From:-
TORCH TRUST, Torch House, Torch Way, Market Harborough, Leicestershire, LE16 9HL, U.K.
Telephone: +44 (0)1858 438260, Fax: +44 (0)1858 438275, email: info@torchtrust.org
Charity Number 1095904.
It's the end of the school year once again! That means holiday time!
"Spark" has a holiday as well - the month of August - so your next one will come in September. This is just as well, because you'll need plenty of time to get your hankies out! Why? Because our exciting serial story - "The Mystery of Pheasant Cottage" - ends this time.
But as well as hankies out, you'll also need plenty of time to enjoy the last part - it's a fantastic ending - and it's also long! - so long, that we now need to get straight on with the magazine.
So enjoy your "Spark" - and your holiday!
Love from Jill and everyone at Torch House.
by Paul Dallgas-Frey
Esau didn't like his brother too much! And he had good reason. Jacob was always taking his stuff.
Of course, it wasn't just taking his shirt without asking. And it was worse than borrowing his CDs, or taking the batteries from his CD player and not bringing them back (well, if he HAD a CD player!). It was worse than taking Esau's best bow and losing half the arrows (and not even bothering to look for them because they weren't HIS arrows), and bringing the bow back all bent and busted up and broken.
It was worse than all of that. Jacob had stolen Esau's blessing and his birthright. And Esau hated him for it. He hated his brother so much, that he once even said he was going to kill him. He hated him for a long time because of it. A LONG time.
So Jacob had to run away from home. And for years and years, it was as if they weren't brothers at all. It looked like Jacob and Esau would never be brothers that loved and cared for each other again.
That must have broken God's heart to watch.
But now, after all these years of being apart, Jacob was coming home. And Esau was coming to meet him ... with FOUR HUNDRED of his strongest men! Things didn't look good for Jacob. This just might be the end of it for him.
But Jacob had changed. He wasn't the cheater he used to be, and he was truly sorry for the things he had done.
Still, it seemed impossible that Jacob and Esau could ever be friends again. But, with God all things are possible.
If you remember from last time, Jacob just spent the whole night wrestling with God. It was morning now. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun was shining warm and bright when Jacob looked out over the rolling hills. And way off in the distance, he saw a cloud of dust. And just ahead of the cloud of dust, he saw a small speck. It was his brother Esau, leading his four hundred men right towards Jacob and his family!
"What is Dad doing now?!" Jacob's kids asked when Jacob started running around and telling them all to get behind him, like he was trying to hide them in with all the sheep and goats. "What kind of trick is he going to play on Esau now?" they joked with each other. But it was no joke. And Jacob was through with tricks.
The army of Esau and his men came closer and closer. Jacob could hear the slapping of the camel hoofs beating against the dry ground.
Jacob ran ahead of his family and bowed to the ground seven times before his brother, begging for forgiveness. He hoped his brother might at least spare his family. He didn't know what to expect.
Esau jumped off his camel and ran to his brother Jacob. He threw his arms around him with tears in his eyes, and said, "My brother! I have missed you so much!" Jacob could hardly believe what was happening.
"Seeing you is like seeing the face of God!" Jacob finally said with tears in his eyes too. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"Yes, I forgive you!" Esau said. "God has been so good to me. And now he has given my brother back to me!" And he threw his arms around his brother again and gave him another great bear hug.
They were friends again. God had brought them back together.
How wonderful to have a God who fixes things!
(taken from "Kids Alive", published by John Gowans, General of the Salvation Army)
Do you remember in the last "Women of the Bible" how Rebekah gave water to Abraham's servant? Well, many years later history repeated itself and Rebekah's son, Jacob, met Rachel at the same well and gave her water.
Rachel and Jacob fell deeply in love. Jacob agreed to work for seven years for Rachel's father, just so he could marry Rachel at the end of it. Unfortunately for the lovebirds Jacob was tricked into marrying Rachel's sister, Leah.
