Something Special

         Thump. A dull pain echoed within me. Thump. Twice. A third time. On and on until finally, relief. But, my weak body can hold me no longer and I collapse from exhaustion. My friends silently cheer me on, wishing me good luck.

         As I’m dragged away I dream about what is to become of me. There are no limits, I could be anything. If I’m lucky I’ll become a child’s toy or a family’s house. If not, I will be burnt in an alley, keeping greedy soldiers and dirty thieves warm. However, I know good things can come out of even the worst of jobs. My grandfather himself was proof of that. He was forced to feed filthy horses and smelly pigs, until one night. Having just been freshly cleaned, the old hay was dumped out and fresh sweet smelling hay was put in. While he was waiting, most patiently, for the animals to devour their meal, he was taken by surprise. A little baby boy was laid in the fresh hay. He didn’t know why, but my grandfather knew this baby was very important.

         From the moment when I stuck my little head out of the seed, I was told about what will happen when I was taken away. As a child, I was told that if I was naughty that I would never get out of the forest and that I would fall over and rot. When I grew older I learned that size was a big factor on who was chosen. So, I did all I could to grow very tall and strong in order that I could maybe one day have the highest honor that I could receive: becoming a cradle. As a cradle, I would witness daily the joy and love of starting a family. Nothing would be greater.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I find that I have finally arrived at the town. While passing through the market, I am showered with smells, noises, and sights that I had never experienced before. They excite me, promising me that I would one day soon be very great. Unfortunately, that time has not yet come. I must first be cut and sold.

         After long hours and much hard work, I am finally ready to start my journey. Back at the market, I am placed leaning against the wall, to be admired by all who walk by. Oh! Here is someone now! He is looking at me! I do my best to appear as tall and strong as possible, but no. He walks away muttering something about being too hard. Time after time, day after day, this continues. Disappointment and failure surround me. Wind and rain have weakened me. Mildew and bugs destroy me from the inside out. What happened to me? What happened to my big dreams and bright future? I shall never be sold, never be wanted, never be great!

         But wait! No, it can’t be! I have been bought! Despite my now old and weary body, I have been sold! Who has bought me? What will I be? Questions swirl round in my head exciting the hopes I once had. Here comes the man who will take me to my new owner. He seems delighted with himself. I listen carefully to what he mutters to himself, hoping to get a clue about my future. Sold for so little? Quite a bargain? Soldiers! I don’t understand! What would Roman soldiers want with me? They only buy the cheapest wood they can! Surely not me! Have I become so unworthy that I shall now be sold to soldiers and be made into a rod or a staff with which to punish thieves? Anything would be better than this! But I must submit. I cannot fight it.

         It is dark now and the soldier finally pulls the horses to a halt in front of a courthouse. He calls for his friends and they help him lay me against the courthouse wall. More soldiers are coming and they are dragging someone in chains with them. The child! It is the child who my grandfather once held. The child has surely grown, he is a full-grown man now, but I know it is he! The soldiers lead him inside and I am left with the guards and my own sad thoughts. At first, I think that the guards are going to burn me but they grab some firewood from a pile and leave me alone.

Cheers and insults echo from the full courthouse. They had condemned the man in chains. He was to be crucified. I finally know what I am to be. The soldiers drag me away and work on me until I become a cross. I was now forced to aid in the death of the very same baby boy who my grandfather caressed and cared for years ago. How could I bear the weight of such a shameful burden?

         At last, the soldiers had finished taunting and beating him, at least for the moment. Now he is forced to carry me all through town up to the hill. He looks so innocent, so fragile, so broken. I do my best to help him carry me, but alas, I am only wood and cannot do much. He carries me far, slowly but without help, until he finally stumbles with no hope of getting up again. I thought it was over, that they had killed him before they even made it to the hill. No, a soldier is carrying me now and the man is dragged behind.

         Once we are finally there, they lay me down and thrust him on top of me. They offer him vinegar, to lessen just a little of the pain. I silently urge him to take it but he refuses. Oh if only I could speak! They nail a sign to me that reads King of the Jews. King of the Jews? My grandfather was right! The baby boy was important! But why do they tease and mock him so? They do not believe he really is the King?

         Hours pass by and he fades fast. He continues to refuse the vinegar and occasionally speaks. Finally, he yells in a weak voice, “It is finished!” At that moment, he dies and the sky goes black and the ground rumbles beneath me. It takes all my strength just to stay standing. After everything stills, I realize whose blood I have soaked up and who my grandfather had held. There, hanging by nails on me, is the Son of God.