Celebrating The Bounty Of God
Stories
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Contents
"Celebrating the Bounty of God" by Sandra Herrmann
"Rejoice in the Lord!" by Sandra Herrmann
"Food for the Soul" by Keith Wagner
"The Spirit of Thanksgiving" by Keith Wagner
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Celebrating the Bounty of God
by Sandra Herrmann
Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Ramona was tired. She had hoped to get out of work early tonight, so of course there was a last-minute phone call to deal with. A half hour phone call she couldn't help with anyway. She took the woman's number and promised to call her back tomorrow. So now she was rushing to her car, trying to run between the cold raindrops pelting her neck. Once in her car, she turned the key, and turned on the heater and radio and sat there, letting the heat and music relax her.
"Oh, Lord, I'm just too tired tonight for another church meeting," she muttered, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "I need some time to myself!" Even so, she put the car in gear and headed home, knowing her eldest daughter would have the table set, and if she were lucky, even have started the hamburger for tacos.
She walked into a kitchen redolent of chilies. Yanci had grated the cheese, chopped some lettuce, and had the meat all seasoned and ready to go. Ramona gave her daughter a grateful hug, who grinned at her mother in return.
"I remembered that you have to go to church tonight," she said. "I cooked, and Diego helped by setting the table!" She nodded toward her ten-year-old brother, who was now watching the small TV set on the counter. He looked up and grinned back at his mother and big sister. Six-year-old Nelli was sitting at the computer station, never turning away from the alphabet game she was playing.
As Ramona put her coat back on, Yanci promised to get her brother and sister ready for bed before their father came home from work. "Pappi will read the bedtime stories tonight and put them to bed so you can get right on to your homework," she said, stroking her daughter's face.
The meeting was already underway when she arrived. The pastor looked up as she walked in. "Ramona! Just the person we need to be here!"
"Hello, everyone," she said, "what can I do for you?"
"We have been talking about our Thanksgiving Meal Project, and we want to get the names of some people who could use some help with food for the holidays. The local food pantry will give us whatever canned and packaged goods they need. They can help with up to twenty families with the supplies they have. So, can we count on you to come up with the names?"
Ramona sat quietly for one long minute. Finally, she folded her hands on the table and leaned in. "Are you asking me for the names of Latino families in need?" she asked.
Everyone looked a little ill at ease. There was some shifting of bodies and nervous glances around the circle. Finally, the pastor said, "Is that a problem for you Ramona?"
Ramona looked the pastor in the eye and cleared her throat. "Pastor, I think everyone here means well." She looked around at the others at the table. "But you have to understand, Latino families don't like to ask for help."
Someone snorted, but covered it with a feigned cough. Ramona looked down again. Finally, she started talking, still slowly, but with fierceness. "No matter what you think, most Latinos don't like to ask for help. We will eat beans and rice and tortillas, because that's what we're used to anyway. We do not wish to bring shame on our families. Our children may not be rich but they are loved and cared for and we don't want others to look at them in pity.
"Aside from the shame this charity could bring on these families, there is also the question of our customs, which are not the same as your customs. If we cannot afford the rent, we will take in relatives, who can help pay the rent, even if the house is crowded. Everyone who has work contributes to the common purse so we all eat.
"Besides these considerations, there is the question of the foods the food pantry has available. Many of the vegetables are not familiar to our children, and they will not eat them. They are not used to the kind of bread you eat, and they have never had turkey or cranberry sauce." She looked around at the unbelieving faces staring at her. "No one will take the courage to tell you all of this, for fear of seeming ungrateful."
Silence reigned. She looked back at her hands and most of her church friends looked at theirs too. At long last the pastor stirred, cleared her throat, and said, "So what can we do?"
Ramona shook her head. "I don't know. Give me some time to think."
The meeting broke up and several of the people came over and gave her hugs. When everyone else had gone, the pastor came over and put a hand on Ramona's arm.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "You are probably the only one who could have told us the truth. I have no idea what it cost you, but you helped every one of us."
When Ramona got home, she was more tired than she could ever remember being. When she walked into the kitchen, Yanci was working on her geometry. Ramona bent over her daughter, but Yanci shrugged her off.
"Mama, I'm having a hard time with this. Don't interfere with my train of thought!" Ramona stood up and sighed as she hung her coat on the hook by the door and went to the family room.
"Hi there, Chiquita," her husband greeted her as she fell onto the couch next to him. "You look tired." Ramona sighed and snuggled against his side.
