“The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.” Psalm 34:17 (KJV)In L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, I love the character, Matthew Cuthbert. A shy man, he comfortably spoke with his sister, Marilla, and his neighbor, Mrs. Rachel Lynde, without blushing. Tonight, in Bright River, sixty-year-old Matthew waited at the train station for a little orphan boy from the asylum in Nova Scotia. He and Marilla didn’t have children to help with chores, and with his heart troubles, Matthew could use the help. The last thing Matthew expected was Anne Shirley waiting for him. “The unfortunate Matthew was left to do that which was harder for him than bearding a lion in its den—walk up to a girl—a strange girl—an orphan girl—and demand of her why she wasn’t a boy. Matthew groaned in spirit as he turned about and shuffled gently down the platform towards her.”
Matthew had taken the scrawny little hand awkwardly in his; then and there he decided what to do. He could not tell this child with the glowing eyes that there had been a mistake; he would take her home and let Marilla do that. She couldn’t be left at Bright River anyhow, no matter what mistake had been made, so all questions and explanations might as well be deferred until he was safely back at Green Gables.
“I’m sorry I was late,” he said shyly. “Come along. The horse is over in the yard. Give me your bag.”
“Oh, I can carry it,” the child responded cheerfully. “It isn’t heavy. I’ve got all my worldly goods in it, but it isn’t heavy. And if it isn’t carried in just a certain way the handle pulls out—so I’d better keep it because I know the exact knack of it. It’s an extremely old carpet-bag. Oh, I’m very glad you’ve come, even if it would have been nice to sleep in a wild cherry-tree. We’ve got to drive a long piece, haven’t we? Mrs. Spencer said it was eight miles. I’m glad because I love driving. Oh, it seems so wonderful that I’m going to live with you and belong to you.
As he held onto Anne’s tiny hand, Matthew couldn’t possibly tell the little urchin that he would send her back or return her like something discarded or unwanted. “Matthew, much to his own surprise, was enjoying himself. Like most quiet folks he liked talkative people when they were willing to do the talking themselves and did not expect him to keep up his end of it. But he had never expected to enjoy the society of a little girl.” “Oh, you can talk as much as you like. I don’t mind.” Matthew “kind of liked” her chatter.” Like Matthew, God is an excellent listener. He listened to the young shepherd boy, David, who led his flock of sheep to greener pastures and water. With no one to talk to except the Good Father, David poured out his heart, shared his burdens, and praised and worshipped the Great Shepherd without holding back. Like Matthew and Anne sharing sweet fellowship on a carriage ride back home, God and David spent quality time together in a meaningful friendship that lasted. No detail is too small for God. He listens. Our heavenly Father loves our prayers and the sound of our voices. We are never alone with God. He is the best listener we can imagine—a Good Father who cares about us and loves us enough not to tire of hearing our concerns, prayers, and songs. We don’t need to keep our burdens inside. Like Matthew Cuthbert, God likes talkative people willing to share what is on their hearts with Him.