Jacob ended up having to promise to work another seven years so that he could marry Rachel (men could have more than one wife in those days). Rachel was his true love, and it was she who gave birth to Joseph - the one who wore the multi-coloured coat!
Why did the child study in the aeroplane? He wanted a higher education!
Which member of the England football team wears the largest hat? The one with the biggest head!
How do you start a jelly race? Get set!
Why don't leopards bother to cheat in exams? Because they know that they will always be spotted!
by Andrew Knowles
(taken from the Fount Children's Bible, published by Fount Paperbacks)
[This part of the story is based on Exodus chapter 3.]
[Moses is having a tough time. A Hebrew by birth but brought up in Pharaoh's palace in Egypt when he was found hidden in a basket in the river Nile, he now finds himself mistrusted by the Egyptians, because he killed an Egyptian who was mistreating the Hebrews, but also mistrusted by the Hebrews because of the Egyptian clothes he is wearing. So he has now fled to an area called Midian.]
Moses lived in Midian for forty years. He learned how to tend sheep, find water, fight wild animals, and steer by the stars. He was a shy man, but he managed to pluck up courage to propose to Zipporah, and together they had a son. They called him "Foreigner", because Moses still didn't feel at home.
He loved to talk to his father-in-law. Jethro told him more about the Living God, and told him the old tales of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
One day, Moses was feeding his sheep on the slopes of Mount Horeb, when he saw a remarkable sight. Nearby, a bush had burst into flame. Well, there was nothing unusual in that, because the sun was very fierce. The astonishing thing was that the bush wasn't in fact burning! It was standing, unharmed in the midst of the blaze.
And then Moses heard the Voice. And that was when he began to get really worried.
"Take off your sandals, Moses. You are standing in the presence of God!"
Moses quickly kicked off his shoes, and fell to the ground. He had heard a lot about the Living God, but to meet him face to face was another matter.
"Moses," God said, "the time has come to rescue the Hebrews from Egypt. They've been slaves there long enough."
"But how are you going to rescue them, Lord?" said Moses. "They'll need a leader to persuade them, and they'll need signs to convince them."
"That's where you and I come in," said God.
On the long road back to Egypt, Moses and his family happened to meet Aaron - his brother, whom he hadn't seen for years. They greeted each other with open arms.
"What brings you this way?" asked Aaron, "I was just on my way to see you!"
"The Living God is sending me back to Egypt," said Moses. "I must tell Pharaoh to set the Hebrews free!" Aaron was most impressed. "But you must come and do the talking. I'm so shy, and I'll never speak powerfully enough to persuade Pharaoh. But you're a great speaker. God will tell me what to say, and I'll tell you!"
It sounded a funny arrangement, but Aaron agreed.
[To be continued]
by Patricia St John
(published by Scripture Union)
[Lucy is visiting her father in hospital in order to say farewell to him before she returns back home with her grandfather. We start with the last few sentences from last time:]
"It's been a lovely holiday," I whispered, because my lips were trembling. "But ... but ... it's been rather a sad ending, hasn't it!"
He held me as close as he could.
"Not really," he said, "in fact, I sometimes think it's the happiest ending possible. You see, I've often felt sad about those years when we could have been together ... and all my own stupid fault ... so I'm glad I could give another little girl back to her parents ... I often wake in the night and feel so thankful I got there just in time ... and if I hadn't been ill I'd never have known your grandfather ... It all came right, Lucy; such a happy ending!"
* * * * * *
My father was breathless with too much talking, and the young nun, who had been hovering outside, came over and put one hand gently on my shoulder and the other on my father's wrist. I gave him a last kiss, and she led me away, but at the door I turned and smiled through my tears.
"It was a lovely holiday," I said in a voice that only trembled slightly. "Thank you, Daddy, thank you so much!"