As they climbed into bed, Ramona told Marco about the meeting. "So what are you going to tell them?" he asked.
"I don't know."
The next night, at dinner, Marco brought up the dilemma. "So what do you children think we should do?"
"I think we should have a big family dinner," Diego said, his mouth full of enchilada. Ramona frowned at him, shaking her head as rice sprayed from his half open mouth. He swallowed the mouthful and protested. "What? Everybody likes a family dinner! Enchiladas mole, tamales, tacos, black beans and corn, Pastel de Tres Leches..." He stalled as everyone burst into laughter. "What?" he repeated.
Nelli shouted, "You have the whole menu planned!"
"No I don't," Diego whined, "I didn't get to the flan yet, or the arroz con leche, or..."
It took several minutes of laughter and more menu items before they all settled down. But then Marco said, "You know, Ramona, this idea could work. We could call up a few families, ask them to help with the cooking, and the setting up, and the clean up, so it won't be charity. The food pantry can donate the rice and milk and flour and so on, and the church could help by cooking a couple of turkeys. No reason we can't use turkey instead of chicken in the enchiladas," he finished with a grin.
Ramona wasn't sure, but when she called the pastor, she was excited. The committee started work on getting the word out to the congregation. Thanksgiving invitations were sent to all the singles and elderly of the congregation as well as those Ramona sent out. Altogether, they had 175 people at the tables. Some came early to cook and left early to see relatives. Some came later and stayed to clean up. Some came late and left as soon as they had eaten. But everyone had a wonderful time and agreed that it was so good to have all those people with which to celebrate!
Rejoice in the Lord!
by Sandra Herrmann
Philippians 4:4-9
"I hate the holidays! It's just crass, the way the stores start in, putting up Christmas trees November 1st. And now they're starting pre-Christmas sales Thanksgiving morning, thank you!"
"I know! And all the pressure to be Martha Stewart and Rachel Ray rolled into one! I'm so tired of cookie swaps and craft sales, and it's not even December yet!"
The two women clacked away down the main aisle of the mall, still shaking their heads and complaining. Mary laughed inside herself. She was certainly no Martha Stewart, but then she and her family didn't need much to make the house ready for the holidays. No gold balls in a bowl. The dogs would have them out in an instant, chasing them around the house like so many soccer balls. No ribbons trailing from the mantelpiece; they actually used their fireplace. What a concept! She laughed to herself.
Mary swung her head around, and her body followed, as though she were dancing down the mall. She caught herself; people would think she was crazy. But the decorations were so pretty -- a huge tree was in the center court, and workers were stringing lights and hanging huge white snowflakes on the artificial branches. She loved coming early in the season to watch the construction of the veritable fairyland that each year took her out of the anxiety of finding the "right" gifts at a price she could afford. Since they weren't for sale, there was no temptation to spend money she didn't have.
This year especially, there was very little money to spend. She had lost her job because she had had to take off too many days to take Amanda to the doctor or hospital. Amanda, her only daughter, was six now but with the mental capacity of a toddler, and one problem after another -- first, her lungs weren't strong, and she had developed pneumonia three times this year; then, her heart started slowing down and speeding up without warning. She had collapsed in the therapy department, and they immediately sent her upstairs to intensive care, where they did a dozen tests before they told her Amanda's heart was damaged by her inability to breathe well. So she wound up on a ventilator. More expense, more time off to be home when the technician came to the house to show them how to check the settings on the vent, and again when the visiting nurse called to say that Amanda looked a little blue to her.
Mary shook her head again, breaking up that image in her mind. Her supervisor at work was truly sorry. Yes, he knew that Mary had a Special Needs Child (you could hear the capital letters as he said it), but after all, they were running a business, not a charity. He was very [not, Mary added] sorry, but if she couldn't arrange for better care for her child, they would have to let her go. So when Amanda wound up in the hospital again, she had been terminated. She was entitled to Cobra her insurance for a year, and she was seeing to it that that got paid, because she for sure could not afford the medical bills!
Andy, her husband, had held her close as she sobbed out her frustration and assured her they would be all right for a while without her job. But a month later his company laid off 300 people, which included him. He had gone right out and signed up with a temp service for professionals, but they didn't provide benefits, and the pay was half of what he had been getting. So no new "décor items" this year -- though she had seen a pattern for a gingerbread house in Martha Stewart Living magazine, and she had asked the boys (Shaun, 10 and Robbie, 8) if they would like to do that as a family project, and they had been quite enthusiastic. It would be something different, and she had most of the ingredients in the pantry.
