03/28/2004: "The Castle"

By Carol J. Warren

*Note: The mother in this story represents the world. The King is Jesus and the Father is God. We are the little girl, the chosen one.*

The castle sat high up on a tall hill. It had long been abandoned and it showed. The highest turret had so much of its wall missing, it’s a wonder how it stayed in place at all. Vines grew thick over broken walls like a forest animal trying to gobble the castle up. Tree limbs invaded the privacy of once-drawn windows and thatched roofs. The gate, once majestic and imposing, hung cocked at an angle, held only by the upper hinge. It looked as though it would fall on anyone that tried to pass by it. The wall around the castle, that had once protected it from invading armies, was broken and in many places only piles of rubble around gapping holes. The inner courtyard, once bright and buzzing with activity, was dark and overrun with thick bushes and tall weeds. A snaky-looking place at best. Inside the castle was dreadful and dreary. Hung with dark weather rotted tapestries and wet rugs that held piles of stinking rubble and debris. A place of rats and slimy things.

The castle belonged to the King. The King went on a long journey and told his servants to keep his charge until he returned. But as the King did not return and no word was heard from him, after several years his servants left their charge. One by one they went seeking other work. They all agreed something had befallen the King, and their work would not be rewarded. So the castle was abandoned and after a period of time even feared. Some said the dead King haunted it, but others just felt it was unsafe, and so it sat.

Indeed, there was only one person that frequented the castle at all. A small whisper of a girl. She went there to play. Her family, once servants of the King, lived at the foot of the tall hill just under the castle. The trail, once taken to work everyday, now led the way to a child’s wonderland. With the King gone her family had to struggle to survive. She was the youngest of many children, and as they all reminded her continually, unwanted and in the way. All the children had chores, but when she tried to help they told her she was too small and just in the way. With a sneer and shove they would drive her away. “No good for anything,” they would say. “I don’t know why we even bother with her.” “Just another mouth to feed,” her mother would say sighing, and with an angry swat, tell her the least she could do is stay out of the way and let them do their work.

So she played at the castle, she and her rag doll. Exploring, pretending, reliving the days of the King. One day as she was climbing over piles of rubble in the castle she discovered the throne room. Even in shambles it looked glorious. The King’s throne was at the end of the hall. All around the high ceiling were carvings and smiling faces in stone. It must have been a happy place she decided. It became her new favorite place. She would sit on the throne with her rag doll and imagine the room in its glory.

Once as she was exploring she found a small ring. She took the hem of her skirt and cleaned it. I.H.S. it said. She wondered what I.H.S. stood for. She tried it on and it fit. It must have belonged to someone very special. Indeed when she wore it she felt special. But she would only wear it at the castle.
If she let anyone in her family see it they would take it away. Oh my, it’s getting late. The sun is almost set! She took off running down the hill to her home. She ran in out of breath just as everyone was sitting down to dinner.

Her mother scolded her for being late. “I told you before if you’re late, no dinner. There’s barely enough to go around as it is. If you don’t want yours enough to be on time, you can just do without.” She grabbed her by the arm dragging her to the ladder that led up to the loft. “Look at you, all dirty! Have you been up to that castle? I told you not to go up there didn’t I? Off with you! I don’t want to see your face again tonight,” she screamed. Then with a shove toward the ladder that sent her across the floor, she went back to the table, muttering something about her being nothing but a burden... wish she’d never been born. Just more work...

The little girl went up the ladder to her little corner in the loft. She took her ring out of her apron pocket and held it tight. When the others came up she pretended to be asleep so they wouldn’t pick on her. But in her heart she knew something wonderful was going to happen. In the morning after breakfast, she headed for the front door trying to slip out quietly before she was noticed. Not that anyone would miss her, but her brothers and sisters could be mean if given the opportunity. Just as she reached for the door her older sister was coming in with a bucket of fresh cow’s milk. She tripped over the step and the milk splashed everywhere.

