“I’m gonna tell Nana,” the small girl with brown curls whined.

“So what?” her older brother shouted down from his tree house. “I don’t care if you tell her. I have done nothing wrong. Go away.”

Abigail Williams wrinkled her nose, her bluff having been called. She may have only been eight, and small for her age, but she knew that if she went to Nana, she would get in as much trouble as he would.

“Fine,” she shouted with a stomp of her foot. “Be that way. I didn’t want to play with you anyways.”

Just then, the back door opened and a tall woman stepped out on to the wooden deck, wiping her hands on a towel. Her gray hair was held back in a large clip, though a few strands had escaped and were framing her kind face. She was smiling, which caused wrinkles to form around her eyes and mouth.

“Charlie, Abby,” she called in a pleasant voice. “Time for lunch.”

The little girl stuck her tongue out at her older brother before racing across the yard. Charlie was quick to follow; he jumped down from the tree house, landed on his hands and knees, picked himself up, and raced after her. Being an active boy of ten, he had caught up with his sister at the stairs to the deck, passed her, and reached their grandmother first. Abby, red faced and breathing hard, glared angrily.

“No fair!” she yelled. “You cheated.”

“Did not.”

“Did to.”

“Enough,” Nana ordered, giving both of them a glare. “Go inside and wash your hands.”

The Williams children did as she said and quietly entered the house. Even though they said nothing, grandmothers always know when an argument is happening. Nana shook her head as she shut the sliding glass door behind her and entered into the kitchen. As she waited for them to finish washing their hands in the downstairs bathroom, she carried hot bowls of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on plates from the counter to the round table. She was laying out spoons and napkins when Charlie came in, hands cleaned.

“Charlie, please get drinks,” she instructed.

Without a word, the ten-year-old fetched two cups from the cabinet and set them on the table. He was getting the milk jug from the refrigerator when Abby entered and sat down at the table. He poured the milk into the cups, careful not to spill any, and returned the jug to the fridge.

“Hey! Abby, that was my cup!” Charlie shouted as he took his seat. Abby had taken the cup that had the most milk and was sipping it, a smile on her face.

“It didn’t have your name on it,” she said.

“Now, stop this, both of you,” interrupted Nana, her hands on her hips. “That is no way to behave. Charlie, you should have put the same amount of milk in both cups. Abby, we are not disrespectful in this house. Apologize, now.”

There was silence in the kitchen as Abby stared at the melted cheese slowly oozing out from the side of her sandwich and Charlie watched three bubbles float around the rim of his bowl. Neither one wanted to be the first to apologize, but with Nana standing over them looking stern with her eyebrows down and her lips in a frown—the pressure was unbearable.

“I am sorry,” whispered Abby first.

“Me, too,” said Charlie quickly.

Nana nodded, satisfied that the apologies were sincere. “Good. Now lets say grace and then you can eat your lunch.” Obediently little hands reached out and Nana took one of Abby’s and one of Charlie’s. She bowed her head and waited a second for the children to do the same.

“God is great, God is good. Let us thank Him for this food. By His hands, we all are fed. Give us, Lord, our daily bread. And, Lord, please make us all kind to each other. In Your Son, Jesus Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” whispered Charlie and Abby in unison. They both began to eat their food quietly.

Nana sat down in an empty chair and watch their pathetic faces as they slowly nibbled on their sandwiches or blew on their spoon of hot soup. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat.

“I think this is a perfect time to tell you a story,” she said.

Both perked up, interest on their faces. They loved Nana’s stories. When they were not arguing with one another, they were bragging to their friends about how Nana’s stories were the best ever. Her stories were always exciting, with adventures and danger, but she usually waited to tell them until after dinner. Charlie wondered why she was going to tell them one at lunch, but decided not to ask. He just waited for her to start.

“My father told me this story when I was your age,” Nana continued, “and I think it is time I shared it with you.

“A long time ago, in a country far away, there lived a boy named Jeremiah Wootten. He was the son of a Christian missionary who had moved to Burma—”

“Where’s Burma, Nana?” Abby interrupted with a puzzled look on her face.

“Burma is a country on the other side of the world.”

“Oh.”

“He had moved to Burma to share His love of Jesus to all of the people. For years, no one wanted to hear Mr. Wootten’s stories, and he was going to give up. But that was before he met a very nice young Burmese woman named Mya. The two of them fell in love and eventually married. With his wife’s help, Mr. Wootten began to understand the Burmese people better and the people began to accept Mr. Wootten. So Jeremiah grew up in the village, listening to his father talk about Jesus and playing with the other children. He learned both English and Burmese, but he did not know he was different from the other children.

“That was, until his father died of a fever. Jeremiah was eighteen years old and now the man of the house. He decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and share the message of Christ to his neighbors. But to do this, he needed to go to school. So he left Burma and traveled to his father’s native New England—where we live,” she added as she saw Abby’s mouth open.

“So Jeremiah went to school to learn everything he could. Before he graduated, he met a nice Christian girl named Jane. She was the daughter of one of his teachers and she wanted to be a missionary. They were soon married and a short time later, Jeremiah returned to his home in Burma, taking Jane with him.

“The village was happy that Jeremiah had returned home, and there was a great celebration of his marriage. With help from Mya, Jeremiah’s mother, Jane began a school to teach the children of the village how to read. Jeremiah decided to build a meetinghouse in the village so that all of the men could come together and listen to his stories of Jesus. He also decided that the best way to share about God was to translate the Bible in the people’s language. Every night, he worked on Burmese… Things were good for them for a few years, but then something terrible happened.”

Nana paused to take a sip of water, and the children waited for her to continue. Charlie’s spoon was frozen halfway to his mouth and Abby had forgotten about the last few bites of her sandwich.

“What happened?” Charlie asked.

“One night, as Jeremiah and Jane and their little baby were eating dinner in their small cottage, there came a knock on the door. It was the king’s soldiers, and they had come to take both of them to prison for being Christians. ‘Please,’ Jeremiah said to the soldiers. ‘Take me but let my wife go. She is innocent.’ The soldiers were surprised that the missionary spoke their language so well. They tied him up tightly with ropes and pushed him out of the hut, but they left Jane and the baby alone.

“Once she knew that the soldiers were gone, Jane began to gather all the papers and items that might be used against Jeremiah. She threw these things into the fire. But when she came to the unfinished Bible Jeremiah had been working on, she knew that she could not destroy it. But if the soldiers came back and found it, surely they were kill Jeremiah and Jane.”

“What did she do?” Abby asked.

“Jane thought hard. Somehow she had to disguise the Bible. Then she got an idea. She began sewing a pillow out of an old, dirty blanket. She put Jeremiah’s unfinished Bible inside the pillow and held it out in front of her. It was a very ugly pillow, all dirty and lumpy and hard, but to Jane, it was perfect. Surely, no one would suspect that inside the hard pillow was a Bible.

“For days, Jane waited in their cottage, afraid that the soldiers would return for her. Jeremiah’s mother came to visit her every day to pray for Jeremiah’s safety. They worried that the soldiers would kill him. At last, a friendly villager had good news. Jeremiah was not dead, but in a prison far away. Jane knew that she had to go to him, so she left her baby with his grandmother, took the hard pillow, and began walking.

“The road was long, weaving through the mountains and dense jungle, but Jane was determined. It took many days, but she finally arrived at the village where the prison was. Hungry, dirty, and tired, Jane had no food left and no money. She was forced to beg on the streets, praying that some kind person would give her something. A nice old woman came along just then and asked her what she was doing, begging on the street. ‘My husband has been arrested,’ Jane told her, ‘and I have traveled many days to get here to see him.’

“ ‘Why has he arrested?’ the old woman asked. She thought that Jeremiah might have done something wrong, like murder or steal. ‘We are Christians,’ Jane said and the woman’s face softened. ‘So am I.’ So the old woman took Jane to her home. She fed her, gave her new clothes, and offered her somewhere to sleep. When she offered to throw away the ugly, hard pillow, Jane refused and kept it close to her. She did not tell the old woman that inside the pillow was a treasure.

“You two better finish your soup before it gets cold,” Nana said abruptly. Charlie and Abby quickly began to shovel the soup into their mouths, and she continued with the story.

“The next day, Jane took the hard pillow with her to the prison. She asked the guards if she could see her husband. ‘No, go away or we will throw you in prison,’ they threatened her. She went back to the old woman’s house. The next day, she returned to the prison and asked to see her husband. ‘No, go away or we will throw you in prison,’ the guards said again. For days, she tried to get inside to see Jeremiah, but each time the guards said no. Then she had an idea.

“The next day when she went up to the prison, she took with her a basket filled with food. ‘May I see my husband?’ she asked. ‘If you give us the food, we will let you in,’ the guards said. So Jane gave them the basket and she was allowed to go inside. The prison was very hot and dark and smelly, but Jane was determined to see Jeremiah. With a guard as her escort, she was led down into the deepest part of the prison where the most dangerous criminals were kept. There, in a tiny cell filled with rats and bugs, Jeremiah was being kept.

“Jane ran over to the bars and reached inside to touch his face. Jeremiah was very pale and very thin because his jailors were starving him. ‘Jane?’ he asked. He thought she might be a dream. ‘It is me,’ she answered. They spent all afternoon holding hands through the bars and praying for Jeremiah’s safety. At last, the guard said that it was time for Jane to leave. As she stood up, Jane pushed the ugly, hard pillow through the bars and whispered, ‘Your work.’ She was then led out of the prison and she returned to the old woman’s house.

“A week went by before Jane could gather enough food to visit Jeremiah again. She put the nice, fresh food in a fancy basket for the prison guards and put some bruised vegetables and bread into a small, ugly basket. As she thought, the guards took the nice basket. ‘May I give these meager pieces to my husband?’ she asked. When the guards saw how ugly the vegetables were, they agreed. So Jane was led down to her husband’s cell once more. As she gave him the food, she noticed that his jailor had stolen the hard pillow from Jeremiah and was using it to sleep on. She said nothing but that night she began working on a fancy, nice, soft pillow.

“The old woman watched her working but said nothing. When Jane went to the prison the next day, she took the fancy pillow with her. She gave the fancy pillow to Jeremiah, saying very loudly: ‘I hope that this soft pillow will help you sleep.’ Jeremiah nodded, understanding what she was doing. When Jane left, Jeremiah waved the fancy pillow at his jailor. ‘Surely, you would prefer a nice, soft pillow to sleep on rather than that ugly, hard one.’ His jailor took the nice pillow and gave the ugly one back to Jeremiah. When he checked, the unfinished Bible was still inside.”

“Is he going to get out of prison?” Charlie asked after he finished his soup.

Nana smiled.

“It is a long time before Jeremiah is released from prison. He was starved, beaten, and tortured by the guards. Once, the soldiers took him outside of the prison and down to the beach. They made him run across the burning sands of the beach by whipping him. When he was finally taken back to his cell, his back was cut and bleeding from the whip and his feet were badly burned and blistered. As often as she could, Jane bribed the guards to visit him, bringing him food and cleaning his wounds. Through it all, they always believed that God would take care of them. Jeremiah prayed that God would spare his life long enough for him to finish the Bible so his people, the Burmese people, could have a Bible in their own language. And God did spare him, even when he fell very ill with a fever and came close to dying.

“The guards had been keeping a lion in a cage in the prison, starving the poor beast so that he would attack and eat the prisoners. But the lion died before the guards could turn it loose on the prisoners, and Jane begged the jailor to move Jeremiah into the lion’s cage so she could nurse him back to health. The guard agreed and Jane spent hours cleaning the nasty cage before Jeremiah was brought there. He was very weak and so thin that Jane almost did not recognize him. She spent days nursing him back to health.

“Things were not easy for Jane, either. She often fell sick, but she was determined to help her husband. One day when she visited Jeremiah in prison, she took with her a new baby. She had given birth to a tiny little girl, and Jeremiah kissed the baby’s forehead. ‘Her name is Maria,’ he said. And Jane took little Maria everywhere she went, even to the prison. Sickness and disease was everywhere in the village, and little Maria eventually fell sick. But Jane was able to nurse her back to health.

“At last, the king ordered that Jeremiah Wootten be released from prison. Even though he was no longer being held and tortured, he was not really free. The king forced him to be a translator between him and the British, who were threatening to invade the country of Burma. For a whole year, Jeremiah worked as a translator and Jane was not allowed to visit him. She did not give up, and when Jeremiah was taken to a new village or a new city, Jane always followed.

“Finally, two years after Jeremiah was first taken from their home, he was set free. He searched for Jane and found her in a small hut, sick with a disease. Little Maria was also very sick and being cared for by a native woman. Jeremiah nursed his wife back to health and tried to help his little daughter, but nothing he did helped. Eventually, little Maria died.”

Abby sniffed from her chair, her eyes filled with tears, and even Charlie, who was too old to cry, was biting his lower lip and staring hard at the crumbs on his empty plate.

“Jeremiah took Jane back to their home, reuniting with his mother and their young son. It was there that Jeremiah opened the ugly, hard pillow and removed the precious papers that had gotten him arrested. It was safe and sound despite being inside the pillow for years. As he read the words of the unfinished Bible, Jeremiah knew that God had spared his life for a reason. He resumed work on translating the Bible into Burmese and, fifteen years later, the Bible was ready to print. Thousands of his people, the Burmese people, now know of the love of Jesus because they can read the Bible in their own language. And that is the story of Jeremiah and Jane Wootten.”

Silence filled the kitchen again, interrupted every a few seconds with Abby’s sniffles. Nana sat quietly, waiting for the children to say something. At last, Charlie shifted in his chair.

“Is that a true story, Nana?”

“Yes, it is.”

“That is so sad,” said Abby quietly between sniffles. “I didn’t know that…and…I have my own Bible.”

“Most families in America have a Bible and some have up to ten,” Nana said softly. “Most of us take it for granted and never read our Bibles, never learn of Jesus’ love for us. They never realize that some people have gone through very terrible trials and situations—like the Woottens—to get the Bible into the hands of ordinary people. We should not allow their sacrifices to be in vain.”

“What does that mean, Nana?”

“That means, Abby, that we should be like Jesus, always be kind to each other, and obey God’s Ten Commandments. That is how we love each other, by following His commandments.”

Both of the Williams children finally understood and hung their heads. Charlie looked up at his sister. “I am sorry, Abby, for not allowing you in my tree house.”

“I am sorry for being mean,” Abby said sincerely. “I will never be mean again. I promise.”

Nana smiled as the two children left the table and, holding hands, left the kitchen to go play in the backyard. She sighed and wiped a tear from her eye before carrying the dirty dishes over to the sink. As she cleaned the dishes, she watched the children through the window. Charlie was helping his sister climb up into the tree house.