"And thank you too, Lucy; thank you so, so much!" he whispered, and then the door was closed softly behind me. I had said goodbye; everything inside me seemed too big for me; there was a tightness in my throat and chest and behind my eyes, and I did not want to go straight back to the house. Why, oh why, did I have to leave him, just when he needed me so much to visit him and to fetch things and to pack his suitcase when he got better? Almost without knowing it, my feet had been carrying me across the market place toward the vineyards and the olive trees. Each time I'd gone there I'd found comfort, and now I needed it more than ever before.
The grape harvest had begun, and my old woman was there among the vines working hard, her little grand-daughter beside her. There were other people there too, and they stared curiously at me as I slipped toward her through the bushes. When she saw me she threw up her hands in delight, and pressed a grape into my mouth. Then she looked at me more closely and knew that I was in trouble. She squatted on the warm soil by her loaded basket and drew me down beside her. The vines made a private shelter round us, and I tried to tell her my sorrow. My father, I explained, with much waving of hands and pointing, was still in hospital. I, with much pointing sky-wards, was going to England in an "avion", a Spanish word used a lot by Pedro and Pepito. I'd come to say "adios". My eyes filled with tears again.
She understood at once, and murmured her sympathy, caressing my hands. Out of many incomprehensible words, there were some that I understood: "Jesus ... with me" ... "Jesus ... with you" ... "Jesus ... with your father."
"With me - with you;" Concha said that all day long. "Play with me ... I want to play with you." Of course I understood, and I was comforted. In my sadness I'd forgotten. I wasn't leaving my father alone. I was leaving him with Jesus, my Friend, who loved him very much, and who, so far, had made everything come right and answered my prayers. He'd be there in the quiet ward, and even if my father didn't know much about him, he knew all about my father. And the old nun was praying for Daddy, and I was too, and my grandfather liked him; all was well.
I picked two vine leaves to press in memory of that moment, kissed the old woman and left her, lamenting and calling down heaven's blessings on my head - at least that was what it sounded and looked like. Then, as I walked back with the load of my sadness partly lightened, I remembered something else - something that made me draw in my breath, clap my hands softly, and dance down the dirt track. I was going home to Granny and Shadow!
* * * * * *
When at last the letter came, I think I was almost expecting it. Nobody had told me; we had simply stopped talking about Daddy coming home.
But before that, several things had happened. As soon as we got home Grandpa told our vicar about my father, and he immediately got in touch with an English chaplain in the south of Spain who held services for visitors all through the summer, and he started to visit my father and send us news. And it was on a day that we had received a letter from him that Granny dropped her bombshell.
We were sitting at the window table eating our lunch on that ordinary September day, when Granny suddenly put down her knife and fork and said, "It's no use, Herbert! I just can't stand it any longer!"
"Stand what, my dear Elsie?" said Grandpa, rising to his feet in alarm. "Is there something wrong with the steak and kidney?"
"Certainly not," said Granny, "I made it myself. It's just that I can no longer stand the thought of that poor, brave husband of Alice's left to the mercy of a lot of foreigners. If we sold the antique cabinet I could go and put things to rights."
"My dear," said Grandpa, very flustered, "if you feel like that you must go. But not the antique cabinet, Elsie; that's been in your family for hundreds of years. I could sell some of the hens. They are a valuable breed."
"Nonsense, Herbert," replied Granny, "I believe you'd as soon get rid of Lucy as get rid of those hens! The cabinet was to have been left to Lucy, but no doubt she'd rather see her father properly cared for. No child, it's no use looking at me like that because you are not coming with me! School starts in a week's time and you must help take care of your grandpa. Oh yes, Herbert, I know you're very domesticated and all that, but you'll never remember to take your cough mixture unless someone reminds you. It's not that I want to leave you, but when I think of that poor, dear man stranded in that outlandish place, where nobody speaks a word of English, I could almost cry!"
