Ice Cream Grace

For awhile, I mulled over what to do while away in Africa. Wi-fi is possible - but not a guarantee. And honestly? I really don't want to worry about publishing posts and tweeting and updating statuses. I will write - but most of it will be my hand to a sheet of paper. Once I decided this, I knew I needed to ask some friends to take over my space for a little while. These are women I trust, admire, love and respect. I can't wait for you guys to meet. This next week, women from all across the U.S. will share their perspective on story. The first guest is Prudence. I met her in this shrinking world we call the blogosphere a couple months ago, and both of us have reached the eerie conclusion that our lives mirror the other more often than not. It's been an incredible journey getting to know this sister in Christ, and I know you guys are just going to love her if you don't already. I'm so thankful she decided to share with you guys, and love what she has to say about grace. Hope you enjoy.


Sarah tried to be patient as she waited eagerly as Mrs. Metzner dug a couple dollars out of her wallet.  She came over every Saturday to help her clean her house in exchange for those couple of dollars, worn from many hands.  Sweeping with that big, wooden broom was difficult for a girl of seven, but she liked Mrs. Metzner and she really liked feeling like a big girl with a paying job.

Strings of her long brown hair that had fallen out of the pony at the back of her head gently started to curl in the midst of the sweat and humidity.  She gave Mrs. Metzner a hug and thanked her as she gave her the money.  She made a beeline for town and Grumpie’s Ice Cream – certain to make any grumpy happy she thought with a giggle.  Today momma made an exception and said she could stop and get a cone on her way home.

As she rounded Willow onto First she could almost taste the creamy coolness and smell the hot fudge that permeated Mr. Grumpie’s little, yellow shop.  Her uneven bangs that she’d oh so inexpertly cut this morning clung to her salty forehead.  If there ever was a day for an ice cream cone it was today.

Skipping up the steps to Grumpie’s she couldn’t help but notice the forlorn look on Maggie Dixon’s face that quickly turned to a scowl when she saw Sarah.  Maggie was the most popular and meanest girl in town.  She’d made not only her cry but kids two years older.  Maggie was mean.

Ordering a sugar cone topped with bright blue ice cream polka dotted with colored gumballs that would soon tie dye the pocket of her pale pink shorts, she thought of Mrs. Metzner’s lesson today.  There was always a lesson when you visited her.  She would encourage kindness, compassion, grace.  To love your neighbor and your enemies.  Loving your neighbor was easy she thought as she handed the two crumpled dollar bills to Joe, Mr. Grumpie’s grandson, but loving or even liking someone like Maggie was a different story.

The hot, humid air gushed her face as she placed a crisp cone in a hole that Mr. Grumpie had drilled into the railing on the patio of his shop.  “Here” was all she said giving Maggie a quick smile and skipped back down the stairs taking a giant lick of her own and stuffing a green, sticky sphere in her pocket.

Mrs. Metzner had a little card on her ice box that said “If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat; And if he is thirsty, give him water to drink; For so you will heap coals of fire on his head, And the LORD will reward you. – Proverbs 25:21 & 22”.  At seven Sarah wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but maybe it was like giving ice cream to someone who’s mean to you on a hot summer day.


Thank you, Prudence for sharing with us! You can check more of her fabulous writing out, especially this post, at

Africa prayer requests:

- travel mercies (we're flying over the Atlantic ocean right now - no big deal) ;)

Posted on June 13, 2010 and filed under story.