This warm-hearted, humorous series relates the growing pains and problems that confront two PKs (preacher's kids), Joy Sparton and her twin brother Roy. Each delightful account is written in the first person, from Joy's viewpoint, in her own colorful language. The gospel, the Saviour, and the separated Christian walk—all are presented in a framework of the experiences of this lovable young teenager.
In Joy Sparton and the Mystery in Room 7, a new home, a police raid, and an unexpected visitor involve the twins in a real mystery.
This warm-hearted, humorous series relates the growing pains and problems that confront two PKs (preacher's kids), Joy Sparton and her twin brother Roy. Each delightful account is written in the first person, from Joy's viewpoint, in her own colorful language. The gospel, the Saviour, and the separated Christian walk—all are presented in a framework of the experiences of this lovable young teenager.
In Joy Sparton and the Mystery in Room 7, a new home, a police raid, and an unexpected visitor involve the twins in a real mystery.
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Overview
This warm-hearted, humorous series relates the growing pains and problems that confront two PKs (preacher's kids), Joy Sparton and her twin brother Roy. Each delightful account is written in the first person, from Joy's viewpoint, in her own colorful language. The gospel, the Saviour, and the separated Christian walk—all are presented in a framework of the experiences of this lovable young teenager.
In Joy Sparton and the Mystery in Room 7, a new home, a police raid, and an unexpected visitor involve the twins in a real mystery.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780802489920 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Moody Publishers |
| Publication date: | 05/06/2013 |
| Series: | Joy Sparton Series |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 96 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
| Age Range: | 8 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Joy Sparton and the Mystery in Room 7
By Ruth I. Johnson
Moody Press
Copyright © 1974 The Moody Bible Institute of ChicagoAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8024-8992-0
CHAPTER 1
The Prospect of Sam
WE HAD LIVED on Parsonage Hill so long that, when Dad finally decided to accept the call from the church in Lake Port, I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach. Roy and I were only about two years old when we moved here, so somehow I guess I just thought we would live here forever.
If Dad had asked me today what I thought about his accepting the new church, I probably would have told him that I didn't think it was God's will for us to leave Parsonage Hill. But you might know, Dad talked it over with God, not with me. I'm pretty sure Dad thought God was a whole lot more reliable than his very own daughter. And since this next Sunday was going to be our last Sunday here, I guess it was pretty obvious that God must have told Dad it was OK to leave.
Now that it was so close, I decided maybe I should have talked to God about it too—more than I had. I could have told Him that it would be better for us to stay here a little longer. When I got to thinking about leaving Susan and some of my other friends, boy, I really felt terrible. And then there was David Tanner. For all the years I had known him, he had only thought of me as Roy's twin sister. And now that we were leaving, his eyes must have been getting much better, because lately he treated me like I was a girl, not like Roy's dumb sister.
"How can Dad be so sure that we should go to Lake Port?" I asked my mother, while we were stacking the dinner dishes.
"Because he feels God is leading us there."
I knew she'd give me that kind of an answer. Somehow a preacher's wife, even though she is your mother, always comes through with a spiritual answer to all your not-so-spiritual questions.
"Would it matter to Dad if I thought maybe God was telling us to stay here a little longer?" I finally dared to ask the question that had been on my mind the whole time. I don't suppose I really thought God was telling us to stay. I guess what I was trying to figure out was a way to convince God that it was OK to stay. Didn't He know that all my friends were here, that I really didn't want to move?
I remembered all the times that I heard Dad preach about knowing God's will and being obedient when He told us to do something or go somewhere. Dad always used the story about Abraham being willing to give up his son if that's what God wanted.
And I really knew that I couldn't just pray and tell God how He should lead us. But oh, how I hated to leave the only home I could ever remember.
Mother must have known how I felt, because all of a sudden she got terribly serious.
"Why, Honey, you know that Daddy and I prayed about it for a long time, and we talked to you and Roy, too. Why didn't you say something about it earlier?"
I opened my mouth to answer the question but even before one word popped out, Roy came through with his smart answer.
"She didn't realize it would mean leaving David Tanner. It just dawned on her now."
I grabbed the dish towel, whipped it over at Roy, but missed him completely. It was OK for me to think about David. But Roy? Did he have to say such a stupid thing right in front of Mother?