She had been so deep in thought with this planning that she bumped right into a woman exiting a store with a Christmas shopping bag in her hand. The bag dropped from her hand and smacked the floor.
"Oh, dear," Mary said, "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Did anything in your bag break?" She wished immediately that she hadn't brought up the possibility of breakage. She couldn't afford to pay the woman if anything was broken. But the woman shook her head.
"No, dear, there's nothing in there but a few books. I guess I wasn't holding on tightly enough." She smiled and picked up the bag again. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Mary smiled ruefully. At least she wasn't going to wind up paying for any breakage. And as she thought that, she just burst into tears.
The woman she had run into stood there for a moment, and then put down her bag and wrapped her arms around Mary. "There, there, sweetheart. Christmas is a pain for most of us. You'll get through it, you'll see. Don't let anything worry you." And with other motherly words, she tried to comfort Mary.
Finally, with a few loud sniffs, Mary got her tears under control. "I'm so embarrassed. I don't know what got into me. I'm not one of those who hate the holidays. But this year it's just too difficult. I have this daughter who's been so sick, and everything has just gotten to be too much. But we'll be just fine, I know this. I'm sorry. I've taken up your time. Thank you for being so kind...."
"Nonsense. You haven't taken any time I couldn't spare," the woman smiled. "We all need someone to listen from time to time. I know how hard it must be to care for your daughter. I lost my husband this past spring after a long illness. It was exhausting to have him so sick for so long. I was so worn out that when he died I couldn't even cry. And then one day the dam broke, and I cried and cried for days. That's just the way things happen sometimes." As Mary was drying her eyes and blowing her nose, the woman watched her. "All cried out for now?"
Mary nodded. "Thank you. I don't know how to thank you for those words. Sometimes I think no one can understand how it feels to have a broken child. They try to be nice, but I think they're just pretending to understand."
The woman nodded in return. "No one can understand until they've been there, dear. We just have to let that thought go and remember that they mean well. They may not know what to say, but they see our pain, and that's what you have to hold on to."
"Yes," Mary said, "we have a lot of people who pray for our family regularly, and really that keeps us going." She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "Thank you. It was so nice running into you!"
The two women hugged each other, a good, long, firm hug. At last, the stranger smiled as she pulled away. "May the Peace of God be yours, dear."
Mary's eyes lit up. "And with you!" And with those words, the women parted. Mary's step was a bit lighter, and her smile was restored. Her heart was filled with joy as she thanked God that she had run into a lovely woman who had understood her pain.
Sandra Herrmann is a retired United Methodist pastor living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Food for the Soul
by Keith Wagner
John 6:25-35
One time my wife and I had lunch at Thurman's in German Village in Columbus. They are known for their specialty hamburgers. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger. When our waiter brought our meals to us I couldn't believe how huge the burger was. It must have stood five inches high on my plate. The waiter said it had three fourths of a pound of hamburger in it. It tasted wonderful and although we had to wait about 30 minutes it was worth the wait.
That sandwich was the same as three quarter pounders at McDonalds. My stomach was so full I could barely walk and I couldn't eat for two days. But eventually I became hungry again and by Sunday evening I was ready for a chicken dinner. We can't live without food and we Americans really enjoy a quality meal. However, whether we dine at a four-star restaurant or some fast food place, we eventually get hungry again because we are never satisfied.
We need to eat to survive, but here in John, Jesus is telling the people by the Sea of Galilee something quite different. He was saying that while food may fill their stomachs it will never fill their souls. He had just fed 5,000 folks with five loaves of bread and two fish. However, they were still hungry and followed after him. Jesus had satisfied their hunger for food but now he tells them what they really need is food for their souls.
I believe that Jesus was teaching his listeners that God can supply all our needs. He wants us to desire food for the soul just as we desire food for our stomachs. Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." What does Jesus mean by bread of life? How can he satisfy our hunger and our thirst?
In the film, Chocolat, Vianne Rocher and her six-year-old daughter moved to a small village in southern France, near Toulouse. She opened a chocolate shop across from the church, just as the town was preparing to observe Lent. The parish priest was horrified, especially since Vianne kept her tempting chocolate shop open on Sundays. But in time, the arrival of the mother/daughter team and their chocolate shop transformed the narrow minded community and brought them together. On the surface it appeared that the wonderful taste of chocolate had made a difference, but it was really the grace and love of Vianne and her daughter that helped to transform an entire community.
To understand Jesus as the Bread of Life means we live in the grace of God. And just as there are times when we have to wait on food, we have to wait on God.
