Runner Up: Maria Chythlook
Kasilof, Alaska
Congratulations, Maria!
A Teddy Bear Prayer
By Maria Chythlook
“What’s this?” I mumbled, reaching down to pick up an old worn teddy bear from the steps of our church. My mind began to visualize each child’s face from our little country church, tucked away on the hillside of Alaska’s largest city. Surely it must belong to one of them. I secured it under my arm and headed in to church with my children.
After service I headed downstairs, only to find my husband sitting beside a little boy, right there on the steps. I had never seen this little guy before. Dressed in a red pullover, jeans and slightly worn tennis shoes, he appeared to be about two years old. My husband was trying to communicate with him, and I had to smile. My ham of a husband couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make a child smile. Over the years he had obtained a great success ratio, making him every child’s favorite uncle, whether actually related or not. However, for all his trying, it obviously wasn’t working this time. The little boy was most definitely not smiling. Instead, he folded his arms, scowled and grunted at every attempt my husband made. I watched this charade for a minute, then remembering my find, I held out the worn bear. Upon seeing it, the child’s scowl immediately disappeared. He grabbed the bear quickly and began clutching it so tight I thought the eyes would pop off. I gave my husband a curious look, giggling at this child’s fervor over the worn out old bear.
Collecting our children from Sunday school, I headed upstairs. My husband was talking with a small group and holding the now smiling little boy. He had done it, and once again his success ratio rose. As I headed to our car, I began to wonder what the story was behind this non verbal little boy who needed a worn out old bear so much.
“Julie’s not his mom, is she?” I asked on the drive home.
“No”, he said, deep in thought.
“And” I asked. I waited for a reply, which did not come. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, please tell me” I asked again, very impatiently. He just looked at me, a smile creeping over his face. His eyes were dancing with an expression I had not seen since the day our three year old daughter had been born.
“He’s in emergency foster care with Julie’s sister. The state needs a family for him. His mom and dad won’t stop drinking long enough to take care of him.” I stared at my husband’s words in disbelief. Tears began welling up in my eyes. I had never understood how parents could neglect and abandon their child.
“God, why,” I screamed in my head. I knew there was no answer, but praying helped ease the pain I felt for this little boy.
For the remainder of the drive I listened to our children. They were playful and happy, just as little children should be. After lunch, when everyone was comfy and settled, my husband asked me to talk with him. He was using the tone of voice I knew meant something serious. I gave him a questioning look. Couldn’t this wait? As we sat down dread crept over me. Why was he insisting on talking today? Sunday was our day of quiet and rest. The day we had agreed would be for the children and full of love. No work, no stress, and especially no talks.
When I looked up I was utterly surprised. There he was, holding a cup of coffee and a hand written card. He looked like a schoolboy with the sheepish grin his face held. He bent down and gave me a soft, tender kiss. He put the card on the table next to the coffee. As he sat across from me, staring at me, his eyes once again danced with the joy I had seen after church. I giggled inside. He had tricked me with the tone in his voice. Well, now it was my turn. I took a long, slow and very deliberate drink of the coffee, seeming not to notice the card. Teasing him was so much fun. Finally, I began to stare back, holding his gaze as long as I could. Then, slowly, I moved my attention to the card. I heard him shift in his seat. Hmmm, nervous was he, I thought amusingly. ‘To the Best Mommy in the World!’ was scrawled on the front of the card in his engineer style handwriting. I smiled, accepting the compliment with grace and love. I glanced up and mouthed the words “Thank You” as I opened the card. What was inside took my breath away.
“Would you like to have a worn out teddy bear come live with us? If your answer is yes, flip the card over.” I looked at my husband, trying to understand the cryptic message. I started to speak but he shushed me, putting his hands over mine, looking into my eyes with those darn dancing ones of his again. What was going on? I could feel his apprehension and joy, all melted together in love. As this feeling surged from his hands into my body it began to make sense.
My mind screamed, half hysterically and half in joy. This wasn’t happening. I began to remember my adolescent plan. The one I had made at the age of 15. I had decided, upon the intense realization there was a world full of hurting children, that I would adopt a child or two when I grew up. I had spent hours praying to God for this when I was young and full of naivety. It was a prayer I had long since forgotten, until now.
I silently removed my hands from my husbands, held up the card and turned it over. Written on the back were these words, ‘Billy needs a home, we have a home. Billy needs a family, we are a family.” As the tears fell from my face my husband came around the table and held me. We clung to each other, crying with joy and fear over the next phase of our life.
As our children came to us, we opened our arms to them. The realization that this would be the last time it was just the four of us swept over me like a tidal wave and I began to pray. “Thank you God for giving me a family, and an answer to a prayer long forgotten. Thank you God for allowing me to find a worn out old teddy bear.”
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