sexual abuse is a reality for many, many children in our messed up world. The basic story is one of a friend of
mine although I have changed many details to protect her identity and a little girl I knew who also endured this
horror. Neither girl's mother believed her, so in my story, I gave her a mama who did.
My friend read this story, many years ago when I first wrote it for her and she told me it blessed her.
My prayer is that it will bless you too.
Our God...the great I AM, is indeed your Father and he loves you very much no matter what has happened to
you here on earth. Please know that He loves you more than you can ever imagine and that He does care very
very much.
own father. He always loved and
supported me. Never abused me in
any way. I am blessed beyond
measure. Thanks, Dad.
on the picture
of Aslan to
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The sound of her step-father’s footsteps on the stairs terrified Eva. Pulling the covers tightly over her head, she
pretended to be asleep, hoping he would leave her alone.
The door creaked open, letting a crack of light into the dark room. Rough hands pulled back the sheets, and he
dragged her out on the wooden floor, throwing a towel beneath her.
"Please, don’t do it again," she begged. "I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do anything you say."
"Shut up, you little slut. I saw the way you looked at me today. You want this as much as I do."
"No, it hurts too much." Eva tried to push him away, but he slapped his hand over her mouth and lowered himself on
top of her. She tasted blood from her lips cutting against her teeth with the pressure of his grip. Gasping for breath
between his fingers, she listened to his grunts and moans, hoping it would end quickly. Finally, he shuddered and
pulled away.
"Remember what I told you. Say anything and you’re dead," he snarled. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet
his stare. "Keep your mouth shut. Understand?"
She nodded, eyes wide with terror.
"Good. Now go to sleep. Your mother will be home in the morning. Make sure you clean your filthy little body up with
this." He kicked the towel. "Leave it in a plastic bag under the bed and I’ll take care of it. Don’t get your mess on
those sheets in your bed. Understand?"
"Yes."
Once he left the room, she crawled back to her bed, fingers clenched around the towel and looked out the open
window.
Eva hoped she might hear the song again. Drifting in through the starry night, a voice sang of a wondrous place
where little girls knew no fear, and she and Mommy would be safe forever. Closing her eyes tightly, she listened for
the music, but tonight she only heard wind in the trees.
Soft fur brushed her skin and she looked in astonishment at a huge Lion standing beside the bed.
"Who are you?" she whispered to the beautiful Lion, but she knew she needn’t fear Him. His tender eyes glistened
with tears.
"You’ve been crying too," she said. Reaching out from under the quilt she ran a hand over the silky mane. He
purred and began to sing.
"Oh Lion," her little voice quavered. "Oh Lion. . ."
With His face resting against hers, the Lion sang on, while Eva clung to Him silently. She didn’t know how to share
the pain in her shattered heart; the torment in her spirit, or the emptiness in her soul. Somehow the Lion's song
eased the pain a little and it seemed bearable.
An owl glided to rest on a tall tree outside the window, and silently observed the scene in the bedroom through
round orange eyes. A little girl lay fast asleep against a Lion’s mane, face still streaked with tears. The Lion looked
at the bedroom door, opened His mouth wide and roared, with such deep anguish and pain, the owl nearly fell from
his branch. Spreading his wings, the owl took flight and drifted into the fields surrounding the lonely house.
Eva slipped onto her pillow. The Lion sank down by her bed, resting a noble head on huge paws. As the child
moaned and tossed in her sleep, He opened His mouth and a beautiful melody reached into her dreams. At last,
she slept peacefully.
Nights blurred after a while but from that night on, the Lion always came. He arrived right before she heard the
stepfather climbing the stairs. She'd slip out of bed and hug the Lion tightly. Together, they would visit the most
beautiful places; places she never dreamed existed and where her step-father could not follow. The Lion's love
wrapped around her like a blanket, through which she felt no pain.
Each night, when those sin-stained shoes descended from the attic bedroom, the Lion would breath gently over an
empty form in the bed and her spirit would flow back into her body from the safety of His love.
