Luke 1:47-55

Sandra Ferrell

It's a dirty job! (But someone has to do it) he muttered to himself in a disgruntled tone as he drove the truck onto the muddy plot of land. Shoving the power company's official vehicle into park he turned his eyes toward the small dilapidated cabin sitting on the hillside in front of him. Feeling the bitter December wind howling down the mountainside he noticed the absence of any smoke from the chimney atop the house. Sighing, he descended from his perch inside the warm truck and stepped out into the mist and mud, making his way toward a task he dreaded performing. Sometimes he really hated having to turn off the power of non--paying customers. Some of the things he saw - people he just knew would huddle freezing and hungry under the few blankets they owned within mere minutes of his departure. From all appearances, this would be one of those places.

A few minutes later, driving away from the cabin, he tried to figure out exactly the moment he realized that he couldn't do it. Was it when he saw the woman's black eye and other bruises? Or had the bare little feet of the three emaciated preschoolers clutching at her legs convinced him? He recalled the sight of that small electric space heater struggling noisily but unsuccessfully to warm the sparsely furnished room. That must have been the straw that broke the camel's back he concluded. Only now, he faced an even larger problem. Job security was non-existent for employees who refused to carry out their orders. What in the world was he going to do?

His stomach's noisy protests reminded him of a forgotten lunch break so he pulled into the Pizza Palace. Dashing through the moisture-turned-downpour he entered and stood at the counter hungrily inhaling the fragrance of fresh baked tomato sauce and cheese. Pondering how much damage he could do to a large meat lovers with extra cheese he recalled the pinched faces of those hungry children. Tugging his wallet form his back pocket he counted out the bills and hastily ordered three of those gigantic cholesterol laden babies. After all, how could any self-respecting man fill his own belly while knowing of little ones who would likely go to bed hungry? It was the least he could do.

The oldest child, a boy about five years old, answered his knock this time. He stepped into the room and presented the pizza as their lunch. When the opened boxes revealed their culinary treasures the 3 year old snatched at the hot slices of pie with both hands, cramming food into his mouth as fast as his little mouth would allow. The toddler stood at the table reaching upwards crying Amine... as her eyes filled with tears. Solemnly the big brother doled out a slice for each sibling, along with one for his mother and himself. Then advising the others to "keep the secret" he closed the boxes and proceeded to hide them underneath the bedraggled sofa. "'Why are you doing that?" the astounded man inquired. "Because if we eat it all now, there won't be any tomorrows came the boy's response. And if daddy comes in and finds it, he will eat it all himself."

Oh God, what can man to do when in the midst of such abject need? Driving away from that cabin for the second time that day Tom knew what he had to do. These folks needed help. As navigated his way by the little white framed church he recalled the lady who lived next door. Sometimes on extremely cold days, she offered him hot coffee as he passed through reading her meter. One day, while he sat sipping in her kitchen, she'd told him a little about her church next door. According to her they were a soft-hearted bunch. Their offerings each week included food they passed on to the local shelters. Every Christmas they sought out a needy family to embrace with their giving arms and spirits. "That's it!" he shouted aloud to himself. "They can help these folks!" Swinging the truck abruptly about face he barreled back down the road to Miz Essie's house. When she heard his story her eyes grew wet and she grabbed her coat while asking him to show her the way to the family who had touched his heart.

The rest of the story, as he heard it across the kitchen table of Miz Essie and her pot of hot java, tempted his eyes to moisture. After a couple of hours listening to the poor woman, Miz Esie persuaded her to accept transportation to a local shelter. Over a period of weeks that grew into months the little church helped provide shelter, job, and transportation to work for the mother until she managed to scrap together enough money to purchase a small car. A couple of ladies in the church even watched the kids from time to time. The pastor went to court with the mother to lend her moral support. One small country church had done great things! They'd just wrapped their arms around this family and embraced them with some good old fashioned neighborly love. And they all blossomed! During that Advent season this congregation truly conceived and gave birth to the love of God in their midst. And one no longer overwhelmed mother was overheard in an Advent worship service reading along with Mary's Magnificat in a tremulous but happy voice "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name."