Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits -  Psalms 103:2 

 

I recently ran across this story that I want to share.  ‘They huddled inside the storm door - two children in ragged oversized coats. ‘Any old papers, lady?’  I was busy. I wanted to say no - until I looked down at their feet. Little sandals sopped with sleet. ‘Come in and I’ll make you some hot cocoa.’ There was no conversation. Their soggy sandals left marks on the hearthstone. ‘I served them cocoa with toast and jam to fortify against the chill outside. Then I went back to the kitchen and started again on my household budget. The silence in the front room struck through me. I looked in. The little girl held the empty cup in her hands looking at it. The boy asked, ‘Lady, are you rich?’ I looked at my shabby slipcovers. ‘Am I rich, mercy, no!’ The little girl put the cup in its saucer - carefully. ‘Your cups match your saucers.’ Her voice was old, with a hunger that was not of the stomach. ‘Then they left, holding their bundles of paper against the wind. They hadn’t said thank you. They didn’t need to - they had done more than that. Plain blue pottery cups and saucers, but they matched. Potatoes and brown gravy, a roof over our heads, my man with a good steady job - these things matched, too. I moved the chairs back from the fire and tidied the living room. The muddy prints of small sandals were still wet upon my hearth - I let them be. I want them there in case I ever forget again, how rich I really am.”