A Sparrow Will Not Fall

By Barbara Jordan

A real-life story of how faith in God can sustain you through the darkest of times. You will read of the strength of a mothers love, a son who chose to go his own way, and, over it all, a heavenly Father who is present in every situation and circumstance. Th is book will inspire you, challenge you and bless you. Rev R. Lionel Currie
Bible Teacher & Pastor

A well-written powerful and moving story. Th e grace and maturity in which it is written will, I am sure, be of benefi t to all who read it.
Rev John Glass
General Superintendent of the Elim Pentecostal Church

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467007504

Barbara Jordan

The author tells of her childhood conversion to Christianity. Of a lifetime of following Jesus and believing His word. Her tremendous faith in a God of provision and promise. Her faith was challenged when her Christian son became a prodigal, and later took his life. Her story is about a faithful and merciful God who never lets go of the ones who belong to Him. Trusting in God alone she has proved that without the use of medication, she was able to come through the traumatic event. She comments that we can experience comfort, assurance and guidance from a God who can see in the dark. We can emerge from the tunnel with an increased love for God, His church and His people. This book will be the means of bringing comfort and hope to many.

Book preview

Chapter 1

THE DAY AFTER THE FUNERAL

It was the day after the funeral. I was standing looking at the rectangular mound of clay sods that covered Richard’s grave. With my sister I had returned to the cemetery to look at the floral tributes which by now had been placed on the top of his final resting place. To reflect on the sad happenings of the previous day.

The keen overnight frost had transformed the beautiful fresh bouquets into a wilting heap of shrivelled flowers. I decided to collect the attached ‘in memorium’ cards to take home with me to read later.

It was a cold, bright sunny day but I felt forlorn as I looked around the large empty Victorian cemetery. I could not grasp why my son, in his early twenties, with all his life before him had chosen to end it prematurely. Now he was lying buried here alongside other decaying bones.

I had heard that in the past this cemetery had been frequented by glue-sniffers. I hated the thought of youngsters acting in a disrespectful manner in the vicinity of my son’s grave.

While my sister and I were discussing the situation, a dishevelled old man walked towards us. I noticed that the man had green teeth. He seemed to know of my fears, and went on to assure me with a cheery smile that the glue sniffers never used this side of the cemetery. He assured us that the police now visited the area nightly, so there was no need for me to worry.

We later reflected whether the man was merely human, or an ‘angel with green teeth’, had been sent by the Lord to dispel any lingering doubts I had as to the safety and sanctity of my son’s resting place. From that time on I never worried about the place of his burial.

This book is an account of my son Richard’s short life and its traumatic ending. It is also a written testimony to the way in which my wonderful heavenly Father dealt with me during this time. I hope my story will not come across in a ‘be sorry for me’ tone; but will have a ‘thank God for His faithfulness’ ring to it.

I have proved, without any shadow of doubt, that the Lord is able to bring us through some very troubled times if we keep our eyes and ears fixed on Him. We can emerge from the other end of the tunnel with our faith intact, and an increased love for the Lord, His church and His people. We do not have to live the rest of our lives with a chip on our shoulder, nor do we have to stop enjoying to the full the abundant life that God has given us through Christ.

A number of years have passed since Richard’s tragic death. I reflect on those times of testing as times of trusting. Times when God was working steadily on me strengthening my faith and changing me from the person I was into the person I am now.

Chapter 2

GOD’S GIFT, A SON

Richard was born at Easter: a lovely time of the year to have another baby. He had a mop of fair curly hair. Everywhere I took him people remarked what a beautiful child he was. His sister, two years older, was so excited at having a brother that from the beginning they were very close. As soon as he could toddle he would follow her everywhere.

He was a real boy and quite a handful to raise. He was very able practically, having dismantled his wooden cot whilst still in it at the age of two. He managed to throw the mattress out, before unscrewing the bolts, using both his finger nails and items he could reach from the adjacent chest of drawers.

His sister was academically minded and sailed through her school days and exams with no problems. Richard was constantly in her shadow, but she would willingly stand back to allow him to have most of the attention.

Although excelling at school in mathematics, technical drawing and metal work, he would worry so much about the exams that he never completed any. His sister spent lots of her time trying to help him. Though intelligent he was very slow with his work, and was easily distracted. He was more concerned with the quality than he was with the volume. He made sure that his work was very neat. He really did dot the Is’ and cross all the Ts’.

The school tests and examinations were crammed into three weeks of intensive written tests on every subject. All the knowledge had to be stored in one’s head. This was fair enough for the children who had photographic memories, but a nightmare for the children who had poor memories or who took a little longer to bring things to mind. Richard was listed in the latter category, but unfortunately his school never addressed this problem.

Our house and large garden were always filled with children, particularly in the school holidays. We had two white pet rabbits that were allowed the full run of the garden during the day. Richard was popular with his many friends; he loved attending church and Sunday school. Throughout his childhood not once did he say that he did not want to attend church.

He joined the cub-scouts at a local Methodist church, as the fellowship we attended did not offer this activity to children. I was a cub assistant for a time. We both learned many new skills including starting a campfire from flints and kindling.

On one occasion we cooked minute pancakes on upturned empty bean cans. We punched holes in the sides of the cans and placed a lit candle under each one to heat them whilst we made the batter. It was only a minor detail that the batter contained blades of grass or lumps of soil. The fun was found in trying to prise the tiny hot, but often raw, pancakes intact from the upturned cans using oven gloves and spatulas. Raw pancakes with lashings of treacle and chocolate sauce made them edible enough for the hungry cub-scouts to polish the pancakes off quickly.

Richard was very precise about his appearance, especially regarding his cub uniform. He would polish his shoes for ages, making sure that his grey socks were turned down exactly the same on each leg, then after carefully putting on his green garters, he would add a well-sharpened pencil down one of his socks. He worked enthusiastically to earn his badges and did everything he could to impress the Arkela.

He was well mannered; always the last in the queue for food, standing back and making sure that everyone else was served before he was. He had great dexterity. From being a small child he was able to repair almost all broken objects, mechanical or electrical. They were