True Spirit Of The Heart

True Spirit Of The Heart

The height of her petite five year old legs barely allowed Ms. Caroline to gaze out the rear window of the Franklin Family’s black chauffeured sedan. Her light golden brown hair cascaded down to the middle of her back in perfect curls and was adorned with a picture perfect white satin bow. She donned a stylish pink party dress fitting for a child her age and wore white ruffled anklet socks and a pair of black patent leather shoes.

With Mr. Thomas, her driver since birth, standing erectly at the passenger door that was ajar, she peered out the rear window looking brightly from left to right, as if trying to see a hidden vista that lay around the corner. “Mr. Thomas,” Caroline called out excitedly to her driver, “Look at the pretty butterflies! I like the one with the striking tangerine orange wings with mint green and baby canary yellow swishes, it reminds me of sherbet rainbow ice cream at grandma’s house.” Mr. Thomas turned to catch a moment’s glimpse of the colorful winged beauties that caught little Ms. Caroline’s fancy. He would have run to the center of her panoramic view and pretend to fly and frolic among the pretty butterflies but today he knew better than to test the mood and authority of Mrs. Franklin. Instead, he simply smiled at the unpretentious things that took hold of Ms. Caroline’s fancy. She was after all a child whose innocence was refreshing and something to be envied.

Ms. Caroline’s mother and grandmother read to her voraciously since she was very little and her command for the English language was evidence of her early and abundant exposure to literature. She astounded many for Ms. Caroline was wise beyond her years and was very observant of her surroundings and used incredible lively details to describe life as she saw it.
As always on their way into town she would look around in awe of the beauty of the countryside as if it were a meadow of colorful candy that she was seeing for the first time. She spurted out colorful details of things as quickly as the speed of the car that moved passed them.

Ms. Caroline’s eyes grew bright as the car turned into the entrance of the road that led to her friend Victoria’s family estate. It was Victoria Vanderbuilt’s sixth birthday and Ms. Caroline now held on her lap a small pretty package laced with metallic curled ribbons that was designed especially for Victoria. With perfect diction and with a hint of a slight lisp on her tongue she inquired, “Mother, do you think Victoria has party hats and goody bag for all the children,” she asked optimistically and opened her eyes wide revealing the pure white that encircled and contrasted against her hazel eyes and black pupils. “I wonder if there’ll be ponies. Oh and a funny clown! Do you think there’ll be a funny clown mother?” When Ms. Caroline realized she would again receive no response, she turned back to the beautiful landscape outside her window that would not ignore or look right through her. She batted her long lashed eyelids that hinted at her excitement while the rest of her body sat straight up and proper as was expected, it seemed, more and more these days.

Deborah Franklin did not hear her daughter speaking; her mind was on her own concerns. This would be the first time that she attended a public event without her husband. Although his funeral was more than a year ago, it seemed just like yesterday. Deborah Franklin nervously fiddled with her white gloves as they turned into the entrance and headed toward the front gate of the Vanderbuilt estate. After taking a deep labored breath she closed her eyes in a last attempt to settle her rattled nerves.

Deborah Franklin and Ms. Caroline briskly proceeded through the receiving line that was moving rather quickly passed the front entryway. There were many guests arriving at the same time and Deborah was thankful that she didn’t have to go into great detail over her absence or any of the events of this past year. She simply held her head up high, offered her hand to the gentlemen who would routinely kiss the back of her hand and nodded and hugged the women as was appropriate according to their social status. Deborah was after all still a Franklin and continued with the pompous heirs of the Franklin Family.

They found their way out to the festivities with the others and Deborah insisted they immediately head to a drinking fountain to get refreshed. Ms. Caroline was already jumping out of her shoes in excitement. “Isn’t it amazing mother, look at the all the rows of huge white tents and extravagant decorations, and all the wonderfully dressed people! How will I ever find Victoria!” Ms. Caroline looked about this fabulous event with wild enthusiasm scanning the sea of adults and children. “Oh what a wonderful party Victoria’s having today, don’t you agree mother,” she asked with a heart full of life. Her mother grabbed her hand and shook her body to jolt it back into the calm state that she seemed to oddly prefer today.

Although aware of her mother’s stern hand, she seemed oblivious and unafraid of her mother’s lack of interest. Ms. Caroline continued, “Look mother, a carousel. Isn’t it a magnificent sight?” This time Ms. Caroline kept her hands to her sides and implored, “Oh my, the shiny golden horses are so pretty. Can I go on them p-l-e-a-s-e Mother!” Not a raised eyebrow or even pursed lips confirmed her awareness of her daughter’s request, nor was a response uttered from her austere lips. No reason was forthcoming from Deborah and this child was at a taunting heart-wrenching crossroads between loyalty to her mother’s unusual commands and that of a free spirited youngster being teased by a child’s dream playground. It was a birthday party for Ms. Caroline’s friend and she wanted to join it.

