Becky’s Bramble
Part Two
See also: Part One
“Are you ready to hear more about the bramble story?” Mom asked one afternoon, as they were snapping beans on the back porch. The two foster boys, Todd and Benny, were too busy playing in the sandbox, but Joseph and Jessica were eager to listen.
“The story about Becky?” Jessica asked. “I’ve been wondering if she will get rid of her bramble plant.”
“Too bad Todd doesn’t want to listen,” Joseph added. “Last night he told me that he was mad because he never did anything right, so I told him that Jesus could change his heart. He didn’t seem to like that idea very much, because he changed the subject.”
“Yes, most people don’t want to deal with their problems. It is easier to change the subject and make excuses than to face how serious it is to sin against God,” Mom said. “When we ended Becky’s story last time, she was looking at the thorny thief-vines crawling under her fence, remember?”
“And Mrs. Sharp said she would call the police if she didn’t get rid of them,” said Jessica. “Does she?”
“Let’s see,” said Mom, as she began:
Becky stood outside her gate and glared across the street at Mrs. Sharp’s yard. “I’m not going to obey any old busybody. Just look at the thistles in her ditch!” Becky muttered to herself. “No one is going to make me chop up my bramble, because I don’t want to!”
“Well, what are you doing out here?” Becky heard a kind voice say. She looked up to see Mrs. Wise.
“I’m chopping off these bramble vines,” Becky said in a small voice, and swung the hoe. Mrs. Wise just looked at her.
“They aren’t much of a problem, really. It was just because….” Becky’s cheeks turned pink as she tried to think how she should tell about the accident. “It was the mail carrier’s fault. He was riding too close to my fence yesterday!” she finished.
“The mail carrier?” Mrs. Wise looked surprised. “Was it your bramble that sent him to bed all bruised and bleeding? I was over there last evening to help his wife bandage him up.”
Becky didn’t know what to say. She had only been thinking of herself and hadn’t thought of what her bramble had done. “Was he hurt bad?” she asked at last.
“Not so badly hurt as you are going to be, if you let this thing keep growing,” Mrs. Wise said soberly. “Have you heard of Burning Day, Becky?”
Becky shook her head. “It is the day when all the gardens of Peopleville will be inspected. Those that have weeds in them will be burned up.”
“Burned up?” Becky asked, looking worried. “But what if you can’t get rid of the weeds, no matter how hard you try?”
Mrs. Wise looked up at the giant bramble. It was nearly as tall as the house now. “How hard are you trying, Becky?” she asked quietly. “Last time you told me you liked it there.”
The tears came to Becky’s eyes then and she shook her head. “No, I hate it!” she cried. “I don’t want that old bramble any more!”
“Oh, yes, you do,” Mrs. Wise said, quickly. “You told me you just love to keep snipping off its leaves. What has happened to your clippers?”
“I don’t like snipping it!” Becky stomped her foot. “It scratches me and makes everyone mad at me!” She felt like running off to her room to cry, but Mrs. Wise was blocking the gateway.
“Are you mad at me, or at the bramble?” Mrs. Wise asked.
“The bramble,” Becky muttered.
“Angry enough to get rid of it?”
Becky sniffed sadly. “I try and try, but I can’t.”
“Yes, it is too big for you to get rid of by yourself,” Mrs. Wise agreed. “But it must be killed.”
“Killed?” Becky remembered what Mr. Green had said about weed killer. Would it really work?
She was about to ask Mrs. Wise when her mother called: “Stormie’s on the phone!”
“I have to go,” Becky said quickly, and darted up the walk.
“Did your bramble really send that old mailman flying?” Stormie’s voice asked. “Did you get in trouble?” Becky was glad when the topic turned to kittens and the school picnic. She was tired of talking about her bramble.
But that night she had a nightmare. The bramble had grown into a monster and held her prisoner with its giant spines. She could hear the crackling of flames coming closer, but she couldn’t get away!
Becky woke up in fright. The wind was blowing the branches of the bramble against the house. It scraped and crackled just like in her dream. “I must get rid of it before it is too late!” she told herself as she huddled under the blankets.
The next morning Becky was just about to go see Stormie’s kittens when she remembered her nightmare. Instead she went and knocked on Mr. Green’s door. She had never noticed how beautiful her neighbor’s garden was before. Bright morning glories grew up the wall and the straight rows of vegetables were well kept. There were no weeds to be seen. Then Becky blushed with shame. Over the fence rose the dark and ugly head of her very own bramble bush! Mr. Green had carefully cut off every branch that crossed his fence, but to Becky they looked like monster teeth. She shivered.
“Why, it’s Becky!” said Mr. Green, opening the door. “What can I do for you, my girl?”
“Do you have a little weed killer that I could borrow?” Becky asked, as bravely as she could.
Mr. Green smiled. “A little weed killer? To borrow?” He looked up at the bramble mountain and rolled his eyes. “Are you sure you won’t need a whole gallon? Perhaps we should go to the pesticide center together.”
“Does it cost money?” Becky asked in a small voice. Mr. Green nodded. “I only have three dollars,” she said, pulling out her purse.
“You’ll need all of it,” Mr. Green said.
Becky thought of the soda pop she was going to buy for the school picnic. What would Stormie say when she told her that she had spent all her money for weed killer?
Mr. Green was heading down the street. “Are you coming, Becky?” Becky looked up again at the bramble monster, then ran after him.
“I’m glad she went,” Jessica sighed with relief, when Mom ended the story. “I almost felt like giving up on her! It seemed like Becky would never get rid of that bramble, even though she kept saying she wanted to.”
“She hasn’t got rid of it yet,” Joseph pointed out. “I’m curious to know what happens when they get to the pesticide center. Do we have to wait to hear the rest, Mom?”
Mom stood and took the pan of green beans. “Maybe we should get some of our own weeding done before I finish the story. I saw some thistles starting to bloom behind the bean row and there are several dandelions growing with the cucumbers.”
“I’ll get them out!” Joseph said quickly. “We don’t want any more of those in our yard!”
“I’m glad to see my son applying the lesson so quickly,” Mom said with a smile. “Jessica, would you please help Benny get washed up for supper? I think he will need a bath.”
“I don’t want a bath!” Benny yelled, from the muddy sand-hole he was sitting in.
“You don’t want sand in your bed, do you?” Jessica said with a laugh, as she took the little boy’s hand. “Come on, you can turn from a mud-puppy into a seal in the bathtub!” She smiled at Mom as she passed through the kitchen with a sandy scowling boy in tow.
“I see some beautiful patience and persistence flowers blooming,” Mom said, encouragingly. “Keep up the good work, deary!” Then she called out the back door, “Todd, after you wash off I need you to help Joseph weed the beans and cucumbers. You might even find a cucumber for supper!”
Todd frowned for a moment, then looked over at the garden. “Can I eat it all myself?” he asked.
“If you pull out all the dandelions yourself, then you can eat the whole cucumber,” Mom decided. “But if you need Joseph’s help, then you’ll need to share. Sounds fair?”
“I can do it myself!” Todd said, quickly. “You’ll see.”
Mom smiled as she watched Todd grab the trowel and head into the garden. Maybe he would learn that being a conqueror was worth it, after all.
See also: Part Three