The Stalwart Ram by Karly Smith
She paced again the entry hall with her eight-year-old feet, passing the ram sculpture—just a dark head with grey clay wool curling about its neck. The ram sat on a thin table, littered with old books, seashells, and stones. When she tired of pacing, the girl would rearrange the stones and shells into different patterns, mapping constellations of worry across the dark wood. The old-fashioned clock ticked away, counting the minutes from the fireplace mantel in the front room. Occasionally, she’d pop her head through the doorway to check the time, then return to the hall to fidget.
“Why so restless?” The ram had been a quiet presence until now. Her heartbeat was quick, yet she answered his low voice.
“My daddy isn’t home yet. He’s always here by now.”
The ram snorted, then sighed. “Hmmmmm. Dark thoughts, eh?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are thinking of all the dark things that could happen.”
“Oh yes.” She looked down shyly.
“You need rest. Are there any green pastures around?”
She tilted her head. “No?”
“Still waters?”
“Uh, no?”
“Hmmmmmmm. Well, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“But what if he’s not? He was late yesterday too. Soon has already happened.” She pressed her face against the cold windows lining the door frame, the smell of wood and glazing filling her nose.
“Well, we’re looking for a different sort of soon, then.”
“I guess so.” She tilted her head. “What is your name?”
He snorted. “I don’t have a name. Ram? I recall my maker calling me a Stalwart Ram but I’m afraid I don’t know what that means. It sounds rather nice though. What is your name?”
“Katarina. Rina for short. I don’t know what stalwart means either.”
The door opened slowly, and a man of average height, average build, and average brown-colored hair walked slowly in the door, head down.
“Daddy!” Rina squealed and raced over to him, hugging his leg. He patted her on the head, whispering, “Hello, little chipmunk,” then trudged upstairs to change
~
Rina paced again. The clocked ticked again. Shells and stones moved again.
“He was here by now yesterday,” she whispered, scurrying back to the table after looking at the clock.
“Worried again?” asked the ram.
“Yes. He’s later than yesterday.”
“Did you ask your mum about it?”
Rina stopped. “She just shrugged and said that he’d be home sometime. She was busy.”
“Sounds like she’s a little worried, too.”
Rina’s eyes widened. “Oh. If she’s worried—”
“Little one, all people have worries. But worries don’t always come true.”
The front door opened.
“Daddy!”
“Little chipmunk.”
~
“Mum, where is daddy? Why is he late?”
“I don’t know, dear.” Her mother continued typing.
Rina remembered what the ram had said. “Are you worried, momma?”
Her mother paused and looked down. “Honey—”
“It’s ok, momma if you’re worried. I’m worried, too.” Rina patted her mother’s back gently. Her mother pulled her up into her lap.
“Thank you.” She pressed her face into the back of Rina’s head, and warm tears fell onto Rina’s scalp.
“Let’s finish your emails before Daddy gets home. I’ll help!” Rina tapped the keyboard dramatically, and her mother laughed a laugh that filled the room.
The door opened, but he'd walked upstairs before she could greet him.
~
Pacing again, mapping again, checking the clock again. 7:20. 7:23. 7:27.
Rina studied the ram's curly wool and dark eyes, wondering what he might say. What was it like to be a ram and sit in the hall all day?
The door opened. “Daddy!”
“Little chipmunk.”
~
Now Rina sat. "7:45. He used to call, Ram, I remember he would. But not anymore. Why Ram?”
“There are many things we cannot know.”
“But what if he doesn’t come home? What if something happened? What if—”
“What ifs will keep you worried, little one.”
Rina stood up and took the Ram's face in her hands. “Why are you not afraid Ram?”
He snorted, seeming such a rough creature, then sighed. “I am not unafraid. But I know why I was made. He whispered beautiful words over me as he labored over my frame.”
“What were the words?”
“'The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want,' he said, choosing the clay. 'He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters,' he said, rolling and forming. 'He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake,' he said, pulling and prodding my horns, my curly wool. 'Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me,' he said, painting my dark colors. 'You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows,' he added, leaving me to dry in the darkness alone. 'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever,' he said, bringing me here."
Rina sat with her dark hair against the pale wall. “What do the words mean Ram?”
“They mean, I suppose, that we will walk through ways that are frightening. But they also mean that we do not walk alone.”
“Not alone,” she whispered. They sat in silence, until Rina’s head drooped, pulling her shoulders down onto the dark green rug. The ram snorted quietly.
Her dad walked in slowly, stopping at the sight of Rina curled up on the floor, arms curled up under her soft chin.
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."
Rina's dad turned toward the low voice which seemed to come from the hall table. The Ram snorted quietly, then spoke again. "Do not forget."
Putting out his palm to its snout, the man felt gentle, warm breath on his cold hands.
Karly is an aspiring writer who spent the past five years writing with students in a high school classroom and has ventured on to other work in order to pursue the arts more fully. Karly lives in the beautiful hills of Northeastern Ohio and is passionate about the way God made us for community and for beholding his wonder in nature. She writes poetry, short stories, and is working on a novel series.