Invaluable

by Holly J. Wood

  My eyes strained to find whatever it was that had made the noise. I hoped it wasn’t a bear. I had an irrational fear of running into a bear in the woods, and dream or no, I didn’t want that fear confirmed. My muscles tensed when I saw a form emerging from the trees. We were close enough that I could see her clearly. It was a woman.

  She was wearing deerskin clothes like a Native American might have worn in the frontier days, but she didn’t look like a Native American. She had long blonde hair and fair skin—actually her skin was pretty tan, but I could tell it would have been fair if she hadn’t been exposed to so much sun. She had a bundle of twigs under her arm, and her head was bent, scouring the ground for more wood. Her search was leading her back into the woods, so I stood and looked at Grandma to see if we should follow. She nodded and we set out together.

  We followed the woman as she wandered deeper and deeper into the forest, collecting more wood as she went. I stayed silent, content to see if I could figure out who the woman was. I hadn’t had a clear view of her face yet, and I was extremely curious to see what she looked like.

  We lost sight of her for a moment when she walked around a thick stand of trees. We followed her and entered a clearing where there was a fire burning. A tall man with auburn hair and broad shoulders knelt by the fire, cooking some kind of meat. He was also wearing deerskin clothes, and his skin was tan as well. He looked up and smiled at the woman as she approached. She set her wood by the fire and then knelt to help him with their dinner. There was a cave behind them and a stream running nearby, and I couldn’t help but think that this was where they lived. It seemed impossible, but it certainly appeared to be a dwelling.

  Even though I knew the man and the woman weren’t aware of my presence, I still whispered to Grandma, “Okay, I give up. Who are these people, and why are they all alone out here?”

  Grandma’s eyes sparkled. “Those people, my dear, are Adam and Eve—our first parents.”

  I gasped and stepped closer to look at their faces. Adam was tall and powerful looking. He seemed to carry a certain authority about him, and I wished I could hear him speak because I was certain his voice would reflect that power. He was the first man ever to walk the Earth—and here I was watching him make dinner over a fire. It was all too overwhelming!

  I turned my attention to Eve, and once again my breath caught in my lungs. Though she was watching the fire, her face was turned toward me, and I was struck by her beauty. Even with a few dirt smudges on her face, she was gorgeous. After studying her for a moment, I realized that it wasn’t necessarily her physical features that made her so stunning: she seemed to emit a glowing radiance from within. She was the “mother of all living.” She was a queen.

  I turned to Grandma, my mouth gaping open, unable to put my thoughts into words.

  Grandma smiled and gestured to a log where we could sit and watch them from a distance.

  “What you are seeing is the time just after Adam and Eve were cast out from the Garden of Eden.” This immediately answered one of my questions. I’d secretly been hoping that this wasn’t the Garden of Eden. I’d always imagined it as being sort of magical in its beauty, and although these surroundings were pretty, they weren’t much different from places where I’d been camping with my own family.

  “They made a temporary home here, but they will move again after the birth of their first child. As you can see, life was not easy for them. They had to struggle constantly for their food, shelter, and safety, but they always remained faithful to the Lord and sought for His guidance.”

  “Wow, I can’t imagine living like this. It would be so lonely and hard. This is another example of faith, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed, faith was a quality that they both possessed, but that’s not the lesson you’re here to learn. Tell me what you noticed about Eve.”

  I looked back to where Eve was sitting by the fire, her head resting on Adam’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful. She seems to shine, inside and out.”

  Grandma nodded, a pleased smile on her face. “And do you know, Eliza, what makes her so beautiful?”

  “Well, outwardly, I guess she’s pretty because that’s the way Heavenly Father made her, but inwardly, it’s probably because she’s a good person.”

  Grandma’s eyes twinkled. “You hit it right on the nose! But do you know that it’s often the inner beauty that people notice the most?”

  I frowned. “Don’t you mean outer beauty? That seems to be what people notice most.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Not at all. Think about some of your favorite movie stars or famous models, for instance. Their outward appearance is supposedly beautiful, but their lives are such a mess that they seem dark and unattractive when you take a good, hard look at them.”

