Tomorrow(Darrell Case) He stood in the cemetery looking at her grave. Would the tears ever stop? He hid his grief from the little girl. He wore her mother’s ring on a chain around his neck. A symbol of their love. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. Three years and he loved her just as much as when she was alive. The small child standing beside him spoke.
“Mamma?” she said, looking up at her father. A man she barely knew.
“Yes, honey, she was your mamma.” He said, feeling the sharp edge of guilt. Turning up the collar of her coat against the wind, he gently picked up the 5-year-old girl. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to protect her from the cold.
The rain started just as they entered their home. Stoking the fire in the fireplace, he undressed the child. Then, putting on her gown, he lay her down for her nap. He kissed her on the forehead. She smiled.
“I love you, daddy.” She said sleepily.
“I love you too, Punkin.” He said with tears in his voice.
The 5-year-old drifted off to sleep. A smile on her tiny face.
He watched her for a few seconds and envied her peaceful sleep.
He set about putting more wood on the fire. Then, setting down, he watched the flames.

If life had been different. If he could have been here when she died. Did she believe him when he told her of his love? Instead, he was half a world away. In a vessel he would eventually own. He had a good crew. Men who had faced many storms on the open sea.
He came back wealthy. Ready to ask for her hand in marriage. He came to the cottage where she lived, only to find it empty. He then went to Frances’s mother’s home to find it falling down. Inquiring at the general store, he finally found someone who knew the fate of the family.
“Yes, the woman who lived up the road.” She pointed to the dirt road leading out of the village. “She died bout six months ago. Nobody wanted the little girl. Too much trouble, I guess.”
Swallowing the tears in his voice, he asks. “Do…do you know what happened to the child?”
“Sent to George Muller’s orphanage, I think.” She put her finger under her chin as if that would bring it to mind. “Yes, yes Ashley Down orphanage.”
The next day, he hired a carriage and drove to the orphanage. “I would like to adopt one of your children.”
“I see.” The young woman who met him at the door smiled. “ Mr. Muller is very particular about who we give our children to.” She looked at the carriage. “Is your wife with you, sir?”
“I er…was her fiancé. I mean, the child’s mother and I planned to marry. She died.” He said.
The woman softened. “I’m so sorry. You will have to meet with Mr. Muller. He is in prayer. Come in.” She said, opening the door to the orphanage. In a room crossed from where he set children were playing. He tried to guess which child was her.

He set on the bench for the next twenty-minutes listening to the children play. She would be about five now. She was two when he left. One thing he was sure of, she would look like her mother.
Deep in thought, he didn’t notice the man approaching. “Mr. Bumbry?” He raised his head to see a white-haired, bearded man smiling at him.
“Yes, sir.” Bumbry said. Raising he shook the man’s hand.
“George Muller. As you can see, God has charged me with the care of these orphans. As I understand it, you would like to adopt one of our children?” He set down on the bench beside Bumbry. “Please set down.” Bumbry set.
“Yes sir, a five-year-old by the name of Grace.”
“ As I’m sure you understand, we are very careful of who we give our children to. Are you a Christian, sir?” Muller said.
Arthur Bumbry smiled. “Yes, sir, I came to know The Lord about a month ago. Dwight Moody was holding a meeting. He made a very persuasive argument for Christ.”
Muller laughed. “He always does. I’ll be right back.” Before Bumbry could move, Muller stepped into the room crossed the hallway. Within a minute, he came back, leading a little girl by the hand. He knelt before her. “Grace, this is Arthur Bumbry, a friend of your mother. He would like for you to become his little girl.”
Arthur knelt beside Muller; his eyes were moist. “Hi honey, I was a friend of your mothers. Would you like to go home with me?”
The little girl looked at the man before her. She turned to Muller. “Will he die? My mommy and my grandma died.”
“He wants to help you grow up. You remember what Miss Goodman taught you?” Muller said, smiling.
“That Jesus is just a prayer away.” Grace said. With some effort, Muller got to his feet.

Within a few minutes, they were on their way. The 30-year-old man and the 5-year-old girl.
As they bumped along behind the horse, the little girl said. “I don’t remember my momma. My grandma said she was nice, and she loved me. Did you know my momma?” She pulled the coat he had brought for her tighter against the cold.
“Yes honey. Your momma was my friend.” He wiped away a tear. “We were going to be married, and you were to be my little girl.”
She struggled her left hand out and found his right hand. “Can I still be your little girl?” She looked him in the face.
“Yes sweetheart,” He wiped away more tears.
“Then I’m going to call you daddy.” She said, squeezing his hand.
“I would like that, honey. I would like that very much.” He smiled at her. She smiled back.
They rode toward their home in silence. Father and daughter.
Tomorrow would be a brand new day.

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