A Letter to God

It all started when I was in the second grade. My teacher told us our town, Raymond, Washington, was so small that almost no one even knew where it was. That piece of information troubled me, and I began to worry about both me and my little town. If there were so many people who didn’t know about my town or where it was, how could I be sure that God knew?

My mother took us to the Baptist church every Sunday. It was there that I first heard that God knew about each one of us, including where we lived. I felt reassured thinking that God did indeed know about my town and me. But I needed proof.

I decided to write a letter to God! I got a fresh piece of school paper. I looked all over the house for the most special pencil I could find and prepared to write my letter. I slipped quietly to my bedroom and sat alone, very serious, thinking about what I would put in my letter to God. How do I begin? Should I even dare write to God? After all, who am I? It’s just me, a kid in the second grade living in a small unimportant town, a town so small no one even knows where it is and no one even cares. But I cared, and I wanted to know if God cared.Dear God,

You are so special. I hope it’s OK if I write to you.

(On the next line I drew a square off to the left margin.)

If you know me, please put a check mark in the square.

I just want to know if you know about me because I live in such a small town. Thank You God. Karen

When I finished my letter, I carefully folded it. I went to the garage to find a jar with a lid. Next, I found an old wooden apple box. I put my letter in the jar, put the lid on, grabbed the box and headed to the vacant lot next to our house. The grass was a bit taller than knee-high, and keeping an eye out for anyone looking, I placed the box on end and put the jar inside. After a quick check for spies, I scampered back to my house.

The next day when I got home from school, I went to get my letter to God. There is no way to explain how excited I was. I took the lid off the jar, took my letter out and slowly unfolded my letter.

The square was blank! I was devastated! How could this be? No, it was my fault! I forgot to leave a pencil. I promptly retrieved the special pencil and put it in the jar along with my letter. I also left the lid off just to save God some time.

The next day after school, more excited than ever, I went to get my letter to God. When the last fold was undone, I stared in disbelief! The square was still blank! Brokenhearted, I put everything away.

I didn’t tell anyone about my letter for many years. In fact it wasn’t until I was a young mother, teaching a primary lesson in the Adventist church I had joined, that it hit me! God had finally answered my letter! The fact was God had written me letters long before I was even born, 66 of them. God wrote those letters because he knew that someday there was going to be a person like me that wanted to know more about Him.

All along God knew exactly who I was and where my little town was. Why did it take me so long?

March 01, 2005 / Perspective
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Karen Davies is retired and writes from Raymond, Washington.