{"chapter_no":"38","chapter_title":"A Beautiful Voice","book_id":"3","book_name":"Springville","subchapter_no":"0","page_no":"566","page_number":"1","verses_count":0,"total_pages":3,"page_content":"

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Chapter 38<\/span><\/p>

A Beautiful Voice<\/span><\/h1><\/p>

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Martha enjoys the lesson—The story and paintings of Cosette create powerful emotions inside of
her—She <\/i>learns to speak new words<\/i> in the language of the Spirit.<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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Blended into the audience, and hidden by the dimmed lighting of the room, Martha
listened closely as the beautiful story was told. She quickly recognized the story from Les
Miserables<\/i>, a book she was familiar with generally, having seen it portrayed in movies over the
years. She glanced delightfully at the painting. It lit up the room like a cathedral lights up the
night sky. It was difficult to decide which was more pleasant to her––hearing the story of Cosette
or seeing the painting on the easel. <\/span><\/p>

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It’s a story just perfect for a child. I wish my grandchildren were here to see this<\/i>!<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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I wonder who did<\/i> that painting? What beautiful <\/i>art<\/i>work<\/i>!<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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But the story... she was missing the story! <\/span><\/p>

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The story and the painting—these two things blended together created powerful emotions
inside of her. She was experiencing a full cycle of happy and sad emotions, all of them linked,
like spokes on a wheel, to a central hub of goodness. The tragic story of Cossette was
heartbreaking. On the other hand, that beautiful doll was there, majestically portrayed in the
painting. The doll brightened the countenance of a hopeful and gleaming Cosette. But it was just
a story, right? It wasn't real life. Why then did she feel so sad? <\/span><\/p>

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Cosette’s longing, captured so well in both the story and the painting, was joyful, even if
the object of Cosette’s affection was not necessarily obtained. The innocence and humility of the
little girl being portrayed heightened Martha's emotions.<\/span><\/p>

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She wondered, What<\/i> am I really <\/i>see<\/i>ing in this painting<\/i>?<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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She saw the innocence of the children of the world and, most especially, the innocence of
the children who suffer most, like those in Africa and the other impoverished regions of the
world. She saw a little person, a fictional person, but a person nonetheless. <\/span><\/p>

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Could the money I’m <\/i>planning to <\/i>giv<\/i>e<\/i> to <\/i>the <\/i>chari<\/i>ty program<\/i> of this <\/i>c<\/i>hurch<\/i> help a little
girl like this somewhere in <\/i>Africa? Can I create the<\/i> same kind of joy<\/i> there for a child like
Cossette<\/i>?<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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She reflected on her own life and what more she might do in the service of others in the
years ahead. The treatment of Cosette by the Thenardiers had given her cause to mourn, but the
fineness and beauty of the painting were pure happiness at a glance––as if she herself were
experiencing Cosette’s vision of the doll. <\/span><\/p>

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Looking around the room, Martha suddenly remembered that she wasn’t alone; there
were others there like herself who were listening to the story and could see the painting. She
leaned towards her new friend, Carolyn, as if to whisper something to her, but in doing so she
noticed that something remarkable was happening. There was a very comfortable feeling in the
room, even peaceful, one might say. And she was feeling a burning sensation in her bosom.<\/span><\/p>

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What is this I'm experiencing? Is <\/i>it<\/i> the Spirit of God?<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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She tried to whisper, but found it difficult to do so, like one trying to sound out words for
the first time in a new language. <\/span><\/p>

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Confused, she asked the question again.<\/span><\/p>

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Is <\/i>it<\/i> the Spirit?<\/i><\/span><\/p>

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It seemed the answer to her question was a resounding \"Yes.\" And with the Spirit came
new feelings, new strength, and a new state of being for her. But there had been no time to
prepare. More time was needed to explore all of this in her mind. <\/span><\/p>

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The Spirit of God, having come so quickly, was amazing to her. It was a complete whole
of something, like beautiful and powerful music filling her soul. Looking again at the painting,
and then back towards the teacher, she smiled and clasped her hands together in her lap—an
outward gesture of someone who is just about to do something. Inexplicably, as if by instinct,
Martha suddenly stood up from her seat in the audience. With a confused smile, she looked at the
teacher as if to say something or make known a feeling about the painting or the story. Having
done that, she stood in wait of her next assignment, whatever that might be. <\/span><\/p>

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Immediately, the reaction from those seated around her in class was that her action was
out of order. She was a stranger, and her purpose in standing was unclear. Some whispered to the
effect that “she needs to sit down,” while others whispered back, saying “let her alone, she is just
fine as she is!” <\/span><\/p>

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Carolyn, sitting next to her, became alarmed, sensing that the mood of the classroom had
changed. She, too, had been in awe of the presentation. But seeing the small stir that had arisen,
there was a need for someone––an Abish type of person––to act. And Carolyn responded in kind.
She reached up and lightly prodded Martha, touching her arm. This seemed to do the trick.
Martha turned to her and smiled, then sat back down. <\/p>

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Seated again, she looked around the room in amazement and whispered to Carolyn. <\/span><\/p>

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“This story of Cosette is beautiful! I’m so glad I came to your church today!” <\/span><\/p>

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