The Little Gray Twig that Flowered

[Written Especially for Children]

DORIS L. MILLS

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!

When the children's mother saw the little gray twig she thought: It is lying at the foot of the forsythia bush. It must have been broken off the forsythia bush. It must be forsythia. Then she knew it had possibilities. She saw in her mind's eye, not a little gray dead twig, but bell-like flowers of grace and beauty. She knew what was in the little gray twig. She was not taken in by her eyes. She knew that since it was a forsythia twig it was of the nature of forsythias; and if given what it needed—water and light and warmth—it would bloom, would unfold in beauty. She knew that although it had broken away from the parent bush, its whole being was of the nature of its parent.

And so, full of faith, she took it into the house, and put it in water in the window: and she and the children waited.

For several days the little gray twig just looked a little gray twig, and nothing more. How silly—one might have thought—to take any trouble with a little gray stick! But the eyes of faith saw farther. The sun shone down upon it, giving it warmth and light. The cool water in the vase nourished and refreshed it. The love of the children and their mother watched daily, expectant and sure. Then, behold, the tight little buds unfolded, and slender points of greenish yellow uncurled; and one morning a yellow bell was ringing. The little gray twig was in flower!

Seven bells there were; and they made beautiful music in the room, for those with ears to hear it. And the children and their mother were full of joy; and they heard the bells ringing!

When Jesus was here on earth, what did he do with little gray twigs? We are told that he went about doing good. "He knew what was in man," we read in John's Gospel; and in Peter, who had denied him thrice, he saw the strength of a rock. And in the light of his understanding and the warmth of his love, Peter became a great and strong disciple and Jesus' friend.

Christ Jesus said, "I am the light of the world." That light fell on Peter. He gave of the water of life. And Peter partook of that healing water. With what result? He later healed the sick, and even raised the dead, as we read in the book of Acts.

Do any of us feel like the little gray twig? Then we need to feel the sunlight of the Christ falling upon us, just as it fell upon Peter.

But what gave Jesus such faith in man, such transforming power? Mrs. Eddy has explained it to us. "Jesus beheld in Science the perfect man," she writes in "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" (pp. 476, 477), "who appeared to him where sinning mortal man appears to mortals. In this perfect man the Saviour saw God's own likeness, and this correct view of man healed the sick." So, just where his fellow disciples beheld in Peter a wayward, impulsive, unsteady mortal, like shifting sand, Jesus beheld a rock—strong, dependable, a pioneer Christian, a good practitioner.

And through Christian Science we all may learn to behold the perfect man, and to become little practitioners and helpers. Yes, through Christian Science we all may do, as Jesus did, as Peter later did, works of healing, as we learn to see in ourselves and others not sick or naughty or troublesome or selfish mortals—not broken gray twigs—but God's own image, healthy, good, kind, unselfish, and beautiful as forsythia flowers as they ring their golden bells.

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