Saturday, April 18, 2020
Larkspur: The Story of the Delphinium
Holly Wreath: The Story of a Very Merry Front Door
Happy Coloring Zone: The Story of a Box of Crayons
Copyright 2020 Jennifer Waters
Camel Train: The Story of Getting Over a Hump
Monday, March 9, 2020
Touchdown: The Story of the Beautiful Game
“The first thing you probably need is a Bible,” she decided, then looked at her watch. She was getting paid $15 an hour, and there didn’t seem to be enough time to teach the team’s quarterback everything he needed to know. “We might need to meet twice a week to make sure you learn everything for the test. We can meet in the library on the weekends if you want.”
“I have a game on Saturday, and this is too much to think about right now,” he complained. “You know I’m not really a Christian, right? I grew up going to African American church because of my grandma. I just go along with the religious talk most of the time.”
“I’ll find you a Bible for next week,” she stated, handing him a clipping from the newspaper with his picture from last week’s game. “You’re going to have to start reading the Bible in order to pass this class.”
“Fine, I’ll read the Bible with you, but I’m still not sure what I believe,” Kevin rambled. “I know Coach suggested it, but I took this class because I thought it would make my grandmother happy. If I skip church on Sunday, at least I can tell her that I took a class that had something to do with Jesus.”
During Freshman year, Jenna enrolled in Christianity, only to find out that the football team usually makes up half the class. Every year, the coach tries to find classes that will be easy “As” for the players. Since a lot of the players grew up going to church, Christianity seemed like an easy “A,” but for most of the guys it turned out to be harder than they imagined with historical and theological facts to learn.
“In February A.D. 313, Emperor Constantine issued the Edict of Milan in the Roman Empire, stopping the persecution of the Christians and allowing for religious tolerance,” Professor Mark Johnson lectured. “Study your notes. If we have a pop quiz, you have to be ready.”
Although Jenna was studying English and music at college, she took Christianity because she always loved reading the Bible. When she got a perfect score on the final, the professor called to ask her to tutor some of the football players during her sophomore year. After several weeks of teaching Christianity, she even got roped into tutoring statistics from time to time, which she found boring and routine. Either way, each Tuesday night, she took the campus bus to the football fieldhouse for tutoring. Rain, sleet, snow, or hail—and there was lots of snow in the winter—she showed up with a smile. At least she was showing school spirit, she thought.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she worried to herself, sitting in the waiting room at the fieldhouse. Kevin was fifteen minutes late. “I’m the tiny white girl who likes to play the piano. I know all the rules of tennis, but not football.”
“Did you see the touchdown that I got on Saturday, Jenna?” Kevin called, bursting through the tutor office. “I ran circles around the other team.”
“There were a bunch of women that ran circles around you, too. I think they’re called cheerleaders,” Jenna poked fun at Kevin, standing up and following him into a study room. “I’m not a cheerleader. I’m a tutor.”
“Hey, I broke up with my girlfriend a couple days ago. Do you have a boyfriend, or do you just study all the time?” Kevin asked Jenna, unpacking his books in the private tutor room. “Please tell me that you don’t study all the time.”
“Now you want to know if I have a boyfriend?” Jenna quipped, closing the door. “To you, I must be a complete nerd. I’m sure you call me a geek when I’m not listening.”
As Jenna took a seat, she straightened her long dirty-blond hair and adjusted her glasses. Although she didn’t wear a lot of makeup or trendy clothes, underneath her simple appearance, she was what her mother called a classic beauty.
“I never called you a nerd. What makes you say that?” Kevin inquired. “I never said anything negative about you. You’re pretty. I just wondered if you had a boyfriend.”
“I’m pretty smart, and you just need me to pass your class,” Jenna retorted, shrugging her shoulders. “Stop trying to flatter me.”
“Flatter you? I was trying to flirt with you. Okay, you’re not just pretty,” he paused. “You’re beautiful. You’re the only woman on campus who wants me to read the Bible. My grandmother would like you.”
