Never Forsaken
by Ellie Johnson (age 17)
A cold wind blew through the alleyway where nine-year-old Ellen and her little brother Samuel huddled together for warmth. They didn’t have anyone to care for them, so they lived on the streets. Ellen shivered and tried to adjust the old, ragged blanket to cover them both better.
This woke up Samuel. “Hungee, Eh-win.” He cuddled closer. He was only two years old and didn’t understand why he couldn’t have any food.
Ellen wrapped her arms tightly around her brother and tried to comfort him. “I know Sammy. We’ll look for food tomorrow, alright? Go to sleep now.”
The next morning, Ellen woke from a fitful sleep with a rumbling belly. She stretched and yawned, then helped Samuel climb up on her back so that she could carry him through the busy streets of Bristol, England. Her bare feet slapped against the cobblestone streets as she made her way to a small restaurant nearby. She crept into the alley behind the building and set Samuel down. Carefully, she climbed on top of a broken crate and pulled the lid off the nearest trash bin. Right on top sat an apple core and half a loaf of bread with some blue fuzz growing on it. That didn’t bother Ellen. She snatched up the food and hopped down. “Look, Sammy! We got food!”
Her little brother looked up from where he was playing with a bottle cork. “I want some Eh-win. I want some!”
Ellen led Samuel to a corner of the alley and sat down, pulling him to her lap. She then divided the food with him. It didn’t taste good, but they were too hungry to notice. They ate as fast as they could.
Before they had time to finish, Ellen noticed someone coming towards them, carrying a blanket. She gasped. That was her blanket! Then she saw who was carrying it.
It was Arthur.
Arthur was about fifteen or sixteen, and he loved bullying the younger street children. He swaggered up to Ellen and Samuel and smirked. “Look what I found,” he said, holding up the blanket. “I think I’ll keep it. It looks very warm and cozy.”
Tears sprang into Ellen’s eyes. “That’s ours, Arthur. Please give it back!”
“Nope!” He grinned. “Finders keepers.” He lunged forward, grabbed their remaining bread, then ran off, laughing as he went.
Samuel started wailing. “I want my bread!”
Ellen tried to comfort him, but she was crying too. She didn’t know what to do. Her mama had died when she was seven, but she still remembered some of the things that her mama had told her.
“Jesus is always with us, Ellen,” she had said. “We can always pray to Him when we’re sad or lonely.”
“Dear Jesus,” she said, “Please help us to find food. And please let Arthur not be so mean. Amen.”
Ellen sniffed, wiped her eyes, and picked up Samuel. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go see if we can find some more food.”
The two made their way down the street, but after a little while, Ellen got tired and decided to stop for a rest. She crept into an alley, where they would be out of the way, and sat down. She set Samuel down next to her and found him something to play with. She leaned her head back to rest against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. The chill of the shaded alley made her shiver, reminding her that they didn’t have a blanket anymore.
Footsteps drew close to the mouth of the alley. She opened her eyes and pulled back. Whoever it was, she doubted they’d be nice. She saw two men, both of whom were dressed very nicely for the area of the city they were in. They appeared to be talking about something that annoyed them.
“It’s ridiculous,” she heard one man say. “What does that Müller man think he’s doing? England has plenty of workhouses for orphans, but this man thinks that’s not good enough for them!”
“And,” added the other man, “he says he’s not going to ask anyone for money. He’s going to trust God for all their needs.”
“Why, of all the crazy things I’ve heard lately, this is the worst. Who will work in the workhouses if this man succeeds?” the first man asked.
“Why, you can’t possibly think he will succeed, do you?” The second man looked shocked. “It can’t possibly work, and he will realize that soon. He has already started two orphanages, but they won’t last long. Mark my words.”
Ellen’s breath caught in her throat. She snatched up Samuel and ran to the men. “Please, sir,” she said, addressing the first man. “Could you tell me where the orphanage is?” Hope filled her heart as she waited for his response.
The man looked down at her with disgust. “Tell you where it is? Certainly not. If you need to go somewhere, go to the workhouse. That’s the only place for someone like you. Now go away before I get the constable.”
Ellen retrieved Samuel and then walked slowly away, tears trickling down her face. She passed by several buildings and stopped in front of a shop. “Maybe someone in there knows where the orphanage is,” she told Samuel.
The bottom of the door scraped the floor as she carefully pushed it open. Inside were shelves full of things to buy, from sacks of flour to bolts of fabric, and everything in between. The shop itself was in some disrepair. Ellen’s feet kicked up dust on the not-so-clean floor, most of the shelves weren’t very straight, and she thought she saw several mice scamper away as she walked by. She picked her way to the counter, where an older man stood unpacking a box.
“Excuse me, sir,” Ellen said hesitantly.
“Eh? What are you doing here, girl? It doesn’t look like you plan on buying anything,” he said, noting her ragged dress and bare feet.
“No, sir,” she replied. “I just wanted to ask if you know where the new orphanage is.”
“New orphanage? Oh, you mean the one that George Müller’s starting?”
“Yes, sir!” Ellen’s eyes brightened.
