Our family lived on Main Street in a small town in Central Texas. Highway 6 took Baylor fans east to A&M to see the two teams as they played football. The next year the Aggie fans drove west to see the Aggies and the Bears engage in a football game.
Sometimes we sat on the front porch and just watched the traffic, large trucks taking farm workers from S. Texas to West Texas. Other times we saw Greyhound or Continental buses drive by loaded with folks, and we wondered what their stories were.
One day there was a knock on the front door. One of my brothers and I ran to see who it was. We left the screen door latched as the man spoke to us. "Tell your momma I am hungry. See if she can give me something to eat." We closed the door and went to give Mama the message.
She spoke to the man and told him to wait. Then she returned with some food and handed it to him. "God bless you," he told her. The man walked off. My brother said, "Did you notice his shoes were held together with baling wire?" I said, "And his hat had a piece taken out of it, like a bite? And his face was dirty. His belt had lots of holes in it like he had to move it over and over to get it to fit." "Maybe he lost weight." My brother added.
Mother spoke to us both, "When you see a person who is hungry, feed him, for it might be Jesus Christ you are feeding." We looked at her. We knew what Jesus looked like for she had pictures on her altar and the Catholic Church had Jesus on a cross. It didn't make sense.
She read our minds. "And Jesus may not look like you think he does. Just remember to feed a person when he asks you for food. You will make Jesus happy."
"Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." Matthew 25:40
(originally published in Lenten Booklet at Parkway Presbyterian Church 3-3-10)
Showing posts with label helping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label helping. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Friday, November 13, 2009
We Are All Everyone
Recently we saw the movie Babel again. A most interesting film about how people from different parts of the world are actually interconnected. Our feelings are so similar, perhaps seen from different perspectives, but so similar, if not identical.
I made some stuffed teddy bears for a shower and kept two for myself. Meanwhile a son went to Uganda to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. When he told me he was staying with a family, a mother and father, four children of their own and four nieces and nephews, I thought of sending a package.
We sent a box with watercolors, activity books, and toys. I saw some space at the very top and added one of the teddy bears. We placed some peanuts and candy in the tiny available spaces .My husband thought of placing a copy of the New York Times for our son to read. We shipped the package off.
My son wrote us a letter in which he described the scene. “I opened the box with all eight children surrounding me. The thought of a package seemed to fascinate them. As I took out each item the children’s eyes grew larger and larger. I distributed the gifts and the father was thrilled to sit and read the New York Times even though the copy was several weeks old."
I remembered as a child when Mother opened a package Grandmother mailed to us. She lived in South Texas while we lived in Central Texas. We circled the kitchen table. The items she sent us could not be found in our part of the state. Pan dulce, for example, by the time it arrived was dried, yet Mother loved it and felt fortunate to get it. Herbs or yerbas, as Mother called them, pleased her. My sister and I received bows with matching feathers for our long black hair. We children and Mother, too, experienced joy and pleasure upon opening those packages.
In Uganda our son ran into a small girl who could not speak or hear. He met her guardians and inquired of the child. They said they were her aunt and uncle and the child couldn’t attend school because of her disability. So she worked cleaning their home. My son investigated further and found a German school for children with disabilities. Yes, they could take her in but she needed a uniform and shoes, something her feet had never experienced. And then there was the matter of the tuition.
He took her to a store where they fitted her for a uniform and shoes. Her eyes, upon wearing the shoes, told the story. How proud she felt of her new shoes, and how strange it must have seemed to cover her feet for the first time in her life.
Her parents invited our son to eat dinner with them. So pleased were they with their daughter’s promising future in an educational setting, that they had to meet the young man and treat him as best they could. Delicious chicken graced their modest table that evening. Thankfulness and graciousness presided in that home that day and perhaps on many other days, also.
Universal feelings. Pleasure in receiving packages. A need. A desire to help. Gratitude. Happiness and hope for a small child. We are all the same. We are all everyone.
I made some stuffed teddy bears for a shower and kept two for myself. Meanwhile a son went to Uganda to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. When he told me he was staying with a family, a mother and father, four children of their own and four nieces and nephews, I thought of sending a package.
We sent a box with watercolors, activity books, and toys. I saw some space at the very top and added one of the teddy bears. We placed some peanuts and candy in the tiny available spaces .My husband thought of placing a copy of the New York Times for our son to read. We shipped the package off.
My son wrote us a letter in which he described the scene. “I opened the box with all eight children surrounding me. The thought of a package seemed to fascinate them. As I took out each item the children’s eyes grew larger and larger. I distributed the gifts and the father was thrilled to sit and read the New York Times even though the copy was several weeks old."
I remembered as a child when Mother opened a package Grandmother mailed to us. She lived in South Texas while we lived in Central Texas. We circled the kitchen table. The items she sent us could not be found in our part of the state. Pan dulce, for example, by the time it arrived was dried, yet Mother loved it and felt fortunate to get it. Herbs or yerbas, as Mother called them, pleased her. My sister and I received bows with matching feathers for our long black hair. We children and Mother, too, experienced joy and pleasure upon opening those packages.
In Uganda our son ran into a small girl who could not speak or hear. He met her guardians and inquired of the child. They said they were her aunt and uncle and the child couldn’t attend school because of her disability. So she worked cleaning their home. My son investigated further and found a German school for children with disabilities. Yes, they could take her in but she needed a uniform and shoes, something her feet had never experienced. And then there was the matter of the tuition.
He took her to a store where they fitted her for a uniform and shoes. Her eyes, upon wearing the shoes, told the story. How proud she felt of her new shoes, and how strange it must have seemed to cover her feet for the first time in her life.
Her parents invited our son to eat dinner with them. So pleased were they with their daughter’s promising future in an educational setting, that they had to meet the young man and treat him as best they could. Delicious chicken graced their modest table that evening. Thankfulness and graciousness presided in that home that day and perhaps on many other days, also.
Universal feelings. Pleasure in receiving packages. A need. A desire to help. Gratitude. Happiness and hope for a small child. We are all the same. We are all everyone.
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