The Parable of the Little Match Girl (Episode 2)

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The part of the poem that we will be emphasizing on today is highlighted in blue. The black colour text in the poem is a recap of what we have already done last week.

Let us now continue our story with the second episode of this poem...

The Parable of the Little Match Girl (Episode 2)

By Joanne Liaw Sook Ling (13^th November 2013)

Adapted from Hans Christian Andersen's 'The Little Match Girl'

This tale is set in the year eighteen forty three

During the Christmas season in a great city

Of Denmark where the poor remained in poverty

Comfort and pleasures were only for the wealthy

In the most impoverished part of the city            

A little girl in rags was counting the money

She had made from selling matches to the wealthy

The rich who were miserly towards the needy

The winter winds blew into the cold attic room

Where the poor girl shivered at her impending doom

Business was bad and she feared the outcome that loomed

O'er her as she lay on the floor in tearful gloom

Her heart sank as she heard the pounding on the door

She got up reluctantly from the cold, hard floor

Her legs felt much heavier than the day before

Her stomach twisted with pain to the very core

She unbolted the door and shuddered fearfully

As she pulled open the only wooden boundary

Which shielded her from the imminent penalty

Of merciless harshness, violence and cruelty

Her father staggered into the room drunkenly 

And slammed the wooden door behind him furiously

'How much is there?!' he glared at her sack of money

Which she handed over to him faint heartedly  

'Pittance!' he yelled as he threw the sack angrily

At the petrified girl who bent down tearfully

On her poor knees to gather her hard-earned money

Her actions infuriated him immensely

He hurled and smashed his bottle of wine on the ground

Glass fragments cut her, but she dared not make a sound

He struck a blow on her head which threw her face down

Her vision dimmed; she passed out on the glass-strewn ground

She awoke the next day, her fresh wounds hurt badly

He must have left to the tavern with her money

She took her basket of matches dutifully

And set out in hopes to sell them in the city

It was too cold to walk barefooted in winter

So she put on a pair of ill-fitting slippers

Which belonged to her late and dearest grandmother

Who was no longer there to comfort and love her

She walked to an affluent part of the city

The shops and streets were decorated splendidly

All the people were going about busily

Attending to their Christmas shopping and parties

The poor little girl begged everyone she could find

To buy some of her matches but time after time

She was greatly disappointed when they declined

To pay attention and spare the poor girl a dime

As she was running hastily across the street

To avoid some carriages as she tried to beat

The busy traffic, her slippers dropped off her feet

She couldn't find them after searching the snowy street

As her bare feet sank into the icy cold snow

Her blue eyes welled up with tears which began to flow

Down her cheeks as she could not contain the sorrow

Of losing Grandma's things; why did she have to go?

She wiped her tears, took up her basket and pressed on

And continued selling her matches all day long

It grew dark for the night had come; the day had gone

The streets were deserted and the girl was forlorn

For a single box of matches she had not sold

To go home penniless, she could not be so bold

It would be better to stay outside in the cold

Than to return home and face such terror untold

She retreated quickly to a sheltered corner

Between two houses; she thought about her mother

Who had died when she was just a little toddler

Just a year ago, death claimed her dear grandmother

It was snowing heavily; the night grew colder

Under her dress, she drew her cold feet close to her

Her efforts were in vain; she did not feel warmer

Outside was much colder than her house in winter

The snowflakes clung to her beautiful long, red hair

Her pale cheeks were flushed pink from the cold winter air

She was shivering as she mouthed a silent prayer

Then she realized that she could use her matches' flare

To keep herself warm; so from the bundle she drew

A matchstick which she struck to yield an orange blue

Flame with warmth that delighted her through and through

When she held her hand closer to the flame, it grew

Smaller, flickered and died, so the match girl quickly

Lit her second match which yielded, surprisingly

A great iron stove in which a fire burned brightly

She stretched out her feet towards the stove eagerly

To warm them, but it vanished with the flame swiftly

As she held the burnt-out match she immediately

Threw it aside, lit the third match and hopefully

The third vision would last and stay permanently

The flame caused the wall near her to turn transparent

She saw, into the room within, an excellent

Array of food which gave forth a very fragrant

Aroma; so she reached out to touch the distant

Christmas pies, puddings, cakes, candies and carved turkey

Which vanished when the flame died; she was left hungry

And wanting more, so she struck the fourth match quickly

And saw lovely presents under a Christmas tree

The Christmas lights were glowing so beautifully

But just as she was gazing at the Christmas tree

The flame went out; she came back to reality

She drew the fifth match and struck it so fervently

The match flamed up and there appeared right before her

The person she loved most - her dearest grandmother

She had never looked happier and healthier

She was so radiant and had never looked better

'Dear grandmother, please stay with me and do not leave me'

'Grandma, please don't vanish!' the girl cried desperately

As she lit the remaining matches hastily

And held them in a bundle which burned so brightly

Her grandmother held her in her arms lovingly

'It is yet too early for you to come with me

God has his divine plan for you which you will see

Live now for Christ ere you enter eternity

I love you very much, my dear little Ashley

But I know Jesus loves you even more dearly

His grace will carry you through your adversities'

The flame was snuffed out by a wind which blew strongly

Her dearest grandmother disappeared instantly

Ashley's lips trembled as she held on so tightly

To the bundle of matches which, regrettably

Had burnt-out; so she started to sob bitterly

So grieved was she that she passed out of consciousness

Her hopes and dreams were dashed into little pieces

She lay still in the snow with the burnt-out matches

Still gathered within her firm grip of steadfastness

TO BE CONTINUED...

Points for Reflection:

·         A tiny match flame, a great iron stove, sumptuous food, a Christmas tree with presents and the beloved grandmother – visions ignited by the striking of matches and vanishing at the ceasing of the matches’ flare.

·         Those vanishing visions were escapades from the hard realities of life that Ashley, the little match girl, derived happiness and meaning from.

·         We live in a world that urges us to secure and elevate our comfort, pleasures, affluence and human relationships on a pedestal; treating them as the ultimate satisfaction and meaning of life. While all those things are not wrong in and of itself – in fact, they are good gifts from God – they should not be prioritized to the level of idolatry, they should not become more important than God. For they are temporary and fleeting, just like the vanishing visions of the little match girl. Famine, calamities, poverty, and death could easily snatch away comfort, pleasures, affluence and human relationships from our hands. And all that remain are burnt-out matches in our hands.

As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.

(Psalm 103:15-16)

All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.

(Ecclesiastes 1:8-9)

Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life—is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever.

(1 John 2:15-17)

·         What are the ‘vanishing visions’ or escapades which you often turn to when life just gets too hard? Do they leave you empty and wanting more? Is the sting of disappointment the bitter aftertaste of those ‘vanishing visions’?

·         The most secure place to invest your hopes, your dreams and your very life in is in the hands of our Lord Jesus Christ, the loving, faithful, unchanging and eternal God. Have you found your meaning of life in him?

But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children,

(Psalm 103:17)

As we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

(2 Corinthians 4:18)