Our favorite restaurant is Max and Erma's. Our family has met for years at the one in North Dayton. One Christmas season we took our grandchildren to see the Nutcracker. Following the performance we decided to eat at Max and Erma's. But it was busy and we had to wait an hour before we could be seated. The grandkids were getting hungry and finally they cleared a table for our group of six. At the end of the meal the manager came over to our table and said, "The meal is on me, sorry you had to wait."
That dinner was just like the manna in the wilderness. Just as God provided for the Israelites, God provided for us that December evening.
I probably should have passed on that cheeseburger. It seems that whenever I indulge in fattening food I feel guilty. Although a low-carb, fat free, diet would be good for me that wasn't what Jesus was promoting. To receive the "Bread of Life" also means to receive the forgiveness Jesus gives.
One time there was a family who had a rule that everyone was to be present for the evening meal. One day, one of the youth was playing with his friends and lost track of time. When he arrived home his family was already seated at the dinner table, eating their dinner. The youth's father told him to sit down and watch the rest of his family eat. The youth sat there in complete silence salivating at the site of the food on the table. After a few minutes his father said, "Do you understand why you aren't receiving any food?" The youth said he understood what his father meant. Then, surprising to the family, his father set his own plate in front of the youth and told him to eat. His father forgave his son and in the process he sacrificed his own dinner.
The Spirit of Thanksgiving
by Keith Wagner
Psalm 100
Greg Anderson, in Living Life on Purpose, tells a story about a man whose wife had left him. He was completely depressed. He had lost faith in himself, in other people, and in God. Therefore he found no joy in living. One rainy morning this man went to a small neighborhood restaurant for breakfast. Although several people were at the diner, no one was speaking to anyone else. The man hunched over the counter, stirring his coffee with a spoon.
In one of the small booths along the window was a young mother with a little girl. They had just been served their food when the little girl broke the sad silence by almost shouting, "Momma, why don't we say our prayers here?" The waitress who had just served their breakfast turned around and said, "Sure, honey, we pray here. Will you say the prayer for us?" And she turned and looked at the rest of the people in the restaurant and said, "Bow your heads." Surprisingly, one by one, the heads went down. The little girl then bowed her head, folded her hands, and said, "God is great, God is good, and we thank him for our food. Amen."
That prayer changed the entire atmosphere. People began to talk with one another. The waitress said, "We should do that every morning."
"All of a sudden," said the man, "my whole frame of mind started to improve. From that little girl's example, I started to thank God for all that I did have and stopped thinking about all that I didn't have. I started to be grateful."
The little girl's prayer injected a spirit of thanksgiving into the lives around her because she gave her whole hearted devotion for what she had received.
"Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him, bless his holy name!" The psalm reminds us to be grateful to God for all God has done for us. Not just for putting food on the table but for God's never ending love and grace.
Cheerfully and with a spirit of gratitude the Israelites praised God in the temple for all God had provided. Like the man whose life changed because of the little girl's prayer may we be joyful and express our gratitude with songs of praise.
This week we will celebrate Thanksgiving. Families and friends will gather around the table, sharing things for which they are thankful. It is an American tradition, one that has been practiced since the year 1621. What is extraordinary to me is how the pilgrims could be thankful since their situation was tragic and hopeless. Half of the colony had perished. Only 5 of 18 wives survived. Only one family was left intact. To make things worse they were not experienced in farming and their governor, John Carver, died of sunstroke. In spite of their difficulties they made peace with the Indians. And with their help they put together a great feast. In the midst of a crisis they gave thanks.
There would still be hard times ahead for the pilgrims. But they had hope and it was appropriate for them to give thanks. Their attitude of gratitude enabled them to endure. Their "spirit of thanksgiving" gave them the courage and faith to push forward.
Rev. Dr. Keith Wagner is the pastor of St. John's UCC in Troy, Ohio. He and his wife, Lin, live in Springfield, Ohio.
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StoryShare, November 28, 2013, issue.
Copyright 2013 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"Celebrating the Bounty of God" by Sandra Herrmann
"Rejoice in the Lord!" by Sandra Herrmann
"Food for the Soul" by Keith Wagner
"The Spirit of Thanksgiving" by Keith Wagner
* * * * * * *
Celebrating the Bounty of God
by Sandra Herrmann
Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Ramona was tired. She had hoped to get out of work early tonight, so of course there was a last-minute phone call to deal with. A half hour phone call she couldn't help with anyway. She took the woman's number and promised to call her back tomorrow. So now she was rushing to her car, trying to run between the cold raindrops pelting her neck. Once in her car, she turned the key, and turned on the heater and radio and sat there, letting the heat and music relax her.