One night, Eva’s mama caught the step-father leaving her bed. He told her mama she’d flirted with him, and tried to
pull him down for a kiss. Mama staggered and nearly fell as she ordered him from the room. They cried in each
other's arms for a long time. Her mama held that baby girl all night and rocked her to sleep.
She and Mama left the next day. The step-father leaned over Eva as she shoved clothes in a tattered suitcase.
"Your mother will never really believe you. She’s going to die of a broken heart," he told her.
The very next year, Mama died and went to join Eva’s real daddy in heaven. The doctors said cancer, but Eva knew
better. Her step-father’s prophecy had come true.
***********
Time slithered by, until one day, Eva found herself all grown up. The small trust fund Mama left behind, helped pay
for some of her college education but it couldn’t heal her broken heart and she lived alone.
When Eva lay in bed each night in that tiny apartment, all alone, she felt more like a little girl than the children she
taught each day at that inner-city school. The school’s resources were limited, and most of the children didn’t even
know a life outside of the concrete side-walk they played on each day. By the time they reached adolescence, most
of them were lost to the streets and the gangs. Eva knew her hopes for these children would never come any closer
than her own childhood dreams.
Hatred for her step-father formed a brick wall in her heart, and she dashed the hopes of any young man against it,
once they dared come too close. The key to her heart she kept buried, hidden deep beneath the denial of her pain.
She buried the memories of the Lion and His love right along with the truth of her past.
If not for the music box, it might have stayed hidden forever.
*************
One Sunday afternoon, Eva found herself downtown shopping for her best friend Kate’s birthday.
Eva walked past a small shop filled with a strange assortment of knick knacks and ornaments in the front display
window. In the center, sat a music box with a glorious lion painted on its lid. Distant memories flickered and she
trembled slightly. That’s odd. I’ve never noticed this shop here before.
The heavy wooden and glass door creaked and groaned when she pushed it open. Inside the smell of sweet
perfume drifted in the air like the old-fashioned roses her mother had grown in the garden at their house so many
years ago.
A bell tinkled, and a white-haired man greeted her, eyes sparkling.
"Good afternoon, young lady."
"How much is the music box?" Eva asked, pointing to the window display.
"It’s not for sale."
"Not for sale." She repeated the words slowly. "Thank you." She managed a polite smile and turned for the door.
"Just a moment," the old man said. He walked up and took the music box out of the window.
"He said I’d know," he chuckled. "Gracious me, I can’t sell this to you. I can only return it to the rightful owner. I
always knew you’d come back for Him one day."
He placed the music box gently into her trembling hand.
"Come back for him? I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. I’ve never seen this before. I saw it through the window and.
. ." She paused. Why had she entered the store?
"Your Father doesn’t make mistakes, my dear."
She searched his crinkly grey eyes for an answer to his cryptic words.
"My father? No, you don’t understand. My father died when I was still a little girl."
"I see," he said, and glanced up at the clock. "Oh my, so late."
He shooed her out the door before she could protest, and flipped a little sign around so it read "Closed". Eva stood
in the street alone, clutching the music box.
Late that night, alone in her bedroom, Eva took the music box from the bag. Whoever painted this Lion is an
incredible artist. It looked so real. The sweet smell of cedar wood drifted past her when she opened the lid. A small
piece of paper lay inside. She reached in and picked it up.
On the front of the tract stood the Lion, the same one painted on the music box lid. A lamb lay beside Him and the
words on the front read: "Behold The Lamb of God." Inside, it spoke of God’s love for her, and of Jesus’ sacrifice on
the cross.
Putting the paper down, she turned the key on the back of the music box. The melody of the Lion’s song filled the
room and floated around her like a warm embrace. How could I have forgotten this song?
Eva knelt by the bed and cried as years of torment, pain and bitterness flooded from her wounded soul.
"Where were you, Jesus? Where were You? Why did it have to happen at all?" Eva sobbed.
She felt the touch as though in a dream and heard the whisper like the wind through the trees, so many years ago,
and knew He had been there. She watched in her mind as He struggled up a hill, beaten beyond recognition and
hung naked on the cross - for her.
