God’s Magical Dust (audio)/ A Children’s Story

 
Her skin was as dark as a chocolate candy bar and her teeth as white as the feathers of the whitest turtle dove. Black as midnights were the curls of wool upon her unblemished head. Curls that glistened in the sun’s rays as it pierced every oiled strand. I wondered why she fashioned it so for mine was very different as it hung in golden ringlets down my tiny frame. My hair was soft and silky because mother brushed it well each day. We were different Sarah and I as every eye could clearly see. Yet she cooked and cleaned our house each day for the few extra dollars my mother could spare from her work.

There was NO difference in our hearts buried deep within our earthly shells that housed the spirit and soul of us both. We were just two flowers of beauty God painted with His brush dipped in paint made from magical dust.

Our kitchen pots bubbled as the aroma filled every nook and cranny in the house. The delicious smell of pinto beans Sarah seasoned with a saved ham hock tickled my nose and gave my tummy a few hunger pains. Her strong hands mixed the cornmeal and stirred it just so. Once browned in the oven Sarah and I ate pinto beans and cornbread for our lunch. Neither her family nor ours were blessed with rich foods like kings but it filled and warmed our bodies just as well.

The rocking chair moved to the sound of Sarah’s old spiritual songs. I watched her lips sing these words:
“Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
If you get there before I do
Coming for to carry me home
Tell all my friends, I’m coming too
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing down chariot stop and let me ride cause I got a home on the other side.”
(Song by Wallace Willis Prior to 1862)

I sat locked in the arms of my nanny a woman as black as the ace of spades but only on the outside where the eyes of man could see. She was just a woman born into a family who were less fortunate than ours. In my eyes, we shared a love that color could never divide.

Red blood coursed through both our bodies not purple or green or blue. The same color blood that Jesus had when He was born in Bethlehem’s manager over 2000 years ago. The same color blood that soldiers the entire world over have spilled on battlefields just to keep both of us free. Little did I know back then, another man’s blood would come and rescue a sickly little soul like me.

I went to visit Sarah at her home not too long ago. It was a shack of a house with just three rooms, a kitchen, a bedroom and a sitting room. The wooden outhouse sat some distance from the house. It was just a boarded up box with a cut out hole you could sit upon. There was no running water, toilet paper or electricity in Sarah’s earthly home. I could clearly see though she had little here, her mansion was carefully laid up in heaven where rust will never corrupt. Her eyes still smiled that same warm smile and the touch of her hand carried me back to my childhood days. So little had changed for Sarah yet her soul glistened like diamonds in the rain as she sang the old song from her younger days.
I listened and remembered it well.

EZEK’EL (EZEKIEL) SAW THE WHEEL
Wheel, oh, wheel
Wheel in de middle of a wheel
Wheel, oh, wheel
Wheel in de middle of a wheel
‘Zekiel saw de wheel of time
Wheel in de middle of a wheel
Ev’ry spoke was human kind
Way in de middle of a wheel
Way up yonder on de mountain top
Wheel in d middle of a wheel
My Lord an’ de chariot stop
Way in de middle of a wheel
‘Zekiel saw de wheel
Way up in de middle of de air
’Zekiel saw de wheel
Way in de middle of de air
De big wheel run by faith
Little wheel run by de grace of God
Wheel in a wheel
Way in de middle of de air
Wheel, oh, wheel
Wheel in de middle of a wheel

Ezek’el saw the heel
’Way up in the middle o’ the air
Ezek’el saw the wheel
’Way in the middle o’ the air
The big wheel moved by faith
The little wheel moved by the grace o’ God
A wheel in a wheel
’Way in the middle o’ the air
Jes’ let me tell you what a hypocrite ‘ll do
’Way in the middle o’ the air
He’ll talk about me an’ he’ll talk about you
’Way in the middle o’ the air
Watch out my sister how you walk on the cross
’Way in the middle o’ the air
Yo’ foot might slip an’ yo’ soul get lost
’Way in the middle o’ the air
You say the Lord has set you free
’Way in the middle o’ the air
Why don’t you let your neighbor be
’Way in the middle o’ the air (author unknown)

Sarah’s black woolen hair has turned white now and she feebly makes her way from day to day. My golden blonde curls that once fell down my back are turning white as well. The years have taken from both of us it can be clearly seen to the naked eye. Sarah made special memories of solid gold that no one can take from either of us. All her treasures she carefully laid up in heaven where the moths and dust can’t mess them up.

I’ve seen it doesn’t make any difference how much money you might have or the color of your skin. God made us all to be family not to be separated by the paint from His magical dust. The most important words to remember are “In God Do We Place Our Trust!”

Gen 1:26-31 Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.

Dedicated to Sarah Huntley
Written by Sybil Shearin
All Rights Reserved
Copyrighted 8-2011

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