  I thought for a moment of the famous people whose pictures I’d seen on the tabloids at the checkout stand. They often did appear sort of a mess, but I rationalized that was probably just the workings of the paparazzi or magazine editors.

  And then, Chelsea’s face popped into my mind. She was one of the prettiest girls in school, but because I knew how petty and mean she could be, she didn’t seem that pretty to me anymore. Not in comparison with extraordinary women like Emma and Eve.

  “I guess I see what you mean, Grandma, but it still seems like those are the people who get noticed the most and who can get anything they want.” I thought longingly of Luke.

  “That may be how it appears, but often getting everything you want only leads to trouble. Adam and Eve had to work hard, but hard work is a blessing. They were cheerful, and because they kept the commandments and the righteous counsel they were given, they received a great reward.

  “The reason I wanted you to see Eve was to help you realize that each of us has been given a divine nature from Heavenly Father. We are all His children and have been given gifts and qualities from Him. We all have the potential to be beautiful. It’s in our genetic makeup. Every young woman wants to be pretty, but once you focus on living a righteous life and recognize that you are literally a daughter of God, you’ll know where true beauty comes from.”

  Grandma smiled patiently at my doubtful expression. “It sounds strange, I know. The world would have you believe that you have to constantly work to be attractive on the outside, but it simply isn’t true.”

  “But, Grandma,” I interjected, “we have to do some things about our outward appearance. Otherwise we’d all look like dirty slobs.”

  She laughed. “That’s true. But just like with technology, there has to be moderation. There’s nothing wrong with doing your best to look nice, but once you’ve gotten ready for the day, forget about your appearance and focus on others!”

  Her face grew serious. “Your body is a precious gift—a temple, even. Take good care of it and don’t waste time comparing it with other bodies. It is uniquely yours, and you are beautiful. And remember, anyone can turn a boy’s head by showing off some skin—those aren’t the kind of boys you want to be with anyway—but it takes real beauty to turn heads when you’re modestly dressed. Don’t ever sell yourself short. You are of royal birth.”

  Grandma reached down into the grass and plucked a flower I hadn’t noticed before. It was a lovely shade of blue and fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. “Here is another reminder. You have many gifts and talents that you have yet to develop. Don’t ever forget your divine nature. You, Eliza, like Eve, are the daughter of a king.”

  Grandma gently handed me the tiny flower. I was prepared to shelter its small, delicate petals, but to my surprise, the flower seemed to be made of a hard substance like porcelain or glass.

  Our surroundings blurred around us, and the last thing I remembered was the smell of the smoke from the campfire and Grandma’s words echoing in my mind: “The daughter of a king.”

  Chapter Nine

  As I got dressed the next morning, I noticed for the first time how loose my jeans were getting. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my closet and examined my appea
rance. Before last night, the fact that my clothes were getting baggy would have made me extremely happy. After all, isn’t that why I’d been half-starving myself these past few weeks? I’d wanted to look like one of the girls on the magazine covers or on TV, or like the skinny girls on the drill team. Now I felt differently. As I looked at myself, I felt ashamed that I’d treated my body so badly. My diet had been far from healthy. Jason was right; I was starting to get too skinny.

  But you look good. And think how fun it will be to shop for a dress in a smaller size. Luke would never want to be with a girl who wasn’t skinny.

  I shook my head and tried to erase those thoughts that always came to my mind when I looked in the mirror. I knew that what Grandma had taught me in my dream last night was true. I’d felt it in my heart. I knew that my body was a gift and that Heavenly Father wanted me to be happy with it and take good care of it.

  Taking a deep breath, I walked over to my dresser, picked up all of my fashion magazines, and dumped them in the trash. Then, with one quick turn in the mirror to make sure I looked okay, I grabbed my bag and headed into the hall.

  All morning I’d been eager to return to the attic to search for the flower I’d seen in my dream. Finding the mustard seed may have been a fluke, but it seemed more than a coincidence that I would dream about something and then find it in the house the next day. Knowing how much Grandma loved games, I thought it only fitting she would leave me these little clues, and something inside me desperately hoped that the flower would be among her old possessions as well.

