The Little Gray Twig that Flowered

[Written Especially for Children]

Now this is the story of the little gray twig that lay at the foot of the forsythia bush on the cold gray earth. There was nothing beautiful about the little twig. It was short and gray, broken at one end and quite dead, as far as the eye could see. Therefore, when the children's mother picked it up to take it into the house, the children were surprised.

It was early spring. The snow still lay in places upon the ground. Not a snowdrop or a crocus had yet pushed up its nose through the earth. The little gray twig had lain there for days on the ground, so uninteresting—a little colorless stick!

There is No Fear in Love
August 18, 1934

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