In this short story posted in two parts Evie Smith has somehow reached the end of Year 10 and is looking forward to the summer holidays and a break from school. A few weeks of lie-ins and laziness beckon, but God has other ideas. Her natural father, supposedly in prison, turns up on the same day that she finds herself with a new relationship with her heavenly Father. The story tells of how with the help of her friend and mentor Becca, Evie comes to understand her need for repentance and her decision to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. At that decisive moment Evie receives eternal salvation as well as new hope, forgiveness and a buzzing new outlook on life.
Evie has a new Father
Part 1
“I hate my Dad!” I didn’t mean to shout it out loud. But everyone heading out of school that afternoon looked at me. Maybe flinging my school bag down the path had helped too. As it landed it had burst open. Now the contents lay in the path’s muddy puddles. Maths Workbooks mostly.
My Dad! Even from his prison cell he still managed to ruin my life. He had only written to my Maths teacher Mr Philpott. “Dear Mr Philpott. I am sorry to hear Evie is struggling with her maths. I’m sure she would benefit from some extra practice during the summer break. Perhaps you could provide something for her? Best wishes, Jimmy Smith.”
And Mr Philpott did! I now had half a dozen Workbooks to complete during the holidays. Thanks Dad! Not! I know my understanding of Maths isn’t good – but I have done really well in English this year. It’s my favourite subject. I love reading and have just started writing stories too. You can’t be good at everything!
I picked up the books scattered across the path, and now dripping mud, and stuffed them back into the bag. I was going to try and forget about maths, at least for a while.
Somehow I had got through Year 10. That at least was something to celebrate. I headed straight home, let myself in and went up to my room. Six weeks of freedom until the start of Year 11 and “The Exams”!
I abandoned my ridiculous school uniform and changed into my favourite jeans with their ripped knees and the new crop top I had got last Saturday. I banged the front door behind me and headed past the railway station to the supermarket. It was the usual busy Friday afternoon. I walked along the line of checkouts with their queues. I saw Mr Philpott, struggling to load food into bags, accompanied by his toffee-nosed son, who seemed about my age but went to the local private school. Posh or what! I think teachers are overpaid. I quickly looked the other way. I didn’t want to think about school and certainly not about Maths, Mr Philpott or my Dad and his letter.
I reached the entrance to the Café and turned in. At the far end of the Café someone was waving at me, shouting “Hi!”. I grinned. It was Becca. Tall, thin, blond and with a permanent smile on her face. She was sitting at an empty table and beckoned me to join her. She was my Youth Leader and (though she didn’t know it) my hero.
I joined her. Pointing to the spare seat opposite her, she said: “I’ve already got you your favourite Tropical Fruit Whatsit. Come and sit down!” Becca had whatsapped for us to meet up. She had promised not to say a word about school. She’d given up asking about my day at school some time ago. She said all I ever did was grumble. At first she used to say: “Don’t be so negative. One day you will look back on your time at school with pleasure and gratitude!” I think not! She sounded just like my Gran.
Becca and me? It was one Friday in the Easter holidays that I had first met her. I was out shopping with Gran. Gran and Becca knew each other because they went to the same church. Gran said: “Evie, this is Rebecca Campbell, she runs the Youth Group at our church.”
Becca shook my hand warmly and said “Please call me Becca”. We chatted for a bit and then she invited me that evening to the Youth Group that she and her man Charlie ran every Friday night. There was never anyone at home on a Friday. Dad of course “was away” and Mum was on her late shift. My baby sister, Lucy, was at Gran’s. Mum picked her up on Saturday morning on her way home from work. So I found myself saying OK. That evening I turned up at the Church Hall.
Becca immediately gave up chatting to a gorgeous bloke. I discovered that was Charlie. She introduced me to him. He and Becca seemed to be about 19 or 20, perhaps a bit older. But he was hot! Oh, but she quickly told me they were engaged! Then she introduced me to some kids about my age. Some I recognised from school, others I didn’t know. Mostly they said “Hi” in a friendly way, but then went back to their phones.
