THE HOUSE WITH THE GOLDEN WINDOW.

Kim rushed inside to his mother, and dropped his haversack of books on the table.

‘Hooray, it’s school holidays’, reminded Kim to his mother as she continued ironing the family’s clothes. Kim continued, ‘Mum, I want to visit the house with the golden windows.’

Kim’s father had died, and the large family home was sold, and Mrs Branson and Kim now lived in a smaller home. But their home was surrounded by trees, a garden of roses, and fruit trees. Mrs Branson bought some hens, which Kim helped to feed daily, and gathered the eggs to sell to their friendly neighbours.

At the small country school in their village Kim had good friends. Yes, he was a happy lad, but since living in Valleyton, he often noticed the house with the golden windows. This special house at the top of the hill on the other side of the valley appeared prominent with a huge pine tree at its side, Kim often wondered who lived there. Were the people rich enough to have such bright windows.

One sunny day Kim decided to visit across the valley. His mother smiled at his brave attempt, but reminded him of the long walk - down the hill, through the valley, then a climb uphill.

However, this day Kim set off eagerly as his mother waved from the doorway, and reminded him to eat his sandwiches, his apple and drink the water she prepared for him.

‘It’s OK,’ he laughed, ‘I’ll remember.’

Kim’s steps quickened as he hurried down to the valley, so eager to see the house at the top. He stopped at the edge of the creek, ate his sandwiches and apple, and drank some water, as well as cupping his hands and lapping the cool stream-water. Then he prepared for the walk up the hill.

He strode across the wooden bridge, and eagerly skidded across. As he climbed higher, Kim’s steps slowed. But he knew it was worthwhile. Fancy seeing a house with golden windows. ‘The owner must be rich’, he thought, for money was scarce in his home.

On he plodded till suddenly he arrived near the tall pine tree, next door to the house. But where were the golden windows. Surely this was the right place. It must be because of the pine tree. Puzzled, Kim stood nervously at the front gate. But feeling unsure, Kim opened the gate, and walked along the stony path. At least he could ask the owners to tell him. But as he approached the verandah, an old man shuffled from the side of the house.

‘Get out of here,’ he shouted at Kim. ‘So you are the boy who stole my prize hens. Have you come to admit that?’ He was angry, ‘Boy, get out of here before I take hold of you.’ Rather scared, Kim quickly turned, and ran out of the gate, ready to run down the hill back home.

But a young girl walked from the garden from the other side of the house. ’Don’t be scared,’ she encouraged Kim. ’Grandpa isn’t feeling well today. Some one stole his prize fowls he intended entering in the show, and he was so angry he blames everyone he sees.’

That comforted Kim somewhat as this sweet child reassured him. So he asked her courteously about the house with the golden windows, and how he came especially to find it.

‘Oh,’ said Yvette,’ I know the house you mean. I see it every day, and I have often wished to visit it myself. But you walked a long way to find it, and now you have come to the wrong place.’

‘I’m very disappointed,’ said Kim sadly. It had been a long tiring walk. ’I did want to see it. But, please tell me where I can find it, Yvette.’

‘If you turn around, you will see it,’ and Yvette pointed to the other side of the valley. Sure enough, there was the house with the golden, shiny windows.

‘But it can’t be,’ said Kim, so surprised, and gasping. ‘It certainly is, Kim’, said Yvette, now smiling at her secret. ’I stand here every day about this time, and I often think how wonderful it must be to live there, and those people must be happy living in that home.’

Kim could barely believe it - he shrugged his shoulders , and for a moment remained silent. The house with the golden windows was his very own house across the valley. How? Still wondering,, and with Yvette returning to feed her grandfather’s fowls, he bade her ’Goodbye’ and started off for home, turning to wave at the smiling Yvette.

This time he took a few moments to refresh by the stream, then walked as fast as possible up the hill to his own home. He was still mystified about the home with the golden windows.

At home his mother waited for Kim. She hugged him as he came panting up the path, and he hugged his Mum.

‘Well dear, did you find the house?’ ‘Yes, Mother. And it is not only the house across the other side of the valley. It is our home. When I arrived there the windows were ordinary glass, and I looked across here, and the windows of our house sparkled.’ But Kim still puzzled.

Mrs Branson explained to her son, ’Kim, the sun shines on the glass, and when you look across to see them, they appear like dazzling gold. When you arrived over there,’ she pointed,

‘You were out of the sun’s range, but then your own home looked as though it, too, had golden windows.

Kim thought of the grumpy grandpa whom Yvette cared for. Then he thought of his own dear gentle Mother, who worked so hard, and who loved him so much. The sun began to go down as he stood there with his mother, and he knew that the windows were really only glass.

But Kim kneeled at his bed that night. ‘Thank you , God, for my home. Thank you for my beautiful mother, who teaches me about your love for me. I am sorry that I envied the people on the hill across the other side of the valley. They weren’t happy. Please let Yvette come to our Sunday School and learn about You. And thank you, God, because our home really has golden windows, because your sun shines so brightly.’

As Mrs Branson heard Kim’s prayer that night, she helped her son understand that the love of God in their home was like the sun shining out to give the light of God’s love to their family, friends and neighbours.’ And to Yvette, too, and her Grandpa,’ added Kim, ‘and also our neighbours.’

The Lord Jesus Christ shines into our lives when we trust Him, whether we are at school, in the home, working in an office, factory or school, or wherever we may be.

May our lives be like Golden Windows.

This story came from childhood memories. Gwenda