Either Mother wasn't listening, or she decided to ignore Roy's bright comment. I think she felt it was more important to explain to me about God telling us that He had a new place of service for Dad.
"Joy, when God leads, it's for us to follow, not ask why. Evidently our ministry here is over."
Boy, with that kind of an answer, how could I say why again!
But these were the bare facts: I'd have to be going to a brand new school and since Lake Port was bigger, I'd probably feel awful lonely there. I knew I would especially dread the first day.
Then too, I'd have to find all new friends. I knew one thing for sure, I'd never find as good a friend as Susan Tanner.
"I wonder if God would ever lead the Tanners to Lake Port?" I asked, hardly realizing that I had said it out loud.
Before Mother could tell me that it wasn't likely that God would tell Mr. Tanner to pack up his business and follow us to our new church, Roy butted in again.
"Hey, I know! God could tell David Tanner to propose to you, and you could be a child bride and live happily ever after."
"Roy," Mother said, a shocked look on her face. I was surprised she didn't scold him about being sacrilegious.
I could have slapped my brother right across his talkative mouth, but instead I glared like I'd never glared before.
"Nobody asked you for your smart remark," I snapped. "Anyway, I don't think you want to move any more than I do."
"I think moving is neato. Maybe there'll be a chance to get into sports in Lake Port. Here it's all sewed up."
"Sports! That's all you ever think of."
"Sure, that's life."
"Life? That's stupid."
"Children!" Mother finally said.
I knew, if we kept at it long enough, Mother would step in as a referee. She always did.
"Let's not fight about things that haven't even happened yet," she added. "It would be a great deal better if you would go upstairs and start packing some of your things. It has to be done and today's as good a day as any to start."
"But we don't move until Wednesday," Roy argued.
Now it was my turn.
"So some of the things will be in a box for a few extra days. Big deal!"
Roy looked at me as if to say none of your business, and he probably would have except that Dad walked in just then with the morning mail.
"Anything for me?" I asked.
"Nope." Roy put in before Dad could answer. "David can't write until we move."
Neither Dad nor Mother saw the face I made at him. They were too interested in an airmail letter that was in the stack.
"Oh. From Carl and Ethel," Mother said, eagerly opening the envelope.
"Let me have the stamp," Roy said, jumping up, trying to grab the letter that had come from South America.
Mother jerked it away just as fast, and Dad started toward the door, looking over some of the other mail.
"I wonder what they have to say?" Mother asked no one in particular. Dad stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows.
"If you read it, I think you'll find out." He spoke soft, like he wasn't sure he wanted Mother to hear him. But she did, and now it was Mother's turn to pass out the dirty looks. If Dad hadn't been checking another letter, he would have seen that it wasn't exactly a preacher's-wife look that she gave him either.
"Oh my," Mother said as she started reading. That's how she usually reacted when something bad was about to happen.
Dad must have thought she was about to faint or something because he came dashing back to the table. Well, dashing for Dad. For anyone else it would have been sauntering.
"What's the matter?" he asked, speaking louder than he had before.
"Sam. They want to know if Sam can come and live with us this next school year."
"Neato!" was Roy's reaction.
Dad took the letter from Mother and at the same time turned and looked at Roy.
"Would you please stop using that ridiculous word."
"Neato?"
"Yes. Neato." Daddy said with a harshness that he didn't often use.
"What's wrong with neato?"
Neither Mom nor Dad answered his question so I felt I should take care of it.
"It's a stupid word, that's what it is."
"Stupid!" Roy pounced back. "You use that dumb word all the time. So what's the difference?"
"Well, you say, 'dumb.'"
By this time we had Mom and Dad's attention again.
"Children!"
When Dad said, "children" that way, it really meant, "Button up now before I do the buttoning for you."
He turned back to the letter.
"Hm. Carl actually wrote this time. He must be pretty concerned about it."
"That's probably because Sam's a backslider," I blurted out.
"Joy," Dad replied, "You shouldn't call your cousin a backslider."
"Well, he is. He's—and anyway you use that word in the pulpit."
"Joy!" It was Mother's turn to chime in this time, and then with hardly a breath she started reading the letter aloud.
"'And so we are very concerned that we have Sam in school and settled in a good Christian home before we go back into the interior.'"
"See, I told you he was a backslider. Even Uncle Carl knows it."
"Oh my," Mother managed again. "Moving to a new place and then taking on a boy like—" She stopped suddenly. Either she would have to admit that Sam wasn't exactly the kind of Christian he ought to be, or she would have to stop short. She stopped short.
So I finished her sentence with a question.
"A backslider, Mom?"
Without answering, Mom and Dad took off for the study, and Roy and I started talking about how things would be if Sam came to live with us.
"I think it'd be neat to have Sam here."
"Don't you mean it would be 'neato'?" I said with sarcasm.
"Okay, neato!"
"I agree with Dad. That word sounds stupid."
"You haven't answered my question. Do you think it'll be good or bad to have Sam here?" Roy was serious as he spoke this time.
"I don't know. A new church, new friends, a new school—and Sam too?"
Roy whistled like he suddenly got the point.
"Come to think of it, it would be a rotten way to start a new school. Having your wild cousin set the reputation for you."
That really made me think. Just because he was a missionary's son didn't mean he had to be a good Christian, and just because Roy and I were preacher's kids didn't mean that we would be good Christians either. Everyone had the same responsibilities. God expected us to be good Christians, but He always let us choose. He never forced us to live a certain way.
These weren't really my own thoughts. I had heard Dad preach like that. What Roy was saying was true. Sam's testimony and life would sure make things hard on us at school. But there was something even more important—what would it do for Dad and a brand-new church?
CHAPTER 2Police Raid
MOVING DAY, ugh! Especially the way Mother does it. After everything had been packed and the movers had finally gone, we had to stay and scrub every inch of the house from the top of the ceiling right to the floor—and the floor too.
I couldn't figure out why that had to be done now. We were leaving it. Who would know if there was a speck of dust left in the corner? When I mentioned that, Mom kept saying God would know how we left it and so would the new minister's wife. Right at that very second my tongue was all ready to ask if she was more worried about God or what the new minister's wife would think. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided that was exactly the question I should not ask right then.
"I refuse to leave this house like a pigpen," Mother said, letting her eyes scan the empty rooms.
For an answer Dad only snorted.
I had to smile too, but I didn't laugh out loud. If our house was a pigpen, some pig sure would have a hard time finding a speck of dust, let alone some mud to roll in. Mother was one of those who cleaned so often she practically wore out the carpet. She wouldn't even let a thread stay on the floor for more than a second. She'd get up from the table or from her reading or anything just to pick it up. So I knew our house just couldn't have been a very good place for a pig. But when Mom said scrub, we scrubbed—all four of us. At least for once Dad and Roy found out what it was like to get down on their knees for something other than devotions.
With all this cleaning going on, I just kept waiting for either Dad or Mother to use it as a sermon illustration. Even though Mother wasn't the preacher, she sometimes came up with better illustrations than Dad did.
And one of them was sure to say, "This is just like the spiritual life." That's the way they usually started when they wanted us to give them our attention. So since I was thinking of it this time, I thought it wouldn't be too bad if I would say it.
"This is just like the Christian life," I said, changing it just a little. The minute I said those words everyone looked up at me like what had ever inspired her to come up with such a good statement. Boy, was everyone listening now!
"Dad preaches that, even though we go to church and read our Bibles and pray and everything," I said, "every now and then we have to have revival meetings to get us thinking about the little dirty corners in our life."
The minute I finished saying that line, I knew I had said the right thing. Dad looked at me like everything was just about perfect, and even Mother smiled like she was pleased. Roy didn't exactly smile, but then he never did smile at me too often. I guess brothers don't try to be friendly with sisters.
"That's right," Roy said, not wanting to sound any less spiritual than I did. "We wash our hands and face every day, and we still have to take a bath."
If the conversation had not been getting so serious I would probably have said, "Yes, but you sure try to get out of it every chance you get." But somehow I didn't think this was the time to say anything so unkind.
Instead, I said, "I suppose you can think of house-cleaning like the house is having a revival." Mother wasn't sure the comparison was right, but she said if it helped me to think about my own spiritual life, it was OK to think of the house having a revival.