“Look mother there’s Victoria, may I go now?” Deborah held her daughter’s hand tight and did not respond verbally. “Mother please, may I go to meet Victoria?” Deborah could feel her daughter pulling and tugging at her sleeve. Deborah seemed to ignore every word and urgent request from her daughter and continued to engage in light conversations with other guests all the while not letting her daughter away from her side. Finally in an act of adolescent desperation Ms. Caroline pulled and yanked on her mother’s sleeve, and as she pulled, her mother lifted her arm swiftly as if to dismiss her or rid herself of this grave irritation. Her daughter fell back losing her balance and her tiny hands tore at the lace and pearls that adorned her mother’s sleeve. Her small behind was the first to hit the ground, and then her pink frilly dress lifted exposing the top of her thighs as her feet flew high above her head. Her daughter began to whimper at the mishap and then her mother abruptly raised her hand to silence her child. Ms. Caroline flinched at her mother’s surprising reprimand and curled into a ball which was an automatic protective response to such an unusual startling threat. Her mother grabbed her by the yoke of her party dress, and lifted her up in one swift move and huffed sternly, “You are a Franklin and your behavior is unbefitting.” Ms. Caroline tried to blink her tears away wanting to recognize this woman who was standing before her. Deborah angrily continued, “We will discuss the consequences of your actions when we return home.” Ms. Caroline put her hand to her mouth and scrunched her eyebrows as she tried to figure out the odd taste in her mouth. Her hand was wet now and her dress was now spotted red. Then, at the sight of the blood, it made Mc. Caroline feel woozy and she gasped aloud.

Before Deborah could react and complicate matters further, Mrs. Vanderbuilt dashed between mother and daughter and said, “Deborah, honey, let me take little Caroline and get her cleaned up.” She saw Deborah instantly reach for her white gloves from her handbag and watched as she quickly began to push her hot hands through her white gloves, shoving in her heated anger one finger at a time. “Deborah, it’s going to be okay.” Mrs. Vanderbuilt continued, “I’ve got a pretty dress that will fit Caroline, there’s no need for you to leave. Let’s allow the children to enjoy the party.” Mrs. Vanderbuilt gently led Caroline away from her mother and then turned back to her husband that was following nearby, “Dear, please get Deborah a flute of champagne.” Then she turned to her friend of many years and said, “Have a drink honey, relax, it’s going to be okay.”

Mr. Richard Vanderbuilt returned quickly with a topped off flute and immediately sat with Deborah Franklin at a round white linen covered table adorned with an array of fresh spring flowers and a large hunter green bistro umbrella that shaded them.

After a few sips of champagne and a rush of new thoughts Deborah felt her pressure subside and a cloud lifted that cleared her once foggy senses. Now suddenly sober in her thoughts she turned to her old friend, “Richard,” she began, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cause such a . . .” He gently placed his hand on hers, and interrupted, “it’s okay Deborah, you’ve been under a lot of stress.” Deborah’s face, no longer stern, and her nerves suddenly calmer and sober as if radically shaken awake from a cruel spell, she continued, “But I hurt her.” Richard tried to help her, “It was a little cut. She was bleeding just a little Deborah.” She continued through her glossy eyes, “You don’t understand. I’ve hurt her. All these months, I’ve been so hard on her.” Deborah’s head was now hanging low, a shocking position that a Franklin woman would never have been allowed to display in public. “I don’t know what to do, I feel as though I’ve robbed her of her innocence and youth and I don’t know how to give it back.” Richard looked at this distressed Franklin woman and said something Deborah would never forget. “Your husband died unexpectedly, you were left with much to do. The stress of the months has piled up and now it’s come to a head. This is a good thing. You are ready to move on, ready to reinvent yourself. There are more important things in life than a family name. Who cares what name you bear, or who’s watching you or who claims to be in charge of the family’s business. What’s important is that you begin to enjoy the life that you have with your daughter. She’ll forgive you, children are resilient; she’s just like her mother!” Just then Deborah lifted her head, and saw her daughter Caroline walking toward her. Deborah ran to her child, scooped her up in her arms and hugged and kissed her feverishly. After her emotive tears subsided, as if handling a delicate piece from a rare collection, she put little Caroline down to stand on her own two feet and said, “I’m so sorry honey, for so many things. Mommy’s sorry.” Little Caroline wisely said to her mother, “You don’t have to say your sorry, Mommy, I always knew you loved me. You were just lost for a little while.”

Deborah looked at her child, just a baby, but so wise. She knew that things would be okay after today. “Honey, go see your friend Victoria and go hop and ride on the best looking horse on that carousel.” Little Caroline felt her heart leap with happiness and she hugged and kissed her mother like never before. “Go on now, go,” her mother sent her off sweetly.

Deborah Franklin watched as her daughter little Caroline ran off to enjoy the world in all her divine innocence and simple splendor, and in the “true spirit of the heart” for which life was so magnificently intended.




Inspired by Matthew 18:1-5

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.