Looking up she saw the little one. “It was her fault Mom,” she lied, “she tripped me.” The mother came rushing in. She grabbed the little one by the hair and pulled her outside. “Clean up this mess,” she hollered back over her shoulder. “I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget,” she said to the little girl. She was so angry her face was puffy and red. “You’re good for nothing - nothing, do you hear me. I ought to throw you out. You’re nothing but trouble. You’re lucky to have a home and someone to feed you. But noooo, you throw our hard-earned food on the floor,” she said, working herself into a frenzy. “Well, see how you like this.” With that she started hitting her wherever she could, still holding her by her hair.

Suddenly she stopped her hand still in mid-air. A wagon was coming around the trees on the road to their house. It was the old priest. What in the world was he doing out here unannounced? She smoothed her hair and her apron and put on a smile. “Why Priest, whatever brings you out our way,” she said sweetly, turning her back on the little girl as though to hide her from the priest’s view. “Is everything OK?”

“OK? Why yes, yes, everything’s fine,” said the priest as he came down from the wagon. The Priest was ever so sweet but he was a little absent-minded. “I’ve come on a very special mission. That is I have a... Oh dear I did have... well I never... Oh yes, that’s right, here it is, sputtered the old priest,” patting his pocket. “Dithering old fool,” thought the mother. “I will bless the day you are replaced.” But to his face she smiled and nodded. “One of your children is the one,” said the priest -- flushed with excitement. “I have brought something wonderful for the special child.”

“Wonderful,” thought the mother, “money, gold, perhaps something we could sell.” “Children come quickly,” the mother called. “The priest has something wonderful for one of you.” The children lined up beside the mother as the priest went from child to child inspecting them.

“My, my, my, you do have a lot of children,” said the priest with a smile. “What a blessing that must be for you.” “Oh dear, dear,” said the priest troubled, “its none of these. Are these all of your children?” asked the priest. Just then he saw the little girl peek her head around her mother. “Well, Hello there,” said the priest, kneeling down in front of the little girl. “Come, come, don’t be afraid. Let me see if you’re the one.” She walked over to the priest and stood in front of him. “Yes, yes,” the priest shouted. “My dear, let me tell you that you are chosen. You are someone very, very special. I have been sent to personally see to it that you get this.” He patted around touching all of his pockets until he found the right one. Then with a smile he pulled out a white napkin and carefully opened it for the little girl. Everyone leaned forward to see. “A candle,” said the mother with disgust. “Yes,” said the priest, “but not just a candle. It is a very special candle that you must keep as a reminder that you are someone very special, very special indeed. And someday ... what?”

The mother angry at the whole proceedings had jerked the Priest up from his knees and was saying, “Thank you very much for the visit, and yes, the candle. I’m sure it will come in handy. But now, of course,” she said pushing him into his wagon, “we must all go back to work. Idle hands you know.” With a swish of her hand she motioned him off. The priest called back over his shoulder as the wagon bounced down the road: “Oh dear that’s not all the message. Oh well, don’t forget, you are someone very special.” Then he was out of sight around the edge of the trees.

The little girl scurried off while her mother was busy putting everyone back to work. She ran up the hill to the castle. She ran inside to the throne room and sat on the throne. Carefully she unfolded the napkin again. There it was a small red candle. It smelled wonderful. Then very carefully she wrapped it back in its napkin and put it in her pocket, there to stay. She wondered what it meant. She was chosen. She was someone special. She wasn’t quite sure what it would all come to, but she believed the old priest, and she would wait for that special day to come.

The little girl kept the candle with her always. She never took it out when others were around. They didn’t understand. They might try to take it away from her. Often at breakfast she would put a biscuit with honey on it in her pocket for lunch so she would not have to come home until dark. No one ever noticed she was gone.

One day, as she sat on a piece of the outside castle wall, a beautiful carriage pulled up. It was white with gold trim, and had twelve white horses pulling it. A tall man stepped out of the carriage. He was wearing royal clothes and a long flowing cape, and on his head was a crown. The little girl ran to get a better look at the stranger. Just as she was getting close enough to see, a twig snapped under her foot. The stranger turned and saw the little girl.
She was about to run away, but he smiled and held out his hand. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She walked over to the stranger. “Who are you?” asked the little girl. She had never seen anyone like him before. “I am the King,” he said, “and this is my castle. And who are you?”