  I searched through the dresser again as quietly as I could. Mom may have let my unusual visit to the attic slide for one morning, but I knew if she caught me again there would be awkward questions to answer.

  I sorted through Grandma’s old clothes and looked through all of the compartments in the music box—carefully muffling the music as I opened the lid—but the flower was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t have much time before I needed to be down at the breakfast table, so I stood up and sighed in frustration. As I stared at Grandma’s picture, I couldn’t help but smile at the beaming face staring back at me from the frame.

  “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you, Grandma?” I said, wishing she could answer me. I sighed again and was about to turn away when something in the picture caught my eye. I gasped and took a step closer. There, pinned on Grandma’s sweater, was a small blue flower!

  I rushed down to the kitchen and found Mom in her usual spot at the kitchen stove cooking breakfast. I wanted to ask her about the flower right away, but suddenly, I felt a sense of gratitude and went over to kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks for making breakfast for us every morning, Mom. I really appreciate it.”

  She looked at me in surprise and nearly dropped her spatula. “Why, thank you, sweetheart. It’s nice to feel appreciated. What brought this on?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just feel bad I don’t always thank you for all the nice things you do.”

  Her eyes started glistening, and I was afraid I’d gone too far. It didn’t take much to bring on the waterworks with my mom. I hurried to change the subject before we had a whole emotional outburst. “So I noticed in Grandma’s picture that she wore a little flower pin.” Mom’s eyebrows rose in confusion at this sudden turn in the conversation, and I tried to sound casual as I continued, “It looked kind of cool, and I wondered if you knew what happened to it.”

  To my enormous relief, Mom smiled and nodded. “Sure I do! It’s on a shelf in my closet. The fastener is broken, and I’ve been meaning to take it to a jeweler to have it fixed for years now, but I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve never been one to wear decorative pins—are they in style now?”

  I smiled at her innocent question, especially since it provided me with an excuse for my curiosity. “Sort of. Since you’re not using it, would you mind if I kept it for a while?”

  She beamed. “Of course not. I think Grandma would have liked for you to have it. Go ahead and get started on your omelet, and I’ll be right back.”

  I picked up my fork, and before I knew it, Mom was back in the kitchen. “Here it is! A pretty little thing, isn’t it? Grandma wore it often.” She handed the small flower to me, and I tried not to let the overwhelming awe I felt show on my face. My fingers trembled slightly as I felt the familiar, delicate contours of the stem and petals on my palm.

  “Thanks, Mom, this is really . . . awesome.” The understatement of the century! I knew that if I kept staring at the flower Mom would suspect something was up, so after placing it carefully in my pocket, I looked at my plate and changed the subject once more. “This omelet smells really good. Do we have any salsa to go with it?”

  “Of course. I’ve got some sausage here too, if you want some.” I hoped her heart could handle the shocking change in my behavior, but she was smiling, so I took that as a good sign.

  “Thanks, that sounds great.” As I poured the salsa over my omelet, Dad walked into the kitchen. I pretended not to see Mom pointing at me and giving Dad a thumbs-up. Apparently, she’d been more worried about my diet than I’d realized. I wasn’t about to go overboard and hog down everything in sight, but it sure felt good to be eating real food again. I literally sighed after my first bite and vowed that from then on, I would treat my body better.

  • • •

  “All right, everyone, let’s take it from the top!”

  We were standing on the stage in the school auditorium. With the spring concert approaching this weekend, we were holding choir class here every day this week to practice. Yesterday, we’d reviewed positioning and choreography, and today was the first time I would sing my solo in the auditorium. I tried to hide my nervousness by listening to the conversations going on around me. There was always an undercurrent of excitement in anticipation of a concert. Normally, I would have joined in on the chatter, but I was so edgy that I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I’d vomit.

