The Broken Necklace

The little girl was in the car with her father. "Daddy," she said, "Do you remember my necklace with the heart pendant?"

"Yes, sweetheart. You mean your favorite necklace?"

"Yes, my favorite thing of everything I own!"

"Yes, I know which necklace you're talking about."

"Daddy, it's broken." The little girl's bottom lip began to quiver. "The heart broke off and it won't stay on the chain anymore. Can you fix it?"

"Of course I can!" said the father with a smile.

"Oh, thank you, Daddy!"

A few days passed and the little girl went to check on her necklace. It was exactly where she'd left it, and it was still broken. The little girl couldn't stop the rush of disappointment. Daddy promised! she thought. How could he break his promise? But the little girl knew that her father was busy, and maybe he just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

The next morning, the little girl ate breakfast with her father. "Daddy," she said, "didn't you say you can fix my favorite necklace?"

"Yes, of course, darling," the father responded.

"And. . . you will fix it, right?"

"I would fix it a thousand times over for you, my daughter."

The little girl smiled. Perhaps she had been too hard on her father. She would give him more than just a couple of days this time.

A week later, the little girl checked her jewelry box and found the heart exactly as she'd left it. Broken.

She knelt in sorrow. She clutched the pieces of her most prized possession to her heart and sobbed. She wondered why her father hadn't fixed her necklace yet. Doesn't he love me? she thought. Doesn't he want me to be happy? Doesn't he understand how important this is to me?"

She held the necklace out to study it. She already knew she couldn't fix it herself; she'd tried to a few days before asking her father. She had only made it worse. She remembered the day it had been given to her. It had been a gift from her father, the very father who wouldn't fix it for her now! He had told her the necklace will bring her strength when she felt weak, love when she felt forgotten, relief when she felt weary. And it had! The necklace had done all of those things and more for her, and she needed it. Surely her father knew how she needed it.

But, as she recalled with shame, she'd been the one who had broken it. How careless she'd been! She had dropped it while readying for bed one night. I'll pick it up later, she'd thought, even though something inside had warned her to pick it up immediately. It's no big deal, she'd rationalized. It wasn't until she had reached for it after breakfast the next morning, when she'd needed some comfort, that she'd remembered it was still on her bedroom floor. She'd rushed to her bedroom but when she'd seen her new book sitting on her dresser, she'd excitedly ran to retrieve it. She had been curious about what was going to happen to the fictional character next. Hastily, she'd opened the book and as she read, walked back to her bed to enjoy some quiet reading time. She'd noticed something beneath her feet, and had impatiently kicked whatever it was out of her way. She'd heard a thud against her wall and looked up. Of course, it had been her necklace. She'd gasped, dropped the book, and ran to the beautiful chain and pendant, to find that she had broken it by her careless actions. If only she hadn't put that dumb book above her precious necklace!

The little girl cried fresh tears. Maybe she needed to tell her father what she'd done before he would fix it. Maybe he knew she hadn't been totally honest.

The next day, she and her father were taking a walk. "Daddy," she braved, "my necklace is broken because of me." He knelt to face her, and she recounted the entire incident, leaving nothing out. "I'm so sorry!" she concluded with a sob, "I know you expected me to take good care of it, and I didn't." The father pulled her tear-saturated face to his chest and gently patted her head.

"Oh, my daughter. There is nothing you have done beyond my compassion and forgiveness. I will fix your necklace and make it as new. Trust me."

"You will, Daddy?"

The father nodded and wiped her face.

"But the heart is broken; it's in two pieces."

Now the little girl's father had a stern, but gentle, look cross his face. "Now, my daughter," he said, "have you forgotten what I do for a living?" The little girl shook her head. "What is it, then; what do I do?" he asked.

"You fix things that are broken, things that no one else can fix."

"Yes, that is what I do. I fix things that are broken. I can fix your heart, and I will."

The little girl grinned. "Oh, thank you, Daddy!" and she gave him a hug.

But the next day, her necklace was in her box, untouched. How could it be? How could her father break his promise again? Did she matter at all to him? She needed that necklace! He's forgotten me! she knew. She needed to feel the love, comfort, and protection she felt whenever she wore it. Devastated now, and angry, she collapsed to the floor and spewed desperate, hot tears into her palms. Why has my own father forsaken me when I need him the most?

Soon, she heard a knock at her bedroom door. "Who is it?" she shouted.

"It's me," replied her father.

She frantically wiped her face and opened the door to let him in. He scooped her into his arms and said, "I heard you crying. What's the matter, child?"

For a moment, she basked in the comfort of her father's arms, but, remembering her anger, quickly turned away from him.

"You promised. You promised you would fix my heart. You said you could but it's still broken."

"Oh, my daughter," he said softly. "Did you believe me when I said I can fix it?"

"Yes! I believed you!"

"Did you believe me when I said I will fix it?"

"Yes! I believed you!"

"Then, sweet daughter, why have you not given your broken heart to me? How can I repair what is still in your possession?"