“I thought you said that you weren’t really a Christian. Now, all of a sudden, you’re a Christian, and you’re hitting on me! I’m trying to help you pass your exam, and you’re hitting on me,” Jenna communicated. “Don’t you care at all about your grades?”
“Look, I have a new Range Rover from the college, and you said we needed to spend more time together studying,” Kevin expressed. “So, what if we study over dinner tomorrow night, and then you don’t have to come down here late at night on the bus. I can drive you back to your dorm.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” Jenna uttered, staring at him intensely. “This is unbelievable. If you don’t pass your test, I could get fired. This job doesn’t pay a lot, but Professor Johnson is expecting that you get an ‘A.’”
“You need to have more fun,” Kevin alleged. “Please let me take you to dinner, and I promise that I’ll get an ‘A’. I meant what I said when I said that you’re beautiful.”
“Well, I’m willing to teach you everything I know about Jesus at dinner,” Jenna verbalized. “I agree to let you take me to dinner as long as I still get paid my $15 an hour for tutoring. Does this mean that you’re going to try to kiss me good night?”
“If you insist,” Kevin gasped. “You’re already insisting on things.”
“You know if you fail the mid-term that Coach won’t let you play football,” Jenna scolded. “So, I’m insisting that you let me teach you everything I know about Jesus.”
“Pick you up at 7 o’clock outside the student center,” Kevin planned. “I won’t be late.”
When the next evening rolled around, Jenna put on her favorite lipstick and jeans skirt with high heel boots. She stuck two Bibles in her backpack and the class textbook on the history of Christianity.
“Did you know that some scholars think that Genesis had two or more authors and that there are supposedly two different accounts of the Creation Story in Genesis? But the traditional Jewish scholars think that Moses was the author of Genesis,” Jenna recalled from memory, climbing in the Range Rover, and shutting the door. “That’s sure to be a question on the exam.”
“Aren’t you going to at least say: ‘Hello,’” Kevin laughed. “Do we have to talk about the mid-term all night? I thought maybe we could take a break from studying?”
“The Catholic books in the Apocrypha were written in Greek, not Hebrew. This is why the Protestant churches rejected them from the Old Testament. All the other Old Testament books are written in Hebrew,” she taught, talking a mile a minute. “The New Testament is written in Greek.”
“I’m making a mental note right now,” he promised, touching her hand.
“If you fail the test, it’s not my fault,” Jenna declared, feeling nervous for several reasons at once.
“I thought we could go for pizza and ice cream and forget about things for a while,” he suggested, turning up the radio.
Thinking that she had given it her best to save Kevin’s grades, Jenna gave up.
“Sure, let’s forget about everything, but only for the night,” she sighed.
As the evening went on, Kevin wasn’t the only one who had forgotten about the exam. Jenna had so much fun that she wished she could quit being Kevin’s tutor, so she didn’t have to be responsible for his failing grades. She took all the change from his Range Rover’s dashboard and played one song after another on the jukebox and made him dance with her until late into the night.
“Are you going to let me kiss you good night?” Kevin begged, pulling up outside her dorm in the early morning.
“Maybe, if you promise to go home and review your notes for the test,” she prompted.
“I promise,” he fibbed, leaning over, and kissing her on the cheek. “Maybe you could try to learn some of the rules of football for the next game . . . like what it means to score a touchdown. I think I scored a touchdown tonight.”
“Don’t get too certain,” she told him, hopping out of the Range Rover before he could kiss her again. One of the Bibles in her bag fell onto the sidewalk as she hurried to her dorm. She bent over to pick it up. Running into the building, she avoided the resident assistant on duty.
Next week at the weekly tutor session, Kevin walked into football wing with an “A plus” on his mid-term exam from Christianity. He held it up to show Jenna as soon as he saw her face.
