Aunt Rosemary Explains

It was very nearly the end of the holiday, and on the last Saturday, Mummy, Daddy, Aunt Rosemary, Jenny, and Kinza all started off early in the morning and went for a picnic far up in the mountains with a fat picnic basket.

They drove up and up past thatched villages until the road plunged down into the cool shadow of pine woods, where English primroses grew around the roots of the giant trees.

Jenny and Rosemary started picking bunches of the pale yellow flowers. Jenny wanted to tell her aunt her new secret. She must try to tell her today because there might not be another chance, but she did not know how to begin to say it. She prayed for the right opportunity to talk to her aunt. She was sure something very important had happened to her, and wanted she Aunt Rosemary to tell her what to expect next. The day passed, and she just didn’t seem to find the right moment to ask her.

They drove home in the evening, Jenny’s head leaning against her father’s shoulder. She was disappointed because she had not managed to speak to her aunt, and doubts were beginning to creep in. They were driving through a low-water meadow with white lilies growing in clumps by the river. Jenny suddenly remembered that the next day would be Easter Sunday, and she sat up quickly.

Jenny liked Easter Sunday. There were always white flowers on the breakfast table and big, colored Easter eggs around her plate. After breakfast they would go to church, which was decorated with white lilies and narcissi and bright daffodils, and the choirboys in white robes sang, “Jesus Christ is risen today … Alleluia!”

Here they would not go to church because there was no church to go to, but Jenny decided she could visit Aunt Rosemary early with some white flowers, and perhaps then she could tell her her secret. She laid her hand on her father’s arm.

“Stop, Daddy,” she said.

Mr. Swift stopped. “What’s up?” he inquired.

“I want to get something,” Jenny explained. She jumped out of the car and ran backward a little so that they could not see what she was doing. She raced across the field, gathered an armful of lilies from the water’s edge, wrapped them in her sweater, and raced back to the car.

“What have you got there, Jenny?” asked her father.

“A secret,” replied Jenny. “We can go on now!” Mrs. Swift, who had been watching her nimble little daughter through the back window, smiled and said nothing. It was not till Jenny was tucked in bed and the flowers were up to their necks in the water jug that she understood what it was all about.

“Mummy,” said Jenny, “it’s Easter Sunday tomorrow, and on Easter Sunday there are always white flowers. Can I get up very early and take my lilies to Aunt Rosemary as an Easter surprise?”

“Of course,” answered her mother. “What a lovely idea. She has been so kind to you, Jenny. You can go when you wake up. I expect you’ll stay and have breakfast with her. I’ll put your clean clothes out now.”

She laid out Jenny’s best dress and clean socks, kissed her good night, and left her. Jenny went to sleep at once, looking forward to the morning. Perhaps it was all going to turn out right after all.

She woke very early, just at the time when in England the church bells would start ringing to remind people that Jesus Christ had risen. She jumped out of bed, washed and dressed herself extra carefully because it was Easter Day, and set off.

She knocked at the door and Auntie Rosemary, who was up having her breakfast, appeared at the window, surprised at such an early caller. Seeing who it was, she ran down to open the door, and Jenny bounded in joyfully and held up her bouquet.

“White flowers for Easter!” she announced triumphantly. “I picked them yesterday without you seeing me.”

They went upstairs to where breakfast was laid on a white cloth, with a bowl of primroses in the middle of the table. They arranged Jenny’s flowers in a vase behind the primroses and sat down to enjoy themselves.

“It looks like a church at Easter time, doesn’t it?” remarked Jenny. “On Easter Sunday at home, Mummy, Daddy, and I always go to church. It’s a pity there isn’t a church here, isn’t it, so we could all go together?”

“Yes,” answered her aunt. “I really miss going to church. Yet you know, Jenny, it doesn’t really matter in a way. The main reason for going to church is to meet God, and we can meet God anywhere. I meet Him here every day in my room. Just now when you came I was reading the Easter story in my Bible.”

“Will you read it to me if you’ve finished eating?” asked Jenny eagerly, settling herself very comfortably to listen while Aunt Rosemary read to her.

“Jesus met Mary in the garden,” said Aunt Rosemary. “And He met some of the disciples in a little room, and He met two others on the road, and He met Peter on the beach. So you see, it isn’t really necessary to go to a building.”