He understood suffering by one who didn’t deserve the pain.
The music box stopped and she stared out the window, listening to the words being whispered to her heart:
"If you will show My mercy to the one who brought the pain,
My Love will bring the healing and My Grace dissolve the shame.
Go to him. Confront him. Show My mercy."
"I don’t know if I can," she said to the empty room.
************
Eva approached the nursing home room, clutching Kate’s arm.
"Listen hon, we don’t have to do this. You look pretty pale," Kate said.
"I have to, Kate."
"Then we didn’t come a day too soon. The staff told me he doesn’t have long to live - cancer. They aren’t expecting
him to make it through the end of this week. I’ll be right here. Take as long or as short a time as you need." Kate
hugged her.
With a grim smile, Eva slipped through the door, closing her eyes for a quick prayer before daring to look.
A frail grey-haired man lay sleeping.
Years of emotion rushed at the dam in her heart, threatening to burst through. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t
do it. Shaking her head, she turned to leave.
A huge lion stood in the doorway, coat glistening like spun silk, eyes radiant as the sun. He met Eva’s astonished
stare with a look of such deep compassion, she felt completely embraced by His love. The Lion looked back at the
bed and a single tear slipped to the floor from those majestic eyes.
Eva followed the Lion’s gaze.
An old, sick man confined to a life at the mercy of others. Suddenly she understood the Lion’s tears. He cried for
the guilty one. He loved the man on the bed. He loved us all while we were yet sinners.
Fighting back tears, she walked to the bed and cleared her throat.
A pair of watery old eyes flew open, puzzled, then widened in recognition.
For one brief moment, in those windows to the soul, she saw his torment.
The old man dragged himself up and reached for his buzzer.
"I have nothing to say to you," he stammered. "Get out."
Eva looked at the Lion for support, and continued.
"Listen, I didn’t come to condemn you. I’m not the one who’ll judge you for what you did to me. I came to tell you,
God loves you. He would have died on the cross for you alone."
"I’m an old man. I’m dying. Leave me in peace." He scowled.
Sucking her breath in, she turned in time to see a huge tear splash to the floor from the Lion’s cheek.
This time, the tear belonged to her and it soothed her pain.
"I’ll bet you never had a father who loved you either, did you? You never spoke of him. I don’t know. But, God the
Father loves you more than you could possibly know and He longs to welcome you into His arms." The words
tumbled out of her mouth and she wondered where they came from.
"Get out of my room," he snarled.
"I'll leave this here. If I can’t tell you about Him, maybe you’ll read about Him." Placing a tract on his bedside table,
Eva left the room without another word. She ran her fingers through the Lion’s mane on her way through the door,
and her heart became whole again, just as He promised.
Kate hugged her tightly.
"I’m okay...really," she assured her friend. "I’m glad I came. He is suffering more than I could have guessed,
because of what he did. I saw it in his eyes. Funny thing is, I don’t want him to suffer. Weird, huh?"
Kate nodded. "Yeah, but I’m glad you came. You look different. Kind of like a cloud's been lifted away. Come on, let’
s go home."
The two young women walked away without looking back at Room 102.
Inside that room, a withered hand reached over and picked up the tract. Eyes that once held the power to wither a
young girl, looked at the Lion on the front page and peered through thick glasses to read the words written inside.
The old hands shook so hard the paper slipped from the bed onto the floor.
A huge Lion waited in the corner of the room.
The old man sank down in his bed and wept for a long time Finally, he spoke so quietly, someone sitting right next
to the bed would have struggled to hear him.
The Lion, however, heard each word as clearly as a bell on a frosty morning and lifted His eyes to listen to the
thunderous rejoicing of the angels in heaven. He began to sing.
The old man closed his eyes and rested.
When the night nurse walked in, paper cup in her hand, she noticed the crumpled tract on the floor, and set it back
on the dresser.
"You won’t be needing sleeping pills tonight after all," she said, staring down at the sleeping man.