“Oh, wow!” Jenna hugged him. “I’m so proud of you. You learned most of the material on your own.”
“No, he didn’t,” one of Kevin’s teammates yammered, walking past. “He cheated. He got the test from one of his buddies that took the class last year. It’s the same test verbatim. He just liked you and tried to impress you.”
“You cheated?” Jenna yelled. “Did you cheat? Really? We could have just studied together!”
“I didn’t really cheat,” Kevin lied. “I learned from last year’s test, and it happened to be this year’s test, too.”
“You are making me look like a fool!” Jenna cried. “I trusted you!”
“I wanted you to think I was smart,” Kevin argued. “I’m really smart, but I have all this pressure on me to succeed at football, and I don’t have time to study.”
“Well, I don’t have time for you anymore,” she mumbled, grabbing her things, and heading back to her dorm on the bus in the snow.
When Jenna didn’t show up at tutor hours for two weeks in a row, Kevin arrived at her dorm room unannounced. After she heard a knock on the door, she opened it to find him standing in the hall in tears.
“What do you want?” she asked, with her roommate listening to his every word.
“I want you to forgive me,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ll never cheat again. Never ever. I prayed with my grandmother on the phone to start new with you and Jesus and everyone. I even got a tattoo to prove it.”
“A tattoo?” Jenna questioned. “Didn’t that hurt? It involves needles.”
He pulled up his sleeve and showed her the cross on his arm with a scripture: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13.”
“I forgive you,” Jenna whispered, quietly. “I’ll help you study again, if you want.”
“No, I don’t want your help to study,” Kevin replied. “I just want to take you to dinner again on a real date. I’ll find someone else to help me study. You shouldn’t have to do that for me again.”
“I would like that,” she agreed. “Next time, if you could let me know when you’re coming over, because I should put on some makeup or something first.”
“You’re beautiful just the way you are,” he told her, grabbing her, and kissing her in the hall. The entire fifth floor of Jenna’s dorm immediately knew that she was much more than the tutor, and Kevin had learned more from Jenna about Jesus than historical facts in a textbook.
Throughout all of Saturday’s football game, Jenna yelled “Touchdown!” every time Kevin scored, which was several times in a row, including when he kissed her in front of the coach at the end of the beautiful game.
Copyright 2020 Jennifer Waters
Saturday, February 1, 2020
Three Ships: A Christmas Folktale from Bethlehem
There’s a tale told in Bethlehem that on the first Christmas morning, three ships sailed into a port in the Land of Judea. Some say it never happened this way, but around Christmas in Bethlehem the story has been told for decades.
As the sun rose over the horizon, the sound of a baby crying came from one of the ships. A young mother named Mary, and her newborn child Jesus, lay huddled in blankets on the side of the deck. She felt tired and cold after spending the night in labor. A donkey snuggled up next to Mary on the ship and his tail swayed back and forth.
Joseph, her husband, held her hand, and it comforted her from her many fears. He often knelt in prayer beside Mary and the child. Despite Joseph’s worried look, warmth spread through her when he prayed.
Waves crashed against the boat, and the wind blew harder than expected for a clear morning. Every time Mary felt afraid, she sang, “I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas day, on Christmas day. I saw three ships come sailing in on Christmas day in the morning.”
After all, this was what the angel Gabriel told Mary would happen. She remembered it like it was yesterday when Gabriel told her she would conceive and give birth to a son, and he would be the Son of God, and she was to call him Jesus.
Looking from her ship, Mary could see two other ships sailing next to her. On one of the ships were three wise, old men who had chests of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The men had looking glasses used to watch the stars at night. She thought they searched the skies for messages from God, just as she had once received. Although she wasn’t sure what they perceived in the heavens, she saw that they had found wealth on Earth.
From a distance, she could hear the three wise men singing: “And what was in those ships, all three on Christmas day, on Christmas day? And what was in those ships, all three on Christmas day in the morning? Our Savior, Christ, and His Lady on Christmas day, on Christmas day. Our Savior, Christ, and His Lady on Christmas day in the morning.”
