The Doll in the Attic


By Marcia K. Leaser

January 15, 2012

 

                                     

When my mother passed away, my sister, brother and myself had the arduous task of going through all of mother's things and deciding what to keep. 

            Mother was a packrat and, I believe, kept every single thing throughout her entire lifetime.  That was bad enough, but HER mother did the same.

            While in the attic crawling through 100 year-old-dust I reached under the floorboards and felt something strange.

            My mind imagined a hundred things until at last I saw in my hands the most decrepit-looking doll I'd ever seen.  Both arms hung by threads with no hands at all.  Her hair was ratty and empty holes stared back at me where her eyes once were.  Her clothes were nothing but rags and she was so terribly dirty her face couldn’t be seen.  I threw her in a box to be taken down.

            Often throughout the next few weeks I came upon this ugly doll and was faced with the decision to keep her or throw her away.  More than once she was in the "trash" pile but something always made me drag her out again.

            One day as I was sitting amidst all the books, boxes and bags I saw her limp, frail body lying on top of a dirty pile of newspapers.  I picked her up and nonchalantly began rubbing her face.  Layer after layer of dust was removed and I was amazed to see a white bisque head.  Red pursed lips and tiny little teeth were revealed.  She had no eyes, but dark eyelashes were painted above and below where they should have been.  Beautifully shaped eyebrows arched perfectly on her snow white forehead.  She was exquisite.

            I took her to a doll hospital and found she was a very valuable doll.  Her original body was intact, but she needed new arms and legs.  What a treasure among the dust.  I have no idea to whom she belonged, or why she was shoved into that dark dingy place.  I only know how glad I am that I didn’t see her the way she was.

            I see this as my life story.  I too was lost.  My life wasn’t what I wanted it to be.  I oftentimes wanted to crawl beneath the floorboards of life and hope no one ever found me.  But I was found... by Jesus Christ.

             He didn’t look at how I was.  He saw beyond all the dirt and grime of life.  He cleaned me up, dusted me off and loved me enough to teach me His saving way of grace.  He saw something valuable in what I felt wasn’t worth bothering with.  I was valuable enough to Him that He went to the cross and died. 

            I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, If I’d been the only one on earth, lost in an attic, He would still have gone to that cross...just for me.   

 

                                    



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