“No,” said Jenny simply, lifting a bright face. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. The other day … the day you went to fetch Kinza … I thought He met me, up on the hillside. I asked Jesus to come and live inside me, like the light in the lantern, and stop me being selfish and cross. And I felt so happy and I thought He had come. But yesterday I began to wonder if it was all really true. Do you think He really came, Auntie? I don’t really feel very different.”

Aunt Rosemary was silent for a moment. Then she said quietly, “Jenny, how did Mary feel quite sure that Jesus had really come to her?”

“When He said her name,” answered Jenny. “It was easy for her. She heard Him and saw Him.”

“Yes, I know,” said Aunt Rosemary. “But it’s really quite easy for us, too, if only we believe that God speaks the truth. I’m going to read you something, Jenny, and then I’m going to tell you a story.”

“Good,” said Jenny, who loved stories. She wriggled close to look at Auntie Rosemary’s Bible. They read Isaiah chapter 43 verse 1:

Thus says the LORD: “… Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine.”

“That verse reminds me of Kinza the night we went to look for her,” said Rosemary, glancing at the lump in the corner where Kinza was sleeping. “She was living with me quite happily, but she was stolen and taken away from me. I love Kinza very much and I knew she’d be unhappy, so I went after her. I found her hungry and frightened and wanting me. She didn’t know I was there, but I knew she was there, so what did I do?”

“Shouted her name!” said Jenny with sparkling eyes. She knew this story well and would never tire of hearing it again.

Aunt Rosemary laughed. “Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I called her by her name. And what did Kinza do?”

“Hustled out from under her blanket in no time!” cried Jenny.

“Yes, she hustled out in no time,” repeated Aunt Rosemary. “She was unhappy and frightened, and she knew if she came out she would be safe and happy, so she didn’t stop to ask how or why or if it really was me. She knew it was me by the way I called her name, and she came straight into my arms and felt perfectly safe; she knew she could trust me. And that’s exactly what happened to you on the hillside, Jenny. You didn’t know much about Jesus; you were just miserable and tired of yourself. But Jesus knew all about you, and He wanted to make you good and happy. So He called you by your name, and you knew it was Him and you came at once and felt perfectly safe.”

“Only for two days,” answered Jenny.

“Yes, exactly,” agreed Aunt Rosemary; “That’s just what happened to Kinza. She hadn’t been in my arms two minutes before her stepfather began talking, and Kinza began to tremble and cry. I was holding her just as close, and loved her just as much, but as soon as she heard the voice of the man who had stolen her and beaten her, she began to feel afraid and wonder if it was all right after all. Sometimes we might worry and feel afraid and wonder if it’s all true. But our feelings don’t really matter very much, because Jesus doesn’t change. He holds us just as close and loves us just as much whether we worry about it or not.”

“Oh, I see,” said Jenny thoughtfully.

“Now listen to what happened next. I went up to Si Mohamed and I took some money out of my pocket and paid him, and if Kinza had been old enough to understand, I’d have said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Kinza. I’ve redeemed you—that means bought you back again. No one can take you away from me now. You’re my little girl forever.’ But I just whispered, ‘Don’t be afraid, Kinza; you’re my little girl now.’ And Kinza did a very sensible thing. She believed me and she stopped being afraid. Although that cruel man was still standing in front of her and talking, she just clung to me as close as she could and fell asleep in my arms and slept all the way home. The only way to stop feeling afraid is simply to believe what Jesus says. He rose again on Easter Sunday so that He could live in the hearts of everybody who hears His call and comes to Him.”

Jenny sat quite silent, thinking over what her aunt had said. She felt perfectly happy because now she understood what had really happened. Jesus had loved her and died for her and paid for her and called her and made her His own. All she had to do was simply come and believe Him.

They talked for quite a while after that, and then Kinza woke up and wanted her breakfast, and Jenny went skipping off through the sunshine to find her father and mother. But Rosemary sat very still, watching her curly-headed baby who sat with her face buried in her bowl of milk.

She had felt quite sure for the past few days that it was not safe for Kinza to stay with her any longer. As soon as the stepfather wanted more money, he could easily come and claim the child. For the next few years she must be taken somewhere out of his reach, and the obvious place was Jenny’s blind school.

And yet what Rosemary wanted more than anything else for Kinza was that she be brought up by someone who would teach her to love Jesus while she was still tiny. Now she knew the answer quite clearly. She would ask Jenny to teach Kinza, and pray that the Holy Spirit of God would teach Jenny what to say.