articlesforchristians

On Sunday When The Church Bells Ring

Heidi was standing under the swaying fir-trees, waiting for her grandfather to join her. He had promised to bring up her trunk from the village while she went in to visit the grandmother. The child was longing to see the blind woman again and to hear how she had liked the rolls. It was Saturday, and the grandfather had been cleaning the cottage. Soon he was ready to start. When they had descended and Heidi entered Peter’s hut, the grandmother called lovingly to her: “Have you come again, child?”

She took hold of Heidi’s hand and held it tight. Grandmother then told the little visitor how good the rolls had tasted, and how much stronger she felt already. Brigida related further that the grandmother had only eaten a single roll, being so afraid to finish them too soon. Heidi had listened attentively, and said now: “Grandmother, I know what I shall do. I am going to write to Clara and she’ll surely send me a whole lot more.”

But Brigida remarked: “That is meant well, but they get hard so soon. If I only had a few extra pennies, I could buy some from our baker. He makes them too, but I am hardly able to pay for the black bread.”

Heidi’s face suddenly shone. “Oh, grandmother, I have an awful lot of money,” she cried. “Now I know what I’ll do with it. Every day you must have a fresh roll and two on Sundays. Peter can bring them up from the village.”

“No, no, child,” the grandmother implored. “That must not be. You must give it to grandfather and he’ll tell you what to do with it.”

But Heidi did not listen but jumped gaily about the little room, calling over and over again: “Now grandmother can have a roll every day. She’ll get well and strong, and,” she called with fresh delight, “maybe your eyes will see again, too, when you are strong and well.”

The grandmother remained silent, not to mar the happiness of the child. Seeing the old hymn-book on the shelf, Heidi said:

“Grandmother, shall I read you a song from your book now? I can read quite nicely!” she added after a pause.

“Oh yes, I wish you would, child. Can you really read?”

Heidi, climbing on a chair, took down the dusty book from a shelf. After she had carefully wiped it off, she sat down on a stool.

“What shall I read, grandmother?”

“Whatever you want to,” was the reply. Turning the pages, Heidi found a song about the sun, and decided to read that aloud. More and more eagerly she read, while the grandmother, with folded arms, sat in her chair. An expression of indescribable happiness shone in her countenance, though tears were rolling down her cheeks. When Heidi had repeated the end of the song a number of times, the old woman exclaimed: “Oh, Heidi, everything seems bright to me again and my heart is light. Thank you, child, you have done me so much good.”

Heidi looked enraptured at the grandmother’s face, which had changed from an old, sorrowful expression to a joyous one.

She seemed to look up gratefully, as if she could already behold the lovely, celestial gardens told of in the hymn.

Soon the grandfather knocked on the window, for it was time to go. Heidi followed quickly, assuring the grandmother that she would visit her every day now; on the days she went up to the pasture with Peter, she would return in the early afternoon, for she did not want to miss the chance to make the grandmother’s heart joyful and light. Brigida urged Heidi to take her dress along, and with it on her arm the child joined the old man and immediately told him what had happened.

On hearing of her plan to purchase rolls for the grandmother every day, the grandfather reluctantly consented.

At this the child gave a bound, shouting: “Oh grandfather, now grandmother won’t ever have to eat hard, black bread any more. Oh, everything is so wonderful now! If God Our Father had done immediately what I prayed for, I should have come home at once and could not have brought half as many rolls to grandmother. I should not have been able to read either. Grandmama told me that God would make everything much better than I could ever dream. I shall always pray from now on, the way grandmama taught me. When God does not give me something I pray for, I shall always remember how everything has worked out for the best this time. We’ll pray every day, grandfather, won’t we, for otherwise God might forget us.”

“And if somebody should forget to do it?” murmured the old man.

“Oh, he’ll get on badly, for God will forget him, too. If he is unhappy and wretched, people don’t pity him, for they will say: ‘he went away from God, and now the Lord, who alone can help him, has no pity on him’.”

“Is that true, Heidi? Who told you so?”

“Grandmama explained it all to me.”

After a pause the grandfather said: “Yes, but if it has happened, then there is no help; nobody can come back to the Lord, when God has once forgotten him.”

“But grandfather, everybody can come back to Him; grandmama told me that, and besides there is the beautiful story in my book. Oh, grandfather, you don’t know it yet, and I shall read it to you as soon as we get home.”

The grandfather had brought a big basket with him, in which he carried half the contents of Heidi’s trunk; it had been too large to be conveyed up the steep ascent. Arriving at the hut and setting down his load, he had to sit beside Heidi, who was ready to begin the tale. With great animation Heidi read the story of the prodigal son, who was happy at home with his father’s cows and sheep. The picture showed him leaning on his staff, watching the sunset. “Suddenly he wanted to have his own inheritance, and be able to be his own master. Demanding the money from his father, he went away and squandered all. When he had nothing in the world left, he had to go as servant to a peasant, who did not own fine cattle like his father, but only swine; his clothes were rags, and for food he only got the husks on which the pigs were fed. Often he would think what a good home he had left, and when he remembered how good his father had been to him and his own ungratefulness, he would cry from repentance and longing. Then he said to himself: ‘I shall go to my father and ask his forgiveness.’ When he approached his former home, his father came out to meet him—”

Heidi by Johanna Spyri