She sniffed and almost did cry. I stared at her in amazement. No one had wanted to cry or called him a "poor, dear man" when he was in prison - perhaps because everyone spoke English in prison. But there was no doubt about it, something had happened. In short, we had become a family.
Granny was a woman of action. She visited the vicar that very afternoon who phoned the English chaplain, who promised to meet her and find suitable lodgings; and four days later Granny set off, dressed in her Sunday matching skirt and jacket with her best coat over her arm. She said that chaplains' wives abroad were always well dressed, and she would not believe how hot it was. Grandpa took her to the airport, and I stayed the night with Mary Blossom.
I was very glad to see Grandpa back, and we settled down to look after each other in a peaceful sort of way, although he almost lived from one letter to the next. Granny wrote nearly every day and seemed to be enjoying herself. She was actually staying with the English Chaplain, and his wife wasn't particularly well dressed. She mostly wore overalls; her daughter and grandchildren were staying with her, and Granny seemed to have become part-time nurse to the baby. She went to the hospital twice a day where she read aloud to my father and took down messages for me.
"But why can't he read himself, Grandpa?" I asked. "And why can't he write to me himself yet?"
"I don't imagine he's strong enough," said Grandpa looking distressed. And I think it was after that that we stopped talking about Daddy coming home.
I missed Granny a lot, but it was very restful living with Grandpa; and although the days were outwardly uneventful, for me they were days of great discovery. On first arriving home I'd hugged Granny and Shadow and then run upstairs to my room to see if my Bible was where I had left it, and it was. I'd been too excited and sleepy that night to open it, and next morning I'd overslept, and there was so much to do and see that first day that I only peeped at it. But on Sunday I'd gone to church with my grandparents, and church seemed different; no longer an old building where I had to go on Sunday, but my Friend's house, where I could talk to him, using those great words that others had used for centuries past as steps to God. "I believe in God the Father," I affirmed so loudly and joyfully that one or two people glanced round and smiled, and Granny looked rather anxious, because she didn't like my being peculiar. But I didn't care, for the words seemed singing themselves: "I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord, the Giver of Life."
Life! I'd been so near to death that the very word was precious. Concha, tipping on the slippery rubber dinghy, but she was alive. My father, lying so still and grey-faced on the beach, but he'd lived, and the figure on the crucifix at the hospital ... but he rose again. After dinner I went to my favourite seat on the rockery behind a screen of hollyhocks, and started to read the Gospel of John. "In him was life ..." I read very slowly on into the third chapter, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life."
I looked round. Everything was dying but it didn't seem important because everywhere there were signs of new life. The petals had fallen, but the rose-hips were swelling. The butterflies on the Michaelmas daisies had once been caterpillars, but each one had rolled into a chrysalis; the caterpillar had died; but the life had persisted. It had come bursting out of the chrysalis as a bright red admiral or tortoise-shell whose wings bore it sunward. "In him was life," and as I read, I understood, although at the time I could not possibly have put it into words. My Friend was not only Jesus who had lived on earth, and healed the sick, and been kind to children. He was God, and the everlasting life he had given me, was his own life - the life that had created the world and breathed in the spring and quickened the earth, and, if I believed, I was part of it all, and part of him. Then I thought of Daddy, and wished that he could believe too.
A week after Granny left I went back to school and enjoyed astonishing my friends with my stories of planes and the South of Spain, Gibraltar and the Mediterranean. I even talked a little Spanish to them and made quite a sensation. I did not say much about my father, but if anyone had asked me why, I could not have told them.
I was very busy helping Grandpa in the house and doing my homework, and had little time for reading. But I tried to read a little of John's Gospel every day. I had got up to Chapter 11, and on that Saturday, a fortnight after the beginning of term, Shadow and I went to the woods to pick blackberries, my little New Testament in my pocket. It was the first of October, and I was really excited for I knew Don would be home for the weekend. He had been away when I returned, and I hadn't seen him since my holiday.
