Angela lives next door and we were friends since five.
Since both of my parents worked, I often stayed in her house, did homework, and played together.
Her house was really different from mine
Angela had her own bedroom, lots of books, and even had movies that we didn’t have.
These are the reasons why I went to Angela’s house on a daily basis.
Staying there, I always imagined that her house was mine.
After finishing up our homework, we pondered.
We finally made a decision to play with paper dolls.
Drawing beautiful princesses, we cut it out and started to play.
While we were playing for quite a while, Angela’s mom came and said,
“Angie, dinner’s ready.”
“No! It’s already six. It’s time for dinner.”
Hearing that, I saw the clock’s hand pointing at 6.
“Jenny, let’s play some more.”
“But I also need to go for dinner.”
“You can eat with me. Mom, let Jenny join us.”
“Yeah, Jenny. Let’s have dinner together.”
Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, chocolate puddings… All of my favorite food were set on the table which made me salivate.
Angela’s mother placed a big chunk of meatloaf on my plate.
When I just started to gulp in…
“Jenny! Jenny! Dinner’s ready!”
I thought I heard my father’s voice.
Though it was a faint voice, no other person but I could surely realize whose voice it was.
My father kept on calling me.
‘If I go home, we will only have baked beans. I’ll just finish it up quickly.’
I tried my best to avoid his voice.
It was when I almost finished my plate.
It was my father.
Angela’s mother quickly went out.
“Is Jenny here? It’s time for dinner, but she wouldn’t show up…”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have let her go early. Jenny, your dad’s here!”
Poutingly, I went…
“You were late for dinner. Since you didn’t answer, I came for you.”
“But I already had dinner here.”
“Really? I didn’t know. Thank you Mrs. Wybrants.”
When we got home, I saw that the food was still set on table.
“Dad, you didn’t have dinner yet?”
“How could I? You didn’t come home. I waited for you.”
As usual, there were only baked beans on the table.
My father finally had his cold beans for dinner.
In my childhood, I wasn’t concern of my father who couldn’t eat because of me.
I only considered myself, having delicious food, and neglected his voice.
Why was I so immature? Thinking back in the old days, I feel so sorry.
Wasn’t I only chasing after my joy?
I now want to be the child who considers His voice and a child who can give Him joy.
To make known to us, things of heaven that we could not know due to our sin and pride,
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