My little adventure

Deborah D. Totterdale

When I was eight years old, my family moved to a new neighborhood. All of the houses were on a hill, so the street outside our front door curved down or up, depending on which direction you looked. The day we moved in, I thought it would be fun to take my scooter down the long street in front of our house. Everyone else was busy unpacking and didn't know I had gone to do some exploring.

It was great to whiz down the hill. The sun was warm. The breeze felt good on my face, and I didn't have to push with my foot. When I got to the bottom of the street, I turned the corner. I alternated scooting and coasting down another road for many blocks. I turned again. My spirit of adventure had grown stronger. But soon, I realized I was lost. I saw a grassy island where the road split, so I scooted over to it and sat down.

For a moment, things looked hopeless. I couldn't remember how to get home, and it was tempting to cry. Then I remembered what I had been learning in Christian Science Sunday School. I was learning that God is Love, as the Bible teaches and that God, our Father-Mother, cares for each and every one of us. (That thought comforted me a lot.)

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