“I am someone very special,” said the little girl. “Yes,” said the King with a smile. “There’s no doubt of that.” She started to show him the candle but thought better of it. Instead, she showed him her ring. “I have a very special ring,” said the little girl holding it out to him. “See.” “I.H.S.” said the King. “That means In His Service.” “In whose service?” asked the little girl. “Why in my service,” said the King. “You must be one of my trusted servants. I’m so glad I’ve found you. I’ve just come back from my journey and it seems all of my servants, except you, of course, have deserted me and left my house in ruins. I’ve come to see what must be done to repair it, or if it’s even worth repairing.”

“Oh yes, it is worth repairing” said the little girl. “No one knows the castle like I do. Let me show you.” And with that she took hold of his hand leading him along, showing him the castle, explaining where it was safe to walk and where it was not. The King was amazed at the little girl’s knowledge of the castle and her ability to maneuver through the ruble. “It’s about lunch time,” said the King, “wont someone be missing you?”

“No,” said the little girl. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Yes,” said the King. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite.” “Come with me,” said the little girl, and they were off again. She took him to the throne room and led him to the throne. “This must be yours,” said the little girl, pointing to the throne. The King brushed off the seat and sat down. He picked up the little girl and sat her on his knee.

“I have lunch,” said the little girl. And with that she pulled the honey biscuit out of her pocket. She broke it in two and gave the King half. “I wouldn’t want to take your lunch,” said the King. “It’s ok,” said the little girl with a smile. “I don’t eat much anyway.” The King took half of the biscuit returning her smile. “Well, you must let me bring the lunch tomorrow.”

The King began to look around. “This may be hard for you to imagine,” said the King, “but this was once a glorious place.” “Oh no,” said the little girl, “it’s not hard for me to imagine at all. I do it all the time. This rug leading to the throne was bright red and the tapestry over there was gold and green. I can just see the people in bright-colored clothing dancing and singing. It was a happy place.” “Exactly as it was,” said the King.

“You know, if this castle is to be rebuilt it will require a very special person to oversee it,” the King said rubbing his chin in thought. “Someone with enough vision to see it as it was and will be again, without vision that will not be possible. Can you think of anyone like that?” The little girl’s brow furrowed with thought. “I know,” exclaimed the King, “I will put you in charge. You know the castle well and you see it the way it should be. Besides, you said you were someone special.”

“But I’m just a little girl,” said the girl. “No matter,” said the King, “it’s settled. You will oversee the rebuilding of my castle.” And so it was.

The next day the little girl walked up the hill to the castle wondering what she would find. The King had not wasted any time in putting things into action. True to his word, a team of men from the town had been assembled to start the reconstruction. “Good you’re here,” said the King. “These men will be under your charge. What do you wish them to do?” The men snarled and muttered about taking orders from a girl, but one glare from the King put them to silence. “I hear work is hard to come by,” said the King, “especially for a good wage. If you don’t like who I’ve put in charge tell me now and seek employment else where.” The men were silent. “Good,” said the King. Turning to the little girl he asked: “What do you suggest?”

“Well, you can not rebuild on top of the rubble,” said the little girl. “We must find a place to haul the rubble and remove it, starting with the entrance.” “Well said,” said the King. “You heard her men, get wagons and start removing this rubble.” “I knew I chose wisely,” said the King. With that she and the King took a walk around the castle planning and talking about what needed to be done and in what order.

“It’s lunch time,” said the King. “I have my biscuit,” said the girl. “No, remember today it is my turn to provide the lunch,” and with that he took her by the hand and led her to the throne room where he had a table prepared with enough food to feed an army. The King pulled the chair out for her to sit down and then sat beside her. They ate and laughed until it was late and she had to go home. “Same time tomorrow?” asked the King. “Same time,” she shouted over her shoulder as she ran to get home before dinner.

