope. I'm staying home. Curled up with a book. Bye.” Molly clicked her cell.
A relationship with Jesus. How does one? He's God, I'm nothing. A sinner. Going my own way. Empty. Wasting the very life He's given me. Why would a Holy God have anything to do with sinful me? And yet...He said if any one would knock. I just read it.
* * *
“Grandma, does God answer every prayer? Even silly ones?”
“Yes, child. I like to think He does. Sometimes, the answer is no. Sometimes, it's yes for reasons only known to Him. Sometimes, He seeks to teach us a lesson. What silly prayer is on your mind to ask Him?”
April twisted her seven-year-old black locks. She knew she could tell Grandma Molly anything. “Could He make me blond like Sandy?”
“Sure enough, if He wanted to. Give you freckles just like hers, too I expect. He's best known for taking the saddest of souls and the deepest of pains and washing them all away. I know of a black heart He washed white as snow.”
“WOW, indeed child. WOW, indeed.”
Thank You, Jesus
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