Little Guy

Maeve curled up on the sofa and looked at her parakeet. Her father had given her the little bird only a short time before he died. "This little guy will keep you company," Dad told her, and that was why Maeve had named him Little Guy.Dad had been gone six months now. Although Maeve was getting used to the emptiness his death had brought to the house and her life, she still missed many things--Dad in his place at the table, the sound of his laugh, the way he used to tap a goodnight signal on her bedroom door. There was a sadness in Mom's eyes too, and Maeve knew she missed Dad a lot.Maeve noticed that her parakeet was perched dejectedly in his little brass cage. She had cleaned the cage and gave him fresh water and seeds, but he hadn't chirped lately. "Mom, what's wrong with Little Guy?" Mom studied the little bird huddled on his perch. "He's molting. Did you notice all the feathers he's lost? Sometimes birds get droopy and stop singing during the molting period. He just needs a little time." Mom put an arm around Maeve. "You and I are a little like that right now. We've pretty much lost our desire to sing too, but Jesus knows how we feel, and He will be with us through this so we can keep singing His praises." "We can still sing even though we're sad?" asked Maeve. "I thought singing and praising God was something you did when you're happy or grateful for something.""It is," Mom said. "But, unlike your parakeet, we can still sing and praise God even when we're sad because Jesus died to save us and is always with us. He is still King over everything, and He knows we miss Dad very much and promises to care for us. Remember the wonderful promises we read from the Bible earlier this week?"Maeve nodded. "They mentioned that God cares for the fatherless--that's me--and widows--that's you." She gently poked a finger into the cage, touching the bird's soft green feathers. "I guess that's something I can sing about, even though I'm sad," she said softly. Little Guy cocked his head and ruffled his feathers. Then he chirped, almost as if he understood.–Phyllis I. Klomparens