The Quiet Voice

Chelsea sat alone, speechless and heartbroken in the empty dimly lit nursery. The house was cold, dark and quiet. One thing this house had never been before. A way that she never thought she’d ever see it.

The silence was almost deafening as she sat there, slowly rocking back and forth in the creaking rocking chair, staring at the empty crib.

The same questions were running over and over through her head. What have I done wrong? Why am I being punished? Why has my God allowed this to happen to me? Why has my God forsaken me?

Chelsea’s faith was strong, but she had no idea just how she would be tested and just how far her faith would be pushed. God had a plan for her life. One that would not always be as she had planned it.

To understand her, we’d have to rewind a few years. We’d have to go back and relive some events that weren’t pretty at all and even dig up some memories that would forever scar and shape her.

To say that Chelsea and Jonathan’s relationship was love at first sight would be stretching the truth a bit. Well, actually stretching the truth a lot.

The earliest memory that she had of him was back in Sunday School together.

Chelsea had the face of an angel and everyone loved her and loved being around her. She lit up the room and often giggled, danced and sang. There was never a dull moment with her around.

She had big chocolate brown eyes and her little nose wrinkled up when she laughed. She enjoyed wearing pretty dresses and usually begged her mother to make little pigtails in her shoulder length hair, matching her ribbons to her dress.

Chelsea wanted to look especially pretty for Sunday School, one of her favourite places.

Her mother giggled at her reasoning, telling her that Jesus would find her pretty, even if she wore a brown paper bag.

Chelsea however never agreed, saying that Jesus always gave His best and so should we.

There was one particular Sunday, when Chelsea came home from Sunday School in tears.

It took quite a while for her to calm down before she could tell her mother what had happened.

“He just doesn’t get it!” said Chelsea looking up at her mother. Her big brown eyes red and her cheeks tear-streaked.

“Who doesn’t, my Love?” asked her mother, having no idea who she was referring to.

“Jonathan!” Chelsea blurted out and broke down crying again.

“Oh, Princess, tell me what happened?” Her mother had to struggle to keep a straight face when she realised that a disagreement with Jonathan was what had upset her so much.

“He made me ugly for Jesus!” her little bottom lip quivered as she told her mother. On the brink of another breakdown.

“Oh, my precious child, you could never be ugly for Jesus. He made you perfect, just like Him.” But no matter how hard her mother tried to convince her, Chelsea was adamant that she was now ugly for Jesus.

“Now, tell me then. Just what did Jonathan do that made you ugly for Jesus?” her mother inquired further, trying to better understand the situation.

“He messed it all up!” she shrugged wiping her tears on the back of her hand and blowing her nose on a tissue.

“Messed what up, my Love?” Her mother still did not understand.

“My hair! He pulled my one pigtail and then it was crooked and I tried to fix it but I couldn’t because I’m only a little girl and I can’t see behind my own head to fix my hair and now Jesus thinks I’m ugly.” Out of breath from the long explanation, Chelsea fell backwards onto her mother’s bed and began to quietly cry again.

Her mother picked her up into her lap and rocked her back and forth until her sobs calmed down to the odd sniff. She kissed her beautiful angel’s crooked little pigtails and gave her a big hug.

“Chelsea?” her mother tried to get her attention.

“Yes.” Chelsea’s voice was barely audible.

“Do you think that Jesus is beautiful?” her mother asked her.

“Oh yes Mommy! He is the most beautiful person I know!” Her face was glowing as her mother looked down at her little angel in her lap and placed a big kiss on her cheek.

“Now tell me, if Jesus had pigtails and one was a bit crooked, would you still think that He was beautiful?” Her mother already knew the answer to the question, but asked it anyway.

“Oh Mommy, don’t be silly,” she giggled “Jesus doesn’t wear pigtails.”

“But what if He did?” her mother pushed her for an answer. “Would you still love Him? Would you still think that He was beautiful?”

“Of course, I would Mommy.” She beamed.

“Why?” asked her mother, pushing further.

“That’s easy. I don’t love Jesus or think that He’s beautiful just because of His hair. I love Him because He loved me first. But I love Him mostly because He died on the cross to save me.” Chelsea’s love for Jesus was like a soft white light that glowed around her entire being.

“Now,” asked her mother “don’t you think that Jesus loves you and thinks that you are beautiful even if your one pigtail is crooked? Do you think that He will only love you for your hair? And only love you if both of your pigtails were perfectly straight?”

Chelsea blushed when she realised just how silly she had been, believing that Jesus wouldn’t love her if one of her pigtails were crooked.

“You are right Mommy,” she smiled. “My Jesus loves me just the way I am... just the way that He made me. I’m absolutely perfect in His eyes.”