"Oh, Lord, I'm just too tired tonight for another church meeting," she muttered, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "I need some time to myself!" Even so, she put the car in gear and headed home, knowing her eldest daughter would have the table set, and if she were lucky, even have started the hamburger for tacos.
She walked into a kitchen redolent of chilies. Yanci had grated the cheese, chopped some lettuce, and had the meat all seasoned and ready to go. Ramona gave her daughter a grateful hug, who grinned at her mother in return.
"I remembered that you have to go to church tonight," she said. "I cooked, and Diego helped by setting the table!" She nodded toward her ten-year-old brother, who was now watching the small TV set on the counter. He looked up and grinned back at his mother and big sister. Six-year-old Nelli was sitting at the computer station, never turning away from the alphabet game she was playing.
As Ramona put her coat back on, Yanci promised to get her brother and sister ready for bed before their father came home from work. "Pappi will read the bedtime stories tonight and put them to bed so you can get right on to your homework," she said, stroking her daughter's face.
The meeting was already underway when she arrived. The pastor looked up as she walked in. "Ramona! Just the person we need to be here!"
"Hello, everyone," she said, "what can I do for you?"
"We have been talking about our Thanksgiving Meal Project, and we want to get the names of some people who could use some help with food for the holidays. The local food pantry will give us whatever canned and packaged goods they need. They can help with up to twenty families with the supplies they have. So, can we count on you to come up with the names?"
Ramona sat quietly for one long minute. Finally, she folded her hands on the table and leaned in. "Are you asking me for the names of Latino families in need?" she asked.
Everyone looked a little ill at ease. There was some shifting of bodies and nervous glances around the circle. Finally, the pastor said, "Is that a problem for you Ramona?"
Ramona looked the pastor in the eye and cleared her throat. "Pastor, I think everyone here means well." She looked around at the others at the table. "But you have to understand, Latino families don't like to ask for help."
Someone snorted, but covered it with a feigned cough. Ramona looked down again. Finally, she started talking, still slowly, but with fierceness. "No matter what you think, most Latinos don't like to ask for help. We will eat beans and rice and tortillas, because that's what we're used to anyway. We do not wish to bring shame on our families. Our children may not be rich but they are loved and cared for and we don't want others to look at them in pity.
"Aside from the shame this charity could bring on these families, there is also the question of our customs, which are not the same as your customs. If we cannot afford the rent, we will take in relatives, who can help pay the rent, even if the house is crowded. Everyone who has work contributes to the common purse so we all eat.
"Besides these considerations, there is the question of the foods the food pantry has available. Many of the vegetables are not familiar to our children, and they will not eat them. They are not used to the kind of bread you eat, and they have never had turkey or cranberry sauce." She looked around at the unbelieving faces staring at her. "No one will take the courage to tell you all of this, for fear of seeming ungrateful."
Silence reigned. She looked back at her hands and most of her church friends looked at theirs too. At long last the pastor stirred, cleared her throat, and said, "So what can we do?"
Ramona shook her head. "I don't know. Give me some time to think."
The meeting broke up and several of the people came over and gave her hugs. When everyone else had gone, the pastor came over and put a hand on Ramona's arm.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "You are probably the only one who could have told us the truth. I have no idea what it cost you, but you helped every one of us."
When Ramona got home, she was more tired than she could ever remember being. When she walked into the kitchen, Yanci was working on her geometry. Ramona bent over her daughter, but Yanci shrugged her off.
"Mama, I'm having a hard time with this. Don't interfere with my train of thought!" Ramona stood up and sighed as she hung her coat on the hook by the door and went to the family room.
"Hi there, Chiquita," her husband greeted her as she fell onto the couch next to him. "You look tired." Ramona sighed and snuggled against his side.
As they climbed into bed, Ramona told Marco about the meeting. "So what are you going to tell them?" he asked.
"I don't know."
The next night, at dinner, Marco brought up the dilemma. "So what do you children think we should do?"
"I think we should have a big family dinner," Diego said, his mouth full of enchilada. Ramona frowned at him, shaking her head as rice sprayed from his half open mouth. He swallowed the mouthful and protested. "What? Everybody likes a family dinner! Enchiladas mole, tamales, tacos, black beans and corn, Pastel de Tres Leches..." He stalled as everyone burst into laughter. "What?" he repeated.
Nelli shouