The Stormy Day

Rosie frowned at herself in the mirror. “Wish I had curly hair,” she said as big sister Irene began on her second braid. “Janice has curls, and everyone says she’s pretty.”

“Aunt Meg said that Janice doesn’t like them, ’cause it hurts to brush them out,” said Irene.

“Still, they’re prettier,” Rosie said with a pout.

“Better not try to be pretty then,” suggested Irene. “It’s better to be thankful about things.” Rosie knew that, but she didn’t feel like being thankful this morning. She felt gloomy because it was raining when she had been hoping for snow. When it had snowed before, she had been too sick to go outside, and so everyone else had had fun without her. Rosie frowned more as she remembered it.

Emma poked her little face around the door. “Rosie! Mama wants you,” she said, with a smile. Rosie didn’t feel like smiling back. In her heart she knew Jesus wanted her to be cheerful, but what was there to smile about?

She didn’t feel any happier when she saw what Mom wanted. “Why do I always have to do the dishes?” she complained as she stepped up on the stool in front of the sink.

“They need to be cleaned,” Mom said, “and I want my children to learn to be good workers. Besides, you don’t always do the dishes.”

Rosie didn’t answer. She was thinking of Cousin Janice’s birthday party yesterday. Janice had gotten so many nice things, including some new roller-blades. They had tried them out on her covered porch and they had worked wonderfully. “Mom,” Rosie said after a little while, “I wish I could have some roller-blades like Janice got.”

“Why? You have roller skates, don’t you?” Mom stopped rolling pie crust and turned around. “You need to be content with what you have, my child.”

Rosie swished her hands slowly in the dishwater. “But they don’t go as fast as hers,” she mumbled. She knew Mom wouldn’t take that as a good excuse, but it did seem like everyone else had things better than she did.

“Rose Alice.” Mom’s voice was very quiet, but Rosie knew she was not pleased. “I want you to stop complaining about everything. You are not having a good attitude this morning. Do you think Jesus is pleased?”

Rosie shook her head slowly and bit her lip. Why was everything going wrong today? She looked out the window and was surprised to see how dark it had become. The tall firs were waving in the wind and dark clouds covered the sky. Suddenly the light flickered and went out.

Mom hurried out to check on the little children, but Rosie stood still on her little stool in the dark kitchen. She looked out at the waving black branches against the silver sky and felt prickles creep up her back.

Lifting her wet hands, she clasped them together and closed her eyes. “Dear Father in Heaven,” she said in a whisper, “I’m sorry for—for being grumpy ’bout everything. Help me be good—and—and take care of us.” As she slipped her hands back into the warm dishwater and swished them around for the dishrag, a little smile came to her face. The room wasn’t so dark anymore, and everything was still and peaceful in the kitchen. Outside it began to pour.

“Rosie, dear,” Mom said, coming in with Kyle, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I’ll finish the dishes and you go with the others.”

“It’s all right,” Rosie said. “There’s only a few bowls left.”

“Thank you, dear,” Mom said softly. Rosie looked up at her mother’s kind face and smiled.

It wasn’t until almost lunch time before the lights came on again, so they spent the morning around the wood stove. Mom lit a kerosene lamp and read them stories. Rosie sat on a little footstool and listened eagerly. One story made her feel very sorry, for it was about a family in a flood. The water came into the house, and they had to climb into the attic so they wouldn’t drown. At the very end, some rescuers came and saved them all, just in time.

“Don’t you think we have much to be thankful for?” Mama said, looking around at them all in the lamplight. “They lost all they had, but they still were thankful to be alive.”

Rosie looked at the shadows on the wall and thought about how much she did have. There were many, many things she was thankful for, especially her dear family. She blinked her eyes as she remembered how she had complained only an hour ago.

“Oh, Mama,” said Rosie, as she flung her arms around her mother’s neck, “I am so sorry for not being a thankful girl!”

“I forgive you,” Mom said as she gave her a warm squeeze. “I love you very much, and I know a thankful girl is always a happy one.”