Wednesday, October 12, 2005


The next day, I went to the bakery.

“Nicholas,” Anna Kristina’s father said warmly, “I am so glad to see you. You have not blessed my shop in weeks.”

“I have been busy helping in other towns.”

“So I hear,” he said. “All Anna Kristina talks about is what you do. She can’t believe a man of your age has so much energy.”

My age? My heart sank.

“When you are doing the Lord’s work, you find strength,” I said.

He chuckled. “You and my Anna are certainly working for the Lord. Many a shop owner would like workers like you to. You put me to shame!”

“Ah, is she about today?”

“Today? Yes. She is off gathering honey.”

Honey? Could she be back at my farm?

I thanked him and hurried back to the farm.

I went to where I had first seen her gathering honey.

Before I saw her, I heard her. Singing. The same low song I’d first heard her sing as she charmed the bees.

When I got to the spot, I saw her, draped in cloth to keep her safe from the bees.

But there was no need for that, really. The bees had all settled down in response to her song.

She ended by closing her honey container, then saying, “Thank you, brother bees.”

She moved away from to hive, then pulled of the cloths covering her head.

Then se sat on a fallen tree.

She sighed. I saw some tears trickle down her cheek.

“Oh Lord,” she said softly, “please guide me. Do I tell him?”

I suddenly felt empty.

Who was “him,” and what did she want to tell him?


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