Listening to their song, she thought the astrologers must have heard about the coming of Jesus, her son. She thought maybe God also spoke to them; similar to the way the angel Gabriel visited her.
On the other ship, she saw thieves and murderers that were chained to the hull of the boat. She secretly hoped to never meet the dangerous voyagers. Most of them were criminals, ferried from town to town aboard the prison ship. She wondered how they had managed to lose their way in life.
As she looked at Jesus, she felt sad for the prisoners, but she wanted to protect her son. Unlike the astrologers, the criminals did not raise their voices in song.
As the three ships docked on the coast of the Land of Judea, miles from Bethlehem, a crowd of people sang on the shore. The crowd rang bells and clanged pots and pans outside their homes and in the village square.
Mary thought they also must have learned about the coming of Jesus from the angels. The enthusiasm of the angels must have been enough for the people to gather on this first “Christmas morning.” They sang, “And all the bells on earth shall ring on Christmas day, on Christmas day. And all the bells on earth shall ring on Christmas day in the morning.”
Then, all of a sudden, a gust of wind came and blew the ships to shore. Mary held on tight to Joseph and Jesus. Scared of the wind and waves, Mary sang to herself: “And all the angels in heaven shall sing on Christmas day, on Christmas day. And all the angels in heaven shall sing on Christmas day in the morning.”
When Mary looked up, the ship with the criminals crashed into the stone jetty. She covered her ears at the crunching sound of the boat hitting the hard stone. Surely, this would allow the prisoners to escape. She imagined the chaos in her mind.
“What shall we do now?” Mary whispered to Joseph. “We cannot let the criminals harm Jesus.”
“Don’t worry,” Joseph said, as he glanced at his son. “We will make our way inland to Bethlehem somehow.”
As Mary and Jesus disembarked from the ship, the young mother and her child looked tired and rugged. She knew her whole family needed rest. Joseph led the donkey by a cord while carrying two knapsacks on his own back.
From afar, Mary saw the astrologers talking amongst themselves and looking at her. They ran to meet her and her family.
“Take this treasure,” the wise astrologer said. He stuffed her husband’s bags with treasure. The father shook the hands of the seers with gratitude. “We have more than enough treasure to share with you. Now hurry off before the criminals can find you.”
Then, the astrologers fled from the disembarking prisoner ship in fear. Mary prayed for their safety and knew God would protect them for their kindness.
When Mary saw the third ship emptying, she thought that she must give the astrologer’s treasure to the prisoners. It would be the only way to keep them at bay.
She knew that Jesus was only a child, and he was not ready to give his life for them. She thought giving them the treasure might prevent potential violence.
“Quickly, Joseph, give the prisoners the treasure from the astrologers,” Mary told her husband. She held Jesus close to her chest, wrapped in swaddling clothes. Joseph hesitated for a moment as he looked at his wife and child.
“I will leave it on the shore for them, and we will go the other way,” Joseph explained. He placed the treasure from his bag on the beach as close to the shipwrecked boat as he could without putting himself in more danger.
“Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing,” Mary prayed.
She looked up and locked eyes with one of the prisoners from a distance. She saw the sadness and longing in his eyes.
Then, the family hurried into the cheering crowd. When the rest of the prisoners found the gold, frankincense, and myrrh on the beach, Mary watched it distract them.
With the donkey’s quiet steps and the treasure left behind, she and her family journeyed toward Bethlehem in peace. She praised God in her heart for the wise men and their treasure.
“It is Christmas morning,” she said quietly to Joseph. “I cannot give them my son today, only the treasure.”
“At least we get to keep Jesus for a while,” Joseph whispered to her. Mary kissed her son on the forehead, aware of the man that Jesus would one day become.
