I had a very blessed Thanksgiving Day. My mother and father came and ate lunch with us, along with my oldest sister, her husband, daughter, and 4 grandchildren. A total of 14 people in this very small home of mine. The food was good, the conversation better, and the memory the best!
I confess, however, that I often pine about my small home. With two adult children that have had to move back due to unfortunate circumstances, we are a bit crowded. But I love having them around (especially the grandson that one brought with him!). We don’t have a fancy home, a lot of fashionable clothes, a budget for fun activities, or even a nice Christmas account. And sometimes I admit I whine. Then God puts me in my place, just as He did again yesterday.
My sweet husband was on security duty in the children’s building during the late service. The phone rang and, being a phone-junkie, he answered. “First Baptist Church. May I help you?”
“Hello, my name is Joe Kramer.* I was wondering if ya’ll had any type of meal ministry. I am here in town for a couple of days to do a job, staying at the [not-so-nice] hotel, and I am so hungry. I ate at your community meal last week but was wondering if you had anything available today.”
After church, Husband began to tell me about the call. Before he finished telling me what Joe said, I already knew the rest of the story. “So I’ve got his room number here and told him we’d bring him something to eat.” What a precious heart my dear one has — one that quite often puts me to shame.
We purchased enough “chicken and fixin’s” for two meals and drove over to the hotel. Joe told us his room would be the one with the door cracked open. Without going into detail, I watched my nicely-dressed husband shake hands with the oppositely-dressed Joe, hand him the bags of food, and then pause to listen for a while. If he said it once, Joe said it a dozen times, “Thank you so much. You just don’t know…”
As Husband climbed back in the car and closed his door, I quietly (and ashamedly) said, “We are truly blessed.” He smiled and we went on our way in silence.
“Lord, forgive me for my periods of whining. I have a warm house, clean clothes to wear, more than enough food to eat, and a wonderful, caring, loving husband. Thank you, Lord, for I am richly blessed.”
“We’re not poor; we just don’t have any money.
There is a difference, you know.”
(Leslie Crowson, my father)
