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by Jennifer Mobbs
2/11/2013 / Short Stories
As a little girl I loved animals. But since my parents had separated I lived in an apartment with my Mother across town from my Father, so pets were not an option. I also had to share a room with one of my brothers, our other brother stayed with my Father. Of course this didn't stop me from catching anything I could and bringing it home; frogs, snails, fire flies, even little lizards, anything that couldn't out run me. Finally after much pleading and begging my Mother got me fish from the Five and Dime Store. A single little fish in a tiny glass bowl with pretty rocks at the bottom. Well, as you can guess the fish only lived a few weeks. I was heart broken, I had fed the fish every day, changed his water, named it, but still my little fish died. A few days later I came home from school and sitting on the kitchen counter was the most beautiful big fish bowl I had ever seen. It had a tall blue castle in the center with holes in it for the fish to swim through and there were two fish, two fantail goldfish. I was amazed and named them "Goldie" and "Herman". The fish were a gift from my Father. To this very day I can see that fish bowl and those fish gliding through the water in and around that blue castle. My Father had made the despair of losing my first little fish disappear and he had replaced it with something so much greater, better than I could imagine.
My parents had been separated for almost two years and although I had grown use to the separation, I longed for them to be together, for all of us to live together again in a real house. Not being around my Father very much actually made me see him as a larger than life person. If I lost something he would replace it; if I got sick he would come over and hold my hand. He would pick up my brother and I and take us to fun places leaving my mother to deal with the homework and discipline. But then my dream came true and my parents reconciled. My Father and brother moved into our tiny two-bedroom apartment. My parents spent the weekends looking for a house to move the family into when my mother received an invitation to a party in the country, a real back yard bar-b-queue. My parents jumped at the chance to get out of our cramped apartment even if it was just for afternoon. It was a long drive so my parents decided to take me with them. I was in complete awe when we finally arrived. We turned off the road and drove down a long, winding driveway that lead to a big white two-story house. I had never seen anything like it and there were no other houses close by. The first thing that caught my eye; kitten's running around everywhere. Of course that became my goal to play with each and every one of those kittens. But first I was introduced to the Host of the party and we were given a short tour of the home. In the back yard about 50 feet from the festivities was a very large German Shepard dog. His name was "King" and the owner brought me over to meet him and pet him. I noticed he was on a very long chain held by a stake in the ground. Even though King was in the sitting position I looked him eye to eye, I wasn't scared, he sniffed me and gave me a lick.
Now I was free to roam around the large yard and find those cute little kittens I wanted to hold so much. My parents were visiting and enjoying the party and I was having a ball picking up each one of the different kittens, there were so many I lost count. I noticed a kitten that I hadn't seen yet run around the corner of the house. I started after the kitten. The next thing I knew I was pushed down from behind with such force that I fell face down into the grass. Standing over me was King, the German Shepard. I turned my head to the side just slightly; the sound of his growling was so loud that it almost drowned out the screams of the people at the party that had noticed what had just happened. I could feel his hot breath on my face and my neck as he continued standing over me. Over all the screams the only voice I could hear was my Father's; I heard him yell, "Jenny, be still don't move!" The sound of his voice was so soothing yet so strong even though he was at least 25 feet away from me. I felt no fear and I lay still just as my Father said, completely still. It took the owners more than 20 minutes to get King to calm down and release me. Of course what I didn't know was a crowd of 50 or more people where about to witness a one-hundred pound plus German Shepard dog rip into my throat and kill me. It was as if the dog had been possessed and saw me as prey. Even King's owners were afraid to get near him. Once they got control of the dog and removed him from over me, my Father instantly scooped me up like Superman and whisked me away to safety. He sat me down on a picnic table while he and my crying mother dusted off my dress and checked me over, only to find a few scratches and bruises.
As I grew into a teenager and started making my own decisions, I found my Father couldn't always fix everything, he allowed me to learn on my own that some times the decisions we make are our own responsibility, and that "Daddy's" are not Super Men, but in fact only human.
The day I was attacked by King I should have died, and no one here on earth could have changed that. However, God had different plans for me that day and although the attack was meant for evil it became a life lesson of God's Love and Faithfulness that I have never forgotten.
As we get older and life becomes more complicated, with families of our own, bills and work; we can't hear clearly when God speaks to us. Our minds are so cluttered with the sins in our lives, the things of this world, with our worries, regrets, failures and our accomplishments. We seem to lose the ability to hear what God is saying over the roar of the world we have created for ourselves. All the while our Father is speaking to us, telling us; Be Still, Don't Move and Listen. What I have for you will save you and I will pick you up and dust you off, and yes you may have a few scratches and bruises, but those will heal. So come to Me, what I have for you is so much more than you can possibly imagine.
I have been writing all my life, I just didn't realize it until I was my late 40's. I hope my experiences can help others who have gone through similar trials.
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