“And let us all rejoice and sing on Christmas day, on Christmas day,” Mary sang with Joseph. “And let us all rejoice and sing on Christmas day in the morning. On Christmas day in the morning.”
“Today, I give them treasure,” Mary whispered to God. “One day, I’ll give them Jesus.”
Copyright 2020, 2025 Jennifer Waters
Sunday, January 19, 2020
Shoes: The Story of an Old Woman and a Three-Footed Giant
There was an old woman who lived in an ankle boot with a neighborhood of footwear.
“Grandmother’s house!” her grandchildren called it, climbing its laces, and sliding to the sole. Although her five children—the parents of her grandchildren—lived nearby, her grandchildren enjoyed staying at her home more than any other place in the entire countryside, including the village candy store.
Of course, she was a good grandma—she fed her grandchildren, clothed them, scolded them, and encouraged them when they were sad. They never lacked for anything because she was so wise and creative. Gramps had passed away a few years ago, but she kept his shoes by the fireplace for everyone to remember.
The Shoes Neighborhood, which was over the river and through the woods, practically consisted of a shoe store. It had an army boot, a ballet slipper, a bowling shoe, a climbing shoe, a cowboy boot, a brogue, a cleat, a clog, a derby, a flat, a galosh, a golf shoe, a gumshoe, an ice skate, a knee boot, a Lita bootie, a loafer, a Mary Jane, a moccasin, a monk, a mule, an Oxford, a platform, a pump, a roller skate, a rubber boot, a sandal, a bedroom slipper, a sneaker, a snow boot, a stiletto, a thigh-high boot, and a wedge.
Much like the shoe section at the village clothing store, there was a type of shoe for everyone’s personal taste. Except in the Shoes Neighborhood, the customers lived in their shoe, instead of putting them on their feet.
“Shine up your shoes!” the neighborhood caretaker called, reviewing the homes during monthly inspection.
Especially during the holidays, Grammie, as her grandchildren called her, liked to light up her shoe.
“String the lights from the rooftop,” she called as the children dangled the glowing bulbs from the shoe top.
As much as everyone liked the Shoes Neighborhood for its cleverness and class, it had one enemy: Its long-standing rival was the Three-Footed Giant, whose feet never fit in shoes, because shoes come in a pair, and he had larger-than-life triple feet; so not only was the size a problem, but also his number of feet. Baam! Baam! Baam! The whole ground shook every time he came near the Shoes Neighborhood.
“You think you’re so special because you have shoes!” he bellowed. “Shoes! Shoes! Shoes!”
“Oh, not him again,” Grammie sighed, running to her shoelace window. She finished her morning cup of tea and buttered crumpets and put a lid on her bubbling lunchtime vegetable soup. “Hide the food, children!”
The children gathered Grammie’s apple pies, slid them under their beds, and slipped them in their sock drawers.
“Maybe if we got the Giant his own shoes, he’d stop bullying us,” one of her twelve grandchildren suggested.
“Who knows if that would even work,” another one of her grandchildren cried in fear, hiding the cookie jar.
“I’m willing to start sewing the shoes,” the oldest grandchild yelped. “Anything to end his tantrums.”
As the Three-Footed Giant plodded his way through the streets, the thigh-high boot home fell over, the roller skate home lost a wheel, and the stiletto home broke its heel. Several porch sandal straps fell to the ground from a local residence, swinging back and forth with no place to attach. It was not a pretty sight, and neighbors ran from their homes in tears and fright, afraid that their shoe house would be next to fall apart.
“Quick! Run and measure his footprints!” Grammie called to her grandchildren, as the Giant stomped.
“How big do you think his feet are?” the twelve children pondered, using a tape measure for the task.
“Ten feet long by five feet wide is what it looks like,” the tiniest grandchild announced, comparing his own small feet.
“He’s destroying our stylish homes,” a middle grandchild declared. “How fast can we finish his shoes?”
“A week?” one of the twin grandchildren asked. “No! More like a day or two!” her twin argued in response.