“Sorry, Lass, I don’t know. I suppose it were in the papers, but I don’t read. Is there anything else you need?”
“No, sir.” Ellen turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind her. She set Samuel down and let him walk for a bit to give herself a break.
They had only gone a few blocks when a crash from behind a nearby building caused her to stop.
“Help! Please! Somebody!” a voice cried out, but no one seemed to notice. The hustle and bustle of the street nearly drowned it out completely. Even Ellen, who had nowhere to go and nothing to be distracted by, could barely hear the desperate plea for help.
She circled around the building, looking for the source of the cries, Samuel trotting by her heels. Finally, when she came to the back of the building, she saw a pile of stacked crates that had fallen into a heap. Ellen could see a boy’s feet trapped underneath one of the boxes, the rest of him hidden by the crates. “Someone please help me!” the voice shouted again.
Ellen recognized the voice, but she couldn’t quite place it. She left Samuel sitting at the bottom of the pile and climbed the pile, trying to see who it was. “Don’t worry, I can help you!” she called to the person. She shoved several crates aside, revealing the scared face of Arthur the bully.
“Please help me out!” he said again, struggling to move. He hadn’t recognized her.
“Arthur?” Ellen shoved another crate aside. “What happened?” she asked.
“I was climbing, and the pile fell down,” he replied, clearly frustrated. Then he looked at her more closely and realized who she was. “Wait, you’re Ellen, the kid I, uh …” He trailed off, embarrassed.
His comment reminded her of the fear and disappointment she had felt that morning after Arthur had stolen from them.
“You should just leave him here,” a little voice in her head told her. “He doesn’t deserve your help.”
Ellen slowly climbed down from the pile.
“Wait! Ellen, come back!” Arthur was desperate.
“You stole from me this morning, Arthur,” she replied bitterly. “Why should I help you?”
“Ellen! I’m sorry! Please come back.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she picked up Sammy and walked slowly away.
That was when her conscience started pricking her. “You should go back. You need to help him,” it told her.
“No!” the other voice said, “He deserves this.”
Then she thought of a verse her father had always quoted to her. It had been his favorite. “Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”
That made her stop and think. Did God really want her to forgive Arthur and help him get out?
The verse kept playing in her mind over and over. “Forgiving one another … as God in Christ forgave you.”
“But I just can’t forgive him!” she said to Samuel.
“God in Christ forgave you … Be kind to one another …”
“But —”
“God forgave you … forgive one another.”
Ellen sighed, turned, and walked back over to the pile. She set Samuel down and climbed the pile again. She shoved several crates aside, again revealing Arthur.
He looked up at her with surprise. “Ellen?”
Ellen looked straight at the bigger boy. “I really don’t want to do this, Arthur. I really just want to leave you here, but Jesus says to forgive because He forgives me, and I don’t want to disobey Him.”
“So,” Arthur began, “You’re going to help me anyway?”
“Yes.” Ellen sighed, then grabbed two smaller boxes and threw them out of the way, releasing his arms.
With his hands free, Arthur was able to help Ellen move the rest of the boxes out of the way. Soon, he was out of the pile. Sheepishly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out something, and handed it to her. “Here,” he said. “I hadn’t finished that bread I took from you this morning. I’m sorry I took it. Could you forgive me?”
Ellen took the bread and gave it to Sammy. “I forgive you.”
Arthur began to walk away, but then seemed to remember something and ran back. “Hey!” he called to Ellen. “Have you heard about the new orphanages someone named George Müller started?”
Ellen spun around. “Yes! Do you know where it is?”
Arthur grinned. “Sure do.”
“Could you tell me where it is?” Ellen asked breathlessly.
“I can do better than that. I can take you there.” Arthur replied, setting off down the street. “Follow me!”
Ellen snatched up Sammy and ran after Arthur, marveling at how he had changed. He led her along the streets of Bristol for several minutes until they finally ended up in front of two buildings. Happy, clean children were playing in an open space next to the buildings.
Arthur turned to her. “Well, this is it. Thanks again for helping me.” He began to walk away.
“But aren’t you going to come too?” she asked.
“Nope. Can’t,” he replied over his shoulder. “They don’t have room for older boys yet. And besides, I still have my mother. We’ll make do.” He disappeared around a corner.
Suddenly, Ellen was afraid. “What if they don’t want us?” she asked Sammy. “Maybe they don’t have room for us either.” She hesitated, then turned to leave.
The door to one of the orphanages opened, and a man stepped out. He noticed her and walked over. “Can I help you?” he asked kindly.
Ellen looked down shyly. “Does … Does Mr. Müller have room for us?”
The man smiled. “I’m Mr. Müller, and right now we have two spots left. Would you like to live here?”
Ellen gasped. “Oh, yes, please!”
George Müller gently picked up Sammy and led Ellen into the building. “Welcome home.”
About the Author
Ellie Johnson is a teen writer seeking to share God’s light and redemption through stories. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, gardening, and crafting, all while drinking ridiculous amounts of tea!
Next (Art: At the Fish Ladder) >
< Previous (Story: Butterfly)
Image is in the Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