And yet from that first time I felt as if I belonged there. At the end Charlie told us how he had become a Christian. I could see that this whole deal was a Christian one. But I couldn’t work out for the life of me what these cool guys were doing in church. Gran goes – but she is Ancient!
Even so Becca and Charlie seemed to have something that I didn’t. At first I couldn’t work it out. But after a couple of weeks I began to see it. They seemed so happy and content. And they were sort of “in a relationship” with a supernatural God and with this man called Jesus who had come back from the dead. Ouija boards or what! That blew my mind. And then – the Youth Alpha. That was good. We had fun and food and cool videos. It finished last week.
So now I knew much more stuff about Christians. But these Christians were different. They talked about relationship, not religion. And yet something stopped me from saying “Yes” to God. I just couldn’t understand why he would want me as his daughter, why he or anyone else could possibly love me.The horrible Evie. The Evie with dark secrets that nobody must ever discover. Ever!
Becca waved her hand in front of my face. I was miles away, deep in thought about how despite my awefulness we had become friends and now spent time together. She moved the Whatsit right in front of me. I gratefully took a swig from the glass. Then I looked up at her. “How come you always buy the drinks? I demanded. “You must have plenty of money!”
She thought for a moment. Then she looked straight at me and said: “Shoplifting!” And I knew at once that it was me, not her, that she was talking about. She knew my darkest secret. I felt my face go red.
“H… how d.. d .. did you find out?” I stuttered. I felt as if my whole world was collapsing. Becca, my hero, knew my guilty secret. It was the end of our friendship. Without waiting for her reply I got up to leave.
I had only gone a couple of steps when she called after me. “Evie Higgins! Come back! I want to give you a hug!” I turned, my eyes filling with tears. She got up from behind the table and quickly folded me in her arms. That was the end! I don’t do hugs. I burst into tears, right in the middle of the Café. Through my tears I saw Mr Philpott looking at me oddly, and then glancing at his posh son and smiling. I didn’t care. This time Becca’s hug and her gentle smoothing of my hair was all that mattered. She still wanted me as a friend. Yeah, despite everything, despite my shoplifting, despite the hateful things I said about others and especially about my Dad. She still loved and accepted me!
After a bit she gently took my hand and led me back to the table. “Finish your Whatsit and listen to me!” she ordered. I nodded meekly.
“Just now when you walked into the Café I saw you in that new crop top and God immediately put into my mind the word “shoplifting” and then I heard him tell me to say it to you. And then straight away there was an opportunity – so I took it. I didn’t know the significance of the word but now I can guess!”
I could feel the tears coming again, but this time there was a feeling of relief. At last someone else knew about my problem. Someone I trusted enough to help me. We sat down at the table again. Becca reached across to grab hold of my hands. “Let’s talk!” she said.
It was a three Whatsits talk. It seemed as if we talked for hours. We took it in turns, but me mostly. I cried. A lot. Even Becca cried once. For the first time, ever, I told someone what I was feeling. Becca was the only person I had ever met I felt I could trust.
I started by telling Becca how things were at home at the moment. But it was as if she knew that my real problems went a lot deeper, back to when I was much younger.
She listened patiently to my ranting and raging. Then when I stopped for breath, she asked about my Mum and Dad. But it was how I got on with my Dad she was really interested in.
I told Becca how Mum and Dad weren’t married when I was born. That Dad had later told me angrily that if I hadn’t arrived there was no way he would have married Mum. I told her how Dad used to disappear for weeks on end and then one day, when I was five, he didn’t come home at all. Not for years. That time he was away I later realised was his first time in prison. Mum used to go out leaving Gran to look after me, some of it was shift work, but sometimes it was, as she said, to have a bit of fun. Then for a while Dad was back. Grumpy, almost ignoring me. It was terrible. All they did was argue. I could hear them nearly every night. The following morning sometimes Dad wasn’t at breakfast. Sometimes Mum disappeared for days on end. Gran did what she could, but she was working too.