As usual, Roy thought my idea was dumb.
I knew the first thing we would be doing at the new house was to help it have a revival too. Again, I couldn't really see why. Because if the lady who had lived there didn't want the next minister's wife to—oh well, I knew it would be just as well to plan to scrub and get it over with. But at least I wouldn't have to worry about that for a couple of days. We were going to stay in a motel tonight since the moving van would not get there with our furniture until morning.
Our last night at church was really terrible. People had forgotten all about those times I had caused so much trouble—the times before I was a Christian and even once in a while when I hadn't let Jesus Christ control my life.
The church people looked so sad. I knew one thing for sure, the first day at the new house we would have to do a whole washer full of hankies. Boy, did Mom ever go through a batch of them!
I wanted to sneak out of the service and the reception, but David Tanner was there and I was not going to miss one single second of seeing him before we left. He told me he would write and that we would see each other at Bible camp next year, but oh, man, that seemed like forever right then. In fact, we had only been back from camp a few weeks as it was.
Finally we were sitting in the car, almost ready to take off. Then without any notice whatsoever, like saying, "Let's pray," Dad started right out with, "Dear heavenly Father." That hushed us in a hurry. He usually gave us some kind of warning that it was time to bow our heads and stuff, but here he started right in without an announcement or anything.
We were all talking when he started, but it got terribly quiet when he paused. Suddenly it dawned on me that his voice had cracked right in the middle of "heavenly," almost like Roy's voice does every now and then.
With that crack in Dad's voice, Mom had made a wild dive for her purse, pulled out a hankie and started blowing again. There had been more nose blowing in our church last Sunday than I had ever remembered. It had been bad enough when all the speeches were made. But oh, wow, you should have heard what was going on during, "God Be with You Till We Meet Again." You never heard so much coughing and blowing from one congregation. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that our choir director had given the signal: one, two, three, blow! And here in the car it looked like Mom was going to start up again.
"We will be eternally grateful," Dad was praying, ignoring all the sniffling and stuff from Mom, "for the years we have had here." By now he had gone into his preacher's voice. "We thank Thee for those who have come to know Jesus Christ as Saviour." And then just as though God didn't remember who they were, Dad started mentioning a bunch of the people by name. And Mom grabbed another hankie.
"We think especially of our dear friends Mr. and Mrs. Tanner and Susan and David."
And at the mention of David's name, I wondered if Dad had any idea what a dear friend I thought David was. I wondered too if I would ever see him again. He had promised to write to me, but at this moment I wasn't sure he really meant it.
I wondered how old I would be before I got to thinking about marriage. Mother told me about her cousin who had liked a boy in junior high school and ended up marrying him.
Maybe someday David Tanner and I would be married. After all, David was a Christian and that's the thing that Dad and Mother had always told us—only to go with Christians, because someday we would want to get married and we had to be sure that they belonged to the Lord like we did.
I remember hearing Dad pray with some people for a life's partner, but somehow it didn't exactly seem like I should pray for a life's partner right now. I wasn't even sure I ever wanted to get married. Maybe I would end up being an explorer or a scientist or something else instead.
While my mind was wandering, Dad must have still been praying. I don't know what other names he mentioned to God because I had stopped short with David Tanner. I must have been thinking about him for a long time because Dad's prayers aren't usually too short and all at once he was saying, "We commit to Thee this trip and ourselves, trusting Thee for guidance, and protection. In Jesus' name, Amen."
By the time we got out of town Mom had sort of settled down and I almost spoiled it by bringing up some things that had happened on one of our vacations.
"Dad, do you remember the time I was supposed to find the route for you on the map, and instead I picked those little numbers that tell how many miles it is between cities?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Joy Sparton and the Mystery in Room 7 by Ruth I. Johnson. Copyright © 1974 The Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. Excerpted by permission of Moody Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
1. The Prospect of Sam,2. Police Raid,
3. Room Change,
4. New House, New Problems,
5. An Unexpected Encounter,
6. The Suspicious Mr. Sinkey,
7. Too Much Imagination?,
8. An Invitation to Stay,
9. Two Empty Seats,
10. Nabbed by the Police,
11. Sam Comes Clean,