Thankful


"Come! Get out of the rain! Quickly!"

People hurried out of the mud-filled streets. Filthy water was splashed everywhere as heavy footsteps ran out of the rain, seeking shelter.

In the midst of a self-consumed crowd of swarming men and women, a little girl quietly treaded down the street.

Her blonde hair was matted and pressed against her face; her cheeks had smudged dirt and her white dress was dingy from the rain and mud. With one foot bare, the other in an ill-fitting shoe, the little girl halted and turned her face upwards to the sky and let the cold rain hit her face. She closed her eyes and felt the raindrops cover and slide all down her arms and legs. Through half lidded eyes, the little girl shuffled over to a small eave barely overhanging one of the roofs. She pressed her back against the brick wall so at least some of her body would be out of the rain. She again looked at the weeping sky, now smiling at the pink tendrils curling up around the rain clouds.

Her eyes closed by themselves and she remembered her mommy rushing out of the market into her car, how there were suitcases in the back, how she sped off without saying anything. The little girl smiled slightly, but it was raining now, so mommy would come back and get her out of the rain. It wasn't so bad though, she'd probably be here soon. At least she didn't feel cold anymore.

Lightning flashed up in the sky, illuminating the little girl's face. It was the clearest lightning she had ever seen; it was like the black sky broke and God was peeling it apart. The lightning cracked thunderously, its sound deafening, but she wasn't afraid. The only times she was ever afraid was when she had somewhere safer to be, and since she was just waiting for mommy to come back, she wasn't scared.

She just felt really tired, so she figured that while she was waiting, she'd take a nap. And just hardly over the rain, before she closed her eyes, she heard a lady in the house she was against singing, first loudly, then softly, morphing into a hushed prayer. The little girl tiredly thought about if God could hear her when He was so high up.

And the lady's voice was so smooth it made her want to fall asleep. She opened her dry mouth and her cracked, childish voice quietly came out; and she sang herself a lullaby. Her eyes blinked slowly and she was too tired to realize how she really didn't feel cold anymore. As she closed her tinted-blue eyes to darkness, she was thankful for that.