As she rose at the conclusion of the prayer, finding me still on my feet,
she said with surprise in her tone, "Not in bed yet, Lisita?"
"No," I said, confused that she should find me still seated on the edge of
my bed, lost in my own reflections.
Paula suddenly went to the window and looked out, "Oh, Lisita!" she
exclaimed, "how wonderful! Come and see."
The storm had stopped in the late afternoon, and now the moon shone in all
its splendor, touching the snow with silver and making millions of its
crystals sparkle like diamonds in the moonlight.
"How white and pure and beautiful everything is!" said Paula. "Do you
remember, Lisita, how only yesterday we remarked how squalid and dirty the
whole village looked? And now, what a lovely change!" She hesitated a
moment, and then continued in her quiet, simple way.
"It's God that has done it! It's quite a bit like when one gives their
heart to Jesus Christ. He takes it stained and scarred with sin, and then
He makes it white like the snow. Don't you see, Lisita?"
"Yes, I see," I said.
"Do you really see, dear Lisita?" And Paula drew me quite close to her.
"Then why don't you give your heart to Him? I do love you so! You see, I
don't wish to seem to be any better than you--but when I get thinking of
the fact that you never really have given your heart to Him, and if one of
us should die--"
I could not bear another word.
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