by Unknown
"And that's what we did," Grandma said. "Sarah Jane and I never forgot that lesson. Fortunately, hair grows back again. Everything isn't that easily repaired, however."
"And did Sarah Jane get the curl for her locket?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," Grandma laughed. "Ma let her keep it. But she really didn't need it to remember me or that day."
Grandma Makes a Friend
Grandma was getting ready to prepare some corn for supper when I came into the kitchen and plopped down on a chair. I reached for an ear of corn and viciously pulled off the husks.
"I hate that mean old Tommy Rice," I said.
Grandma looked at me in surprise. "You hate him? Surely you don't mean that."
"Well, I do. You don't know what he did today."
"No, I don't. But it couldn't be anything bad enough to make you hate him. Do you know what the Bible says about hating your brother?"
"He's not my brother," I muttered, but I knew that the Bible meant any other person when it said brother.
Grandma ignored that comment and reached for her Bible. She quickly turned to the place she wanted and handed it to me. "Why don't you read this verse?" She pointed to the fifteenth verse of the third chapter of I John.
"For every one who hates his brother is a murderer, and no murderer as you know, has eternal life within him."
"A murderer!" I said. "I don't hate him that much. I just don't like him—not one little bit."
Grandma nodded her head. "I can understand that. We're not likely to think much of people who are mean to us. But the Bible tells us what we can do about that too."
"It does? ... What does it say?"
"It says to love your enemies and pray for those that despitefully use you."
I thought about that for a moment. "That's a pretty hard thing to ask someone to do. I guess I could pray for Tommy, but I know I'd never love him!"
Grandma laughed. "You'd be surprised. It's awfully hard to dislike someone when you really pray for them. In fact, the person you pray for could turn out to be one of your best friends. That happened to me once."
"I want to hear about that," I said, so while I pulled strings of silk from the corn, Grandma began the story.
'It was the year I was in the third reader at school. My best friend Sarah Jane and I had shared a desk all through the years, and, of course, we shared everything else too. Then one morning I arrived at school to find someone else sitting on my side of the desk.
Miss Gibson was our teacher that year. She saw how surprised I looked. "Mabel, this is Alice. She is going to be here for the rest of the year. I didn't think you'd mind sitting in the extra seat so she wouldn't be alone."
Alice smiled at me, and right away I knew I didn't like her. I did mind giving up my seat, but I couldn't tell Miss Gibson that.
"Why don't you tell Miss Gibson that you don't want me to be moved?" I whispered to Sarah Jane as soon as I had the chance.
"I told her," Sarah Jane whispered back. "But she said she didn't think you'd care."
All morning I watched as Sarah Jane helped Alice find the place in the book, or showed her where to sit when we recited. The more I watched, the unhappier I became, and the less I liked Alice.
At recess they walked around the school yard together and talked to the other girls. When I could get Sarah Jane off by herself, I let her know how I felt.
"You like that new girl better than you do me," I stormed. "You've forgotten all about being my friend."
Sarah Jane looked hurt. "Why, no, I haven't, Mabel. You know I'd never forget that we're best friends. I have to be nice to Alice because she's new and doesn't know anyone."
I tossed my head and turned up my nose. "I don't have to be nice to her, and I won't either. She has no business coming here and taking my place."
I stalked off before Sarah Jane could reply, and at lunchtime I ate by myself, even though the girls urged me to eat with them.
As the days went by, I continued to snub Alice and be irritable with Sarah Jane. I had to admire the new girl, though. She was so pretty, with delicate features and long, shiny curls. I had curls too but I was definitely not delicate. And to make matters worse, Alice wore fluffy dresses with big sashes—it seemed like a new one every day. The contrast between her dresses and the plain ones with pinafores that I wore was almost more than I could stand.
One morning after Alice had been there for several weeks, I decided to change matters. I appeared at the breakfast table in my best Sunday dress.
"Where in the world are you going?" Ma asked.
"To school," I replied haughtily.
"Not in that dress," Ma said decidedly.
"But, Ma . . ." I began
"No buts," she replied firmly. "Back to your room and put on your school dress. Then come here and let me tie your ribbon."
"She wants to look like the new girl," Roy snickered.
"Alice wears a Sunday dress every day."
"Well, Mabel doesn't," Ma said. "I have better things to do than iron fancy dresses."
I glared at Roy, but I had no choice but to change my dress. I had already started the day off badly, and I was hardly surprised when it kept getting worse.
Almost the first thing I did at school was to fall over Alice's feet as I carried some books to the front of the room. The books flew every way, and, of course, the children laughed.
"She put her foot out there on purpose," I complained loudly.
"Oh, I'm sure she didn't," Miss Gibson said. "It was just an accident. Let's not even think about it again." She patted me on the back.
Maybe Miss Gibson didn't think about it again, but I certainly did. The longer I thought, the more convinced I was that Alice had deliberately tried to humiliate me. I rushed home after school to tell Ma the story.
"She did that on purpose to embarrass me, and I'll never forgive her for it, not ever!" I meant it too. But that evening at family prayer, Pa read some verses that sounded as though they had been written just for me.
"And when you stand praying, if you have a grievance against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive the wrongs you have done."
I looked at Ma, but she was listening, and didn't act as though she remembered what I had said. I was ashamed, and when it was my turn to pray, I asked the Lord to bless Alice. I felt better that night than I had anytime since she had been at school.
The next morning, Ma put some extra cookies in my lunch pail. "To share with your friends," she said.
I knew what she meant. And from that day on I began to find out what a lovely girl Alice really was. She became one of my best friends that year. I guess nobody really wants enemies.'
Grandma gathered up the corn to put it on the stove, and I wandered out to the barn to look for Uncle Roy. Grandma was right, I thought. And you don't have to have enemies either. If you pray for them, they turn into friends!