They were just sitting down to dinner when she walked in. She started toward her chair when her mother saw her. “Just what do you think you’re doing,” said her mother. “No supper for those who are late.” The little girl, still full from the King’s feast, couldn’t help but giggle. She didn’t dare tell them about the King. They would find a way to stop her. She held her hand over her mouth but it was too late. Her mother had heard her. “You think it’s funny do you?” she said furious. “I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

The King waited for the little girl. She was late. Then he saw her coming up the hill. But she was not running and happy. She moved slowly and painfully. The King went to meet her. “The day is well spent. I was worried about you,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. She let out a little cry of pain.

“Who has done this to you,” asked the King. “Surely they will not go unpunished.” “My mother was angry because I was late to dinner last night,” said the little girl, hanging her head in shame. “Doesn’t she know you were with me about my business?” asked the King. “I was afraid to tell her,” said the little girl. “I was afraid if she knew how much it meant to me, she would make me stop.” “Come with me,” said the King, his face red with anger.

He took her by the hand and led her to his carriage. He ordered his servants to make haste and drive to the house at the bottom of the hill. The mother was amazed to see the carriage pull in front of her house. She smoothed her hair and her apron, and put on her best smile. The King fairly burst from the carriage, pulling the little girl behind him. He looked at the mother. He spoke calmly, courteously, but his words were as sharp as knives. “I have taken your daughter into my service. She is to go every day up the hill to the castle to oversee my workers. Anything, and I mean anything, that would interfere with her performing her duties will be considered treason and dealt with in due fashion.” Then glaring her in the eyes he added: “Is that understood?”

“Why yes, of course, I would never....” The mother was muttering. But the King did not wait for her reply. He whisked the girl back into the carriage and ordered the driver to return to the castle. The little girl was amazed. He had spoken with such authority and power. She looked at the King with admiration and appreciation.

Day by day they worked together, the King and the girl. More often than not they would spend their time laughing and talking, planning the castle. After awhile, the King was called on a journey. He ordered the men to obey the little girl and left things in her care. The men began to eye the little girl with disdain. At first doing her bidding to her face, but refusing to work when her back was turned. After several days they spoke openly. “The King was gone for years before,” they said, “he will not return. Why should we work for you when the boss will not return to pay us.” The little girl tried, reminding them of what the King had said, but they would not work.

Finally, she sent a trusted messenger to the King telling him of her problem with the men. He sent word back, sealed with his ring, to fire these men if they refused to follow orders; and sent money for her to hire others in their place. These new men seeing what had happened to the workers before them, and knowing the girl could send a messenger to the King at any time, submitted to do the work.

But all was not well. The mother did not like the King favoring the little girl. Each day she grew angrier and more hostile. “Does he give you presents and money? What do you do with it?” she would ask. “Here I have kept you safe and fed you and now you will not share your wealth with me. Your day will come.” Then she would look over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard to report her words to the King. But as the King tarried at his business she grew bolder. Then one day she demanded money from the little girl. “I do not have any money,” said the girl. “Don’t lie to me, girl,” the mother hissed, “I know the King pays good wages and you have hid it for yourself. Now I want my share.” On and on she badgered the girl, refusing to let her leave to work at the castle. “Why don’t you tell the King?” She was getting even angrier. “I’ll tell you why, because he’s gone and he’s not coming back,” and with that she began to hit the girl.

The King returned to the castle, but the little girl was not there. He questioned the men and found this was the first time she had not shown for work. Suddenly he knew she was in danger. With a wave of his hand he commanded his servants and jumped into his carriage. The carriage drove into the yard like thunder. The King leaped out and snatched the little girl from under her mother’s nose. The mother, caught in the act, grew pale with fear.

“I require the little girl to live at the castle,” said the King between clinched teeth. “My business is too urgent for her to be far away. You understand don’t you?” His voice was so fearsome the woman only nodded, afraid to speak. “As for you,” the King said pointing to the woman, “you were my servant and this is my land. I warned you not to interfere. Now you must leave and not return. If I so much as see your face, or any of my servants see your face, you will be thrown in prison. Is that clear?” Again the woman nodded, afraid to speak.

