Issabel and her mother had recently moved into a new home near some woods, which her mother said was "...a perfect writing environment!" Ellen Roberts wrote Christian novels and plays and music.
Issabel made a daily sojourn down a particularly leafy lane at the bottom of her street. Sure, she had her mother's gift, because everything she saw became a story-or many different ones. This lane was full of story potential.
There was only one house, snuggled in between all the greenery. It had an old rendered finish, with a few cracks in the plaster which, in no way, diminished its charm. The garden was full of blooms and hedges and trees and it seemed an idyllic space for a child to play. But she never saw a child in there.
In fact she had never seen anyone. Issabel had often pondered about who could live there and had come up with a variety of possibilities. Of one thing she was sure, they lived alone in all their natural beauty, but why?
One day, she took her sketch book and pencil and some watercolours and ventured down the lane. Finding a good vantage point across from an open facing window bursting with colour, she sat and began to draw, her mind musing over the interior details of what lay in shadow before her.
Some time passed and thru the stillness, across the sound of the trees, the breeze carried the sound of a phone ringing.
Aha! thought Issabel,
a clue! She put her pad aside and crept up as close as she could to the window. The phone was answered with a curt, inaudible response and hung up!
Hmm...they liked being left alone...or maybe they were being bothered by sales people! Issabel laughed to herself. The way her mind worked fascinated her, and she thought God was exceptionally clever to create people with such abilities.
Suddenly, to her surprise, she saw a very small, aged hand holding a silver watering jug, come forth out of the shadows and pour liquid over the flower pots on the sill. The other hand appeared, gently caressing the plant and it sounded like the old lady was softly crooning to the blooms. Issabel
really wanted to see her!
She came up with a plan to finish her drawing and then present it to the woman.
Brilliant! she thought.
***** ****** *****
A day or two passed by before Issabel ventured back down the lane to present her picture. She came bearing some banana bread too, in case she was invited in for tea.
But no one answered the door, even tho the window was open. Maybe she just didn't want to be bothered-especially by pesky strangers.
Issabel decided to try again the next day, convinced that everyone should have kindness shown them and not always be alone, but she was met with the same response. This time however, she noticed that the flowers on the window sill were starting to wilt.
"Oh dear", she thought, sensing trouble. The phone rang and just kept ringing. Issabel went up to the open window and listened. She thought she heard, wait...yes! Groaning!
"Hello, hello!" she called into the darkness. "Are you alright?" More groaning. Issabel tried the front door-locked. Leaving her firendship offering on the step, she went around the house, looking for an open door or window, to see if she could get in anywhere. No open doors and all the windows were too high off the ground without a boost. "I'll be right back! I'll get help." she called into the window.
She ran up the lane to her home and straight into her mother's study. Flushed and worried, she took her mother by the hand and pulled her along, explaining the situation as she did. "Bring your phone!" she insisted.
Ellen quickly surveyed the scene, called an ambulance, and helped Issabel move the thirsty flower pots to give her a boost up. Once inside, Issabel saw the old woman fallen on the ground and groaning. She reassured her and went to let her mother in. Being only 14, she didn't really know what to do.
Just then, the phone rang. The little lady, now revealed as of Asian descent, gestured with her head for Issabel to answer it. Issabel picked up the old style receiver and putting it to her hear, said "Hello?"
The female voice on the other end sounded startled, and with an accented English started apologising, as she must have the wrong number.
"No, no! This is the cottage of the lady in the lane but she has had an accident and me and my mother are helping her!"
"I come straight way!" the voice said, and hung up.
The ambulance arrived and Ellen directed them inside. Issabel had been soothing the old woman, who now seemed quite peaceful. They had to take her to hospital as she seemed to have fractured a bone, but before they left, a blue Mazda pulled up and another elderly lady got out. She was quite able bodied and went straight to the gurney, speaking in another language to the injured woman. She then had a few words to the paramedics, althought Issabel couldn't hear what she said.
After words, she turned to Issabel and Ellen, saying,
"Thank you! Thank you!" as she subtly bowed "Thank you!", she continued,
"Lu-Kim is ma ohder sista, but since I move an re-marry, she has not spoken to me. It's been ten years and I pray for Jesus to touch her. I ahways try, but she no talk to me." It became clear that Lu-Kim was angry and hurt at being left alone and unforgiving to her sister. "I am Mai-Lin, an' now I will take care of her." She smiled and bowing again, got in her car to go to the hospital.
In the weeks that followed, Lu-Kim recovered in her cottage. Ellen and Issabel visited. Issabel went daily and drew, read from the gospels and shared her artwork and how good it was that God had her there to help in that time. Mai-Lin came every day as well. Hearing the the story of how Issabel happened to be at her sister's cottage, she marvelled at how God hears and answers prayers.
Lu-Kim found forgiveness through these kindnesses and the two sisters were restored to each other. Issabel beamed exclaiming,
"It's an even better story than any I would have written!"
And you show that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not ith ink, but with the Spirit if the living God, not on tablets of stone, but on tablets of human hearts. 2 Cor 3:3