Placing the pills back on her trolley, she headed for the next room, wondering again what transpired between the
old man and his visitor earlier today. He’d really sparked the staff’s interest when he made a phone call after she
left, and his attorney visited him. The staff took votes and decided he probably wanted a restraining order placed
against her. Mean old coot doesn't deserve visitors anyway, she thought, leaving the room.
Later that night the old man opened his eyes briefly and looked around. He leaned over, picked up the tract and
holding it to his chest, shut his eyes one last time.
A small boy in bib overalls and a bright blue plaid shirt leaped from the bed and looked around. Seeing the Lion
waiting there, he shouted for joy. Running to Him, the boy threw his arms around the Lion’s soft mane and hugged
Him tightly.
"Is it really time to go home, Lion?"
The Lion didn’t speak out-loud, but the boy heard Him.
"I knew it! I haven’t seen You for so many years. I forgot all about You, until tonight when I read the tract she left,"
he said. He hugged and kissed the Lion over and over again.
The Lion purred and together they walked to a door that didn’t lead back into the nursing home.
"Wait. . ." the boy said, looking back at the bed where an old body lay in deathly silence.
He ran back to the bedside table and picked up a piece of paper and a pen.
He wrote some words, paused and wrote some more. Tears fell on the paper. Finally, he folded the sheet in half,
wrote a name on the front, and slipped it under the old man’s hand.
Together, a Lion and a little boy walked through a brightly lit door and vanished.
*********
Eva received a phone call from the nursing home later that night.
"He died. They said he left me a note and they’re going to send it. It probably says Don’t come back again. Guess
that won’t be a problem."
"Probably," Kate replied.
Several weeks later she arrived home to find the promised note. She opened a tear-stained paper.
I would not speak to you today because I couldn’t imagine you didn’t hate me, even despise me for what I did to
you. Then I saw Him on the cover of the tract you left. You probably think this is just a crazy old man talking, but
when I was a boy, He used to visit me and He helped me through terrible times. If only I hadn’t forgotten Him, our
lives could have been so different.
I hope you will find it in your heart to truly forgive me. Thank you for showing me the way home to Him, before it was
too late.
Your stepfather
*************
Eva never saw the Lion on earth, after that day, but He promised she would see Him again. She married and grew
old with a husband who loved her dearly. She told her grandchildren stories about the Lion and showed them the
music box. Each of them held it and listened to the beautiful song it played.
The Lion painted on the front of the music box never faded, no matter how many years went by.
She took her children and grandchildren to visit the stepfather’s grave, and told them how, several months after he
died, she discovered he’d left his entire estate to her. She’d given the money to the school where she worked to
build a new library and a gym. She also put a new headstone on his grave. Etched into the stone was a magnificent
Lion, a music box and a verse from the Word of God that read
Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them; for it is to those who are childlike that the
Kingdom of the Heavens belongs."
(Matthew 19:14)
******************
Many years passed and still people visited and saw the headstone there. Few passed by without comment, and
many admired the beautiful lion on the stone. Some swore they could hear the sound of a music box playing
somewhere in the distance and their hearts would be filled with a peace and love they could not explain.
For those whose hearts were open, the song they heard went like this. . .
"Let little children come to Me," So says our blessèèd Lord; And I, a little child, must be Obedient to His Word; On
Sabbath days must sing His praise, And bow before Him, for He says, "Let little children come to Me, Let little
children come."
"Let little children come to Me," It is my Savior's call; He spake it not to two or three, But to the children all; And so,
when they His law obey, It is as if they heard Him say, "Let little children come to Me, Let little children come."
"Let little children come to Me," O Father, Lord, I come; Through life and death I'll go with Thee, Thine arms shall be
my home. I cannot fear when Thou art near; And Thy sweet words I seem to hear, "Let little children come to Me,
Let little children come."***
***Words: James Reed, in The Hosanna (New York: New Church Press, 1920).
Music: "Suffer Little Children," George Frederick Root
: "Suffer Little Children,"