  “Okay, places everyone. Soloists, do you have your microphones?” Ms. Steele’s voice brought me back to reality. She looked at Gavin Stoll, who nodded, and then she turned her gaze to me. I held up the mic and nodded. Gavin had a solo in the first verse of the song; mine was in the last verse.

  “Good luck!” I heard someone whisper from behind me. I smiled at my friend Melanie and mouthed a quick, “Thank you,” before turning around again. I felt a momentary surge of pride at having been selected to sing one of the solos. Choir was a popular and competitive program at school, and it was an honor to be chosen from the many who’d tried out.

  However, as the first chords of the piano rang out, that good feeling vanished, and all I felt was paralyzing fear. Singing in front of the class was bad enough, but it would be even worse when I was staring into the hundreds of faces on Friday night.

  My heart sped up to a frightening pace, and my palms began to sweat. I tried to sing along with the rest of the class, but my voice was quickly drying up. Gavin gave an impeccable solo in his trained baritone voice, but I felt like I was hearing it through a tunnel. As the song continued, I knew that my turn was coming up—there was no going back. Frantically, I considered pretending to pass out, but I’d never been a good actor, and I knew that would attract more unwanted attention to me.

  Suddenly, I heard Grandma’s words in my head: “You have many gifts and talents that you have yet to develop.” With my free hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tiny flower, grasping it tightly. My other hand gripped the mic, and I slowly pulled it toward my mouth as I’d been trained. The spotlight turned its blinding light on me, and I began to sing.

  • • •

  “Great job on your solo today, Eliza!” Gavin called from across the parking lot.

  “Thanks, you did awesome too!” I called back, blushing at his comment. I felt like I hadn’t done a great job on my solo; my voice had cracked right at the very end, and I was sure everyone had noticed. I brushed off the embarrassing memory by laughing at myself and allowed that a
t least it was only a practice run. Ms. Steele hadn’t said anything to me about it, which was a relief, because sometimes she really got after people, and she already terrified me. Now that our initial practice was over and I knew what to expect, I was confident that I’d do better the next time.

  I tried to be patient as I waited for Jill beside my car. I felt a little depressed, and I wanted to analyze my feelings and figure out why. It didn’t take me long to get to the source of it: for starters, Luke had been absent today. Whenever he wasn’t in school, I felt deflated. Like it or not, he was my motivation for looking my best and (truth be told) for wanting to be at school at all. I hadn’t heard any gossip about why he was absent, and I hoped desperately that he would be back tomorrow.

  The second reason I was feeling bad was because of guilt over Jason. He hadn’t tried texting me again since before lunch yesterday. I’d suspected that he was waiting for me to make the next move, and I was right; he hadn’t left me a note today or tried to eat lunch with me. I knew that I needed to make more effort on his behalf, but I didn’t know how to do that without sending the message that I wanted to be his girlfriend. I was afraid that if I gave Jason a little encouragement, he’d run wild.

  “Hey, sorry you had to wait for me again. I’m so excited to go shopping!” Jill appeared by the passenger door.

  I smiled at her as I tried to imitate her enthusiasm. I felt like saying, “Yeah, but it would have been more fun if we could have gone yesterday when we had more time,” but I let it slide.

  Jill didn’t seem to notice, because as soon as we were in the car, she started talking. “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot to tell you! In my last class I heard the best piece of news I’ve heard all year. Guess who isn’t going to get her dream prom date this year?”

  There was only one person whose suffering Jill would enjoy this much, so it wasn’t much of a guess. “Chelsea?”

  “Yes! I heard that Luke Matthews isn’t going to prom this year at all because he’s going on vacation with his family or something. Isn’t that awesome? You should have seen the way Chelsea was pouting in English today! I bet you a hundred bucks she’ll have another date by tomorrow. I feel sorry for whoever the poor sap turns out to be; she’s already turned down tons of guys since she was hoping Luke would ask her, so by now it’ll be slim pickings!” Jill laughed crazily, and I smiled, but I wondered about what Whitney was going to do for prom—would she have a date by tomorrow like Chelsea? I felt sorry for her—and for myself—that she and Luke wouldn’t be in our group.