I got good at making meals for myself. Often I didn’t eat at all. That’s when I started the shoplifting. Food at first. Ready cooked meals.Then clothes and stuff. I was clever and never got caught. Then Dad disappeared “away” again. Mum said this time he had gone for good. And then after a couple of years, when I was about eleven, Mum told me I was going to have a baby sister. And sure enough, Lucy arrived. Still don’t know who her Dad is. Not the same as mine. But I carried on shoplifting – food and clothes for Lucy now. Mum was drinking and out of work.
I stopped. I could feel the tears coming again. But now I had started, I just had to carry on.
“I don’t blame Mum for all this. But I have a real problem with my Dad. How could he not love his own daughter? I guess I’m just heartbroken that I never had a proper Dad, one who was there for me, bought me presents, joshed with me. Just wanted to be with me. And love me. That’s the worst thing really. I knew he didn’t love me.”
I felt the tears coming again. But there. I’d said it. I’d never admitted it before. But it was the truth. My Dad didn’t love me. And he still doesn’t.
I carried on through the tears. “And Becca, I feel so alone, as if there is no one looking out for me….. But you are the first person that I can truthfully say is my friend.”
I looked up at her. All this time she had been holding my hands across the table, squeezing them sometimes when I got tearful. I could see tears in her eyes too.
Then she spoke: “Evie, that is so sad! But you know there is a way forward! When I was 8 I lost both my parents. The Dad who I loved and I thought loved me – just disappeared. And he took my Mum with him. And though I was told it was not on purpose, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. Or to trust other men – not even Charlie.
But then, on the top of a Scottish mountain, just a few weeks ago, God spoke into my life. Supernaturally. He showed me in an amazing way, that I needed to forgive my Dad. And so after many years, I did. But God didn’t stop there! On that mountain He showed me how much He loved me. He told me that despite awful thoughts about my father abandoning me He still loved and accepted me. He told me how much He wanted me to be all that He had created me to be. And, as I came back down the mountain I remembered the lines of an old hymn that speaks about His amazing grace.
In it there’s this verse.”
And she sang them gently to me there in the Café:
“The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
“Evie, I know those words are true. He is a true, perfect Father. He’s not like our earthly fathers. I now know He’s always there for me. I know He has forgiven my sins. And Evie, he can be, will be for you too, if only you will let Him!”
I nodded slowly but doubtfully. “Becca, no one has ever sung to me in a Café before. But despite what you say and what I heard at Youth Alpha, I don’t feel I am worthy of being loved. Just like you did when your parents disappeared leaving you alone. Yes, I guess that’s what I feel – alone and unloved.”
Becca smiled. “Not only do I sing to people in Cafés but I also pray for them too!”
And grasping my hands even tighter she started praying. It was something like this:
“God, You are a loving Father who always forgives and allows us to start again when we go wrong. That’s who You are. I pray Father, that through Your Holy Spirit, You will reveal all that You are to Evie. And all that Jesus has done for her on the Cross. And that when she turns to You in true repentance you will restore to her all you placed within her the day of her conception.”
I should have been so embarrassed. But, as she prayed all I felt was a strange warmth moving through my whole body. That was odd, but I felt different. I felt that something had been broken inside. I felt a new freedom to be the person I was supposed to be. I felt clean, able to start again. I felt almost like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.
“Oh Becca! I want Him to be my Father! I want this relationship that I heard about in Youth Alpha. I remember what we were told about Jesus being our Saviour, the one who made it possible to have a new relationship with God and that God is a Father who loves me. But I don’t know why he loves me, how he can love someone so bad! I really didn’t understand that bit and I still don’t!
*******
In part 2 to be posted next Monday Evie has a vision which changes everything…..
All references are from the NKJV unless specified otherwise.
John Partis
bearing-kingdom-fruit.com
Text copyright © John Partis 2026
John Partis asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
Leave a Reply