Lets get back to parables.

What is a parable? The 1828 Webster's dictionary (my personal favorite) describes a parable as a "fable or allegorical relation or representation of something in real life or nature, from which a moral is drawn for instruction…" Those are pretty fancy words, especially for someone like me. So let me explain them to you through a story:

There was a man with a hard heart. He was a soldier who had seen pain beyond understanding. He looked death in the eye many times. The sight of his dear friend being torn apart by a mine buried in the battlefield made him feel as though he was living in a nightmare, one that every moment he couldn't escape. One thing kept him going: his wife and unborn child.  He was determined to get home to them and be the father that that child needed.

Many months passed, and he kept going, his heart beating more for them every day. He imagined their reunion in his mind, and it kept him fighting. Finally, the day came; he was on his way home! The trip couldn't have gone faster; he shook his leg the whole flight and smiled at the thought of seeing his daughter for the first time. Though he hadn't received a letter since the one that told him Dalia, his wife, was pregnant, the child at least had to be 6 months by now.

The plane landed, and he had his bag over his shoulder, standing on the escalator slowly moving down, but he stepped past others in front of him even as the steps were moving. He looked around, hoping to make eye contact with his sweet Dalia and their daughter in her arms. He scanned the crowd searching and searching, but all he could see was his mother and father-in-law. Once the stairs hit the floor, he walked to them and hugged them both around their neck still searching for his love. "Where is she?" he asked frantically, worry beginning to build up inside of him. "She's not here, Frank," His Father-in-law replies.

"Well, where is she?" Frank asks, his lips quivering with fear. "Let us show you, honey," His Mother-in-law says, placing her arm upon his shoulder. His hands shaking and feet moving slowly, he follows his in-laws to their car.

He fears the worst, hoping that they're simply going to throw him a surprise party or something. But from the look of his in-laws, the worst may have happened. They drive and drive; each turn onto a road leads them to the place where he feared they might go. They arrive at the cemetery.

He opens his car door and runs to the only grave caked with sunflowers and daisies, Dalia's favorites. He drops to his knees on the freshly placed dirt. The grave has not one name but two carved onto the stone. His wife, Dalia, only 25 years old, and his daughter, whom they named Daisy, not even a day old. "She and Daisy left to be with the Lord during childbirth," His mother-in-law says.

Every day he visited the grave, and every day his heart became more like the stone he gazed at. He ate, he slept, and he walked 10 miles from his in-laws' home to the cemetery. He didn't say a word; his heart turned to stone. Everyone tried everything to chisel away the stone, but no one could even get him to crack.

One day, as he gazed upon the grave, a young lady who was a dear friend of Dalia came to talk with him in the cemetery. She was similar to Dalia in the way that she too had a husband that fought in the war. "Frank? My name is Grace, and I knew your wife Dalia very well," she said to him, but he still looked upon the grave, not even acknowledging her presence. "I know what you're going through. My husband, he passed away overseas; he fought alongside you. From your letters to your wife, you even mentioned him as a close friend of yours," she said. "Billy? You knew Billy?" he asks quietly, still looking at the grave. "Yes, he was my husband. When he died, I ended up just like you. I sat and gazed upon his grave until I met someone," She looks at him, hoping to find the slightest bit of life, but she could still sense a deep coldness in his demeanor. She knew from her own previously experienced despair, nothing would open his heart except Christ, so without hesitation she opened her Bible.

She read Isaiah 53:4-5, "Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows, Yet we esteemed Him stricken. Smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by his stripes, we are healed."

She shut her Bible, now seeing tears stream down his face. He looked her in the eye and asked, "Who did you meet?"

"Jesus Christ," she answered, "And only He truly knows what it is you feel."

That day as she shared her faith more with Frank, he accepted Jesus Christ into his heart, and he and the girl who led him to Christ went to visit the graves of those they lost together. Every day turned into every week, and every week turned to every month. Eventually, they could only visit once a year. Now married to each other and with three kids, it was difficult to go every day.

The End

Jesus is the only way to mend your sorrows. He's the only one who understands your pain. Not only does He relate to our pain, but to our everyday lives; He used parables to relate to us, and they were easy to understand because we can see ourselves as that prodigal son or the lost sheep. Some of you might be able to see yourselves as Frank before you met Christ, sorrowful and miserable, but Jesus is the only one who can truly bring you joy. Or even as a Christian, sometimes we grow sorrowful because we forget our first love, Jesus, and we need only come back to Him for the joy of His salvation to be restored unto us. To be reminded of His unchanging character and the truth of the gospel in our life.

This is something that I like to do: come up with stories, and I intend to do so in the future. I believe that stories have a way of connecting to people; they have a way of relating to them. God has blessed me with a large imagination, and I'd like to use that imagination to give Him glory by blessing you all with some of the many short stories that I will come up with. As Christians, we are to look up to Christ and take after His example; the word Christian does mean 'Christ-like' after all. So just as Christ shared the truth with His people through parables, I'd like to do the same. I hope you enjoy them as I write them and that you will see Christ and seek the truth in His word.

God Bless!

~Holly