The King picked up the little girl and put her in the carriage. With a motion of his hand they were gone. The little girl had never seen anything like the power and authority of the King and he had used it to rescue her. The King turned to the little girl, “Are you OK?” She was so dirty and her dress was torn. She had not even showed up for work on the King’s first day back. She felt so ashamed. As though he knew what she was thinking, he took his hand and lifted her head. “I have a new dress waiting for you. I have prepared a room for you in the part of the castle that has been completed. You will live with me now and everything will be OK. You need never be afraid again.”

The little girl loved living at the castle. She and the King were together all the time. They laughed and talked and planned. The King loved having someone with him that had the same vision for the castle and the kingdom that he did. Someone he could talk to that would understand. Over the years he taught the girl many things about the kingdom, and together they finally finished the castle. It was even more beautiful than it was before. They threw a great Feast of Dedication to dedicate the castle and invited all to come and see.

The little girl had grown into a young woman, full of wisdom and grace. She managed the castle for the King and was his most trusted advisor and friend. One day as the young woman came in to see the King, she found him with his head in his hands, for he was extremely troubled. “My King,” said the young woman, “whatever can be wrong. The castle is built, the people have returned and you, my King, are most beloved.”

“My dearest one,” said the King “when I was on that first long journey I was with my father. It was he that bade me return and rebuild the castle.” “And you have done that,” said the young woman still puzzled.

“Yes, and when that was done,” said the King, “then it would be time for me to find a wife and marry.” “That is good,” said the young woman, “you should marry.” “I wish it were that easy,” said the King. “I have searched and watched for someone beautiful, sweet and gentle, you know like you are, but I have not found one. I have looked for someone wise, understanding and caring, like you have always been but not one could compare. Someone that could share my heart and vision for the kingdom, you know, the way you do, but there’s no one. I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Then I realized,” the King said softly, “I was comparing them all to you. No one could even begin to compare to you, and I cannot settle for less. My father said I would know the one, and he gave me a sign to follow but I cannot make sense of it. Now the time has come for me to marry and no one fulfills the sign, and I do not know what to do.”

“What is the sign my King?” asked the young woman. “Perhaps talking about it will help the matter unfold.” “My father gave me this,” the King said, pulling a white napkin out of a pouch he kept on his belt. “He said, “two will be one and the light shall show the way.” I have pondered that meaning again and again, but I have not been able to understand it.” With that the King unfolded the napkin to reveal a small, red candle.

The young woman gave a gasp as she recognized the candle. She reached her trembling hand into her pocket and pulled out a white napkin. Slowly she unwrapped the napkin to reveal a small, red candle. The King was amazed. He reached out his hand, and taking her candle, held it side by side with his. They were not two candles made the same, but one candle that had been cut in half. As the King held the two pieces together something wonderful happened. The two became one. They joined so perfectly there was no seam or mark to show they had ever been apart. Then, as he held it, a fire came upon it, lighting the candle.

In the glow of the candle light their hearts were changed. And though they had loved each other, now a new love filled their hearts. Now they knew they were always meant to be together. That’s what the priest had meant: “you are the chosen one. You are someone very special.” He knew. The King was so happy he couldn’t contain himself. He threw out his arms and threw back his head and laughed. “I must shout and dance and sing,” he cried joyously, “for I cannot contain such joy. The one I love the most has been chosen to be mine.” He picked her up and twirled her around again and again until she was dizzy and giggling like a child.

The days of purification were set and the announcements made. The months pass like moments when you’re in love. The preparations for the bride was a wonderful time of getting ready mentally, physically, and spiritually, to be not only a bride, but the Queen of the kingdom. The banquet was full of splendor and glory. The Queen was arrayed in a beautiful white gown and the King in all his royal majesty.

They walked down the aisle of the throne room. The Father himself presided over the wedding. Between them was a single golden lamp stand--holding one red candle. They knew now the red was for the blood of the King they now shared. The fire was the spirit of the father.

The fragrance, the anointing oil of marriage, and the two candles becoming one seamlessly, was the joining of their lives together, a holy union with no seam or break. As the father had said, “Two will be one, and the light shall show the way.”

As we come into this new millennium, we each hold a white napkin wrapped around a small red candle.