“Well, he seems to have wandered off for now,” Grammie concluded, standing on top of her ankle boot home, peering into the distance over the Shoes Neighborhood. “Let’s get to work before he comes back!”
As the twelve grandchildren worked for five straight nights in a row, they made the Three-Footed Giant individual army boots, matching his three distinct footprints, each of which had varying numbers of toes.
When the army boots were painted and laced, Grammie inspected the shoes with her spectacles.
“Looks good to me, dear ones,” she reassured, hugging them for their efforts. “Now, if he’d only wear them.”
She paced about the boots, gearing up for her showdown with the Giant, anticipating the next time he came ‘round.
“We’re putting these shoes on his feet, if we have to tie him to the ground to do it!” she declared.
Days later, when the Three-Footed Giant came back to the Shoes Neighborhood, Grammie had been baking.
“Those blueberry muffins smell so good!” the Giant drooled, sticking his nose into her shoelace window.
“Oh, dearie,” Grammie whispered. “So good to see you! I have a gift for you. Your own trio of shoes!”
“Shoes!” he roared. “Shoes never fit on my feet, so I look like a bumbling clumsy fool. I get sores on my ugly toes, and everyone makes fun of me. Why are you telling me that I could even have shoes? You’re mean.”
“Now, son, you listen to me!” Grammie proclaimed, coming from the front door of her ankle boot home. “You put these shoes on, and you stop feeling sorry for yourself.” She parted the trees in her yard and showed him his new trio of army boots. “These shoes are as good as anybody’s shoes, and they’re the perfect fit.”
The Three-Footed Giant paused for a moment and inspected the triad of boots, grunting and growling.
Grammie’s grandchildren stayed hidden, deep in their closets with the blueberry muffins, praying he would take the triplet army boots and leave before he decided to eat any more than their grandmother’s sweets.
“Put me down!” Grammie insisted, as the Giant swiped her up into his gigantic hand. She pinched him hard.
“Aaah!” the Giant yelled. “I just needed your help in putting on the boots. I’ve never done it before.”
“I can give you pointers from the ground,” she scolded, slipping down his side. “Behave yourself, young man.”
Then, he slammed his foot on the ground, and the whole neighborhood rattled, rumbled, and cracked.
“Fine, I’m trying to get my feet into your boots,” he moaned. “They look like shoes for a military general.”
“Yes, son, I’m sure you’d make a good military general, if you could get a better attitude,” she chided.
After much fussing, fidgeting, and rolling on the ground, the Three-Footed Giant shoved his feet into the boots. Then, he broke down sobbing like a two-year-old child. Each of his tears fell like huge raindrops.
“Now that you have shoes, you can walk wherever you want in peace,” Grammie explained, nodding.
Against her will, the Giant scooped Grammie up again in his palm and placed her at his heart.
“I told you to keep me on the ground,” Grammie pointed out, poking his shoulder with her eyeglasses.
“I can’t leave you on the ground,” the Giant blubbered in tears. “I love you too much!”
“Why, son, I love you, too!” Grammie exclaimed, as her grandchildren came running from hiding.
“I have a few friends who could also use their own shoes,” the Giant suggested. “Their feet never fit in regular shoes, and it causes so many hurt feelings. If I bring them by, could you make shoes for them, too?”
Grammie had a calm moment, considering any alternative other than “yes” and realized she must agree.
“My grandchildren and I will make shoes for anyone who needs them,” Grammie proposed, rolling out her measuring tape from her pocket. It fell from her hand and wrapped right around his arm and wrist.
From then on, the Shoes Neighborhood was known as the most generous place for people with misshapen feet. If their feet didn’t fit in anywhere else, they would always be able to find the perfect shoes with Grammie, who had more children of every size and shape than she could fit in her ankle boot home.
Copyright 2020 Jennifer Waters
https://soundcloud.com/jen-waters/shoes