I picked what blackberries I needed and then sat on a fallen tree trunk and read John 11. It was all there again, death and life: "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die," and I knew it didn't just mean that Lazarus came back; it was Jesus' own eternal life, so that those who believed never really died at all.
I put my little New Testament back in my pocket and went home, thinking about the apple and blackberry pie I would make for supper.
"Grandpa," I called at the front door, "where are you? I'll get dinner."
There was no answer. I glanced into the living room, and there he was sitting at the table, his face buried in his hands, an open letter in front of him. I stopped dead.
"Grandpa," I cried, "what's the matter?" and Shadow, sensing trouble, trotted forward, and laid his nose on Grandpa's knee.
He looked up quickly and his eyes were full of tears.
Then I knew, and realised that I'd known deep down ever since Granny had gone away. This was what I'd really been waiting for, and this was why life and death had seemed so important.
"My dear, dear Lucy," said Grandpa, "I don't know how to tell you ..."
"It's Daddy, isn't it?" I whispered, for my throat felt rather dry. "He's dead, isn't he?" Then I ran into Grandpa's arms and we cried together and Shadow licked us frantically in turn.
"He passed away on Wednesday," said Grandpa at last, "and Granny wanted you to have this letter as soon as you knew. He knew he couldn't last long. That was why he wanted you to leave - he wanted you safe and settled at home when you got the news. He wrote this letter just a little at a time on the days when he felt better. Would you like to read it here with me, my dear, or would you like to take it away by yourself?"
"I think I'd like to read it alone," I said, drying my eyes on Grandpa's handkerchief. "Do you mind if I go back into the wood for a bit?"
"Not at all, dear; just come and have your lunch when you're ready," said Grandpa, so I clutched my letter and went out, and Shadow, unsure of whom he was meant to be comforting, rushed after me and rushed back to Grandpa several times before he decided that my need was the greater. He trotted quietly beside me, his nose against my hand.
I could hardly bring myself to open the letter because it seemed so strange to be reading a letter from someone who had died. I went back to my tree trunk and looked round me. Autumn had come early that year and the trees, sun-kissed, were awesome in their dying. The beeches and silver birches were pale gold and the horse chestnut a vivid yellow. Acorns and shining conkers lay among the leaf drifts; seeds of life waiting their resurrection. I drew a deep breath and opened my letter.
It was quite long. He had written it on different days, a little at a time when he felt better, and in rather shaky handwriting. He told me how much he loved me, and how sorry he was about the years we'd missed when we might have been together. He spoke of Granny, how good she'd been, how thankful he was that we'd all got to know each other, how glad he was to leave me in such good care; and I read very slowly because the letter was nearly finished now, and he hadn't told me what I so wanted to know.
I drew another deep breath and read the last paragraph. "Don't be sad, Lucita. It's the best, happiest ending. I want to tell you that I know now that we shall see each other again - you, me, your mother. HE [Jesus] came just in time. The chaplain was a help, but it was you who first showed me. On the beach that day. It's like you said, the cross is behind and it's all bright in front ..."
The writing trailed off as though he had been too tired to finish and there was no signature. He had probably meant to go on, but he had written all I wanted to know. A robin on a mountain ash tree suddenly trilled for joy, and I looked up, through my tears, at the blurred gold and crimson colours. Daddy was right; it was all bright in front. He had passed through death into some springtime of life beyond, and for me too, nothing would ever be the same again. Daddy had opened up to me a whole new world of poetry and beauty; I'd seen the sea; I'd learnt to love Spain and Lola and Rosita - one day I would go back - and best of all I'd found out the real secret of eternal life: in Jesus there was life, now and for ever.
Shadow suddenly barked. I brushed away my tears and looked up again. Don was racing through the wood on his way to the cottage, a living, bounding creature leaping over the crimson brambles. He turned his head and saw me.
"Hurrah, Lucy," he shouted, "all safe home at last!" and he came careering toward me across the beech mast.
[The end.]