CHAPTER SEVEN 
Mordecai gazed across the table in unconcealed wonder. Little Esther was alternating between some dried dates and some fresh figs. Seemingly she was in a paradise of choice with the right to change her mind as often as she desired. The figs seemed to be the front-runner.
A year and a half had passed since her stepfamily had left for Judea and she had come to grace the house of Mordecai. Yes the neighbors had stared in unbelief; gradually that changed to secret envy and then shared admiration. None could resist the charm she innocently exuded. The dates were making a great come-from-behind effort.
Her acquired stepfather had found a recipient for his long stored desire to invest himself in something of worth. His heart maintained a spillover state of thanksgiving.
Her beauty and the natural grace with which she carried herself would have been sufficient in themselves to keep her at the forefront of the minds and tongues of the Hebrew captives. But when her soul was touched, which was so easily done, the presence of King David’s still waters were ever so tangible. A long drink of Shushan water sent the dates to another arena.
“Tell me more about Father Abraham, please uncle?”
Mordecai thought how ironic it was that she called him uncle (not by agreement, it just stuck). He played the role of father, and he was in actuality cousin.
“Well, where did we stop yesterday?” He knew perfectly well, but wondered if she did.
“Right where Sarah gave birth to Isaac, Uncle; remember how we talked about how God always has a perfect time for every purpose? That we should always be looking for our moment of purpose in life. You told me how everyone of God’s children will have a decisive moment for which they were actually born.” She paused thinking aloud “what was your moment Uncle?”
“Well, I would say I’m not quite sure I can explain it to you, but somehow the very joy of sitting here with you seems very close to my moment.” The response this fetched was a flicker of joy that sparked across the clearest blue eyes in the kingdom.
“The wisdom of a great king tells us that life is like a silver picture frame full of silver figures; all of silver: great value, but of the same stuff. But, at an appointed time, locked away in the divine heart, the Almighty speaks or moves in such a way as to roll a golden apple into the midst of all that silver. That apple is the answer to every question the silver frames, even the ones we know are there but don’t know how to ask them. The golden apple of the word of the Eternal God gives meaning to the rest of the picture. All of the silver is there to form a stage for the apple. Do you understand Esther?”
The beautiful face was transfixed in the innocent trusting assimilation of all that was being given. There was sorting, but no doubt.
“Was that Solomon, Uncle?”
“Yes.”
“Will I have that moment Uncle? Will the Almighty visit my picture with the apple?”
“Undoubtedly child,” he paused, “and I sincerely hope I am there to see it. But, meanwhile we will both concentrate on the beauty of the silver all around us, for ours is not to fret over the apple, but to maintain the luster of the silver. Some marvelous curls hopped back and forth over her shoulder as the girl’s head nodded to the rhythm of comprehension. The stomach made a call for the last of the figs, while the mind mused over apples.
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