Hey, guys! So, the past week has been really hard on me, and tonight topped it. I've been watching Christian music videos and one of them inspired me to write this. This story is based off of a scene from "Strong Enough" by Matthew West. If you're having a bad day, I hope this helps!
Strong Enough
Sarah dashed across the playground and leaped onto the swing, on her stomach. The swing flew forward, carrying the kid upward as if she were flying. It had been a hard time, the last couple of months, for her, losing her mother. But, it seemed to have gotten better when who, finally, popped into her life, but her father, whom she had prayed for since Sarah was very young.
The swing swung the other way, making the wind blow her hair into her freckled face. Sarah kicked at the ground, sand flying up, into the air. The swing went forward, again.
The bright, blue sky seemed to draw near as if Sarah was really flying into it. In fact, when the swing swung forward, again, the little seven-year-old reached out and tried to grab at a cloud, as if she really could.
It felt like life was starting to look brighter for the kid.
Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed a hold of one of the chains, holding the swing up, stopping it, abruptly. Sarah stood to her feet and turned around to see who had done it.
A boy, no more than ten, was standing there, wearing a ball cap, backwards, a lot taller than Sarah. It reminded her of the story, David and Goliath. "Give me the swing, kid," he demanded of her.
Sarah looked on either side of her, at the other swings. "There are plenty of other swings," she shrugged at the boy.
"Well, I want this one. This is my playground, after all," he sneered.
"No, it's not," Sarah shot back, standing up to the boy, "it belongs to everyone."
The kid placed his hands on his sides and looked down on Sarah. "You're new here, so I will let you off with a warning. This is my playground and I am its king. You don't like it, you can leave. So, move it, kid."
Sarah stood her ground, not budging an inch. "No, I was here, first!"
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?" The boy cracked his knuckles on each hand. "Guess I have to teach you a lesson." He, then, shoved Sarah to the ground.
Dean had walked up, at that moment, carrying two sodas. He saw the boy shove his daughter and ran right over. "Hey!" he yelled at the boy, who high-tailed it out of there.
Sarah had landed in the sand, falling backwards. Tears came to her eyes, even though she didn't want the boy to see her cry, as she sat up. She had heard her father yell out. When Sarah looked up, a hand was outstretched.
Sarah stared at it, before reaching up and grasping it. Her father pulled her to her feet and began brushing the sand off the back of her black sweatshirt and her jeans.
"You okay, Sarah?" he asked.
She gave a small nod, "Yeah."
Dean noticed the tears leaking from her eyes. "Don't let that other kid get to you. That's what a bully wants," he told her. "Stay strong and face your opponent, head on. Anyone knocks you down, get right back up and show them who's boss."
Sarah wiped at her eyes, with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Thanks, Dad," she sniffed in.
"No problem, kiddo." Dean smiled at his little girl. He then held out one of the bottles of soda, offering it to Sarah.
Sarah couldn't help smile, in return and took it from him.
Dean held his out and Sarah clunk hers, against his, before they both opened the bottles, taking a swig of it. She, then, hugged her father.
"You're the best, Dad."
"So are you, kiddo," he replied, holding Sarah, in his arms. "Spill that soda on my jacket and I am kicking your ass." Dean wore a smile on his face when he said that.
Sarah giggled at the playful threat. "I won't spill it, Dad. I promise."
Dean kissed his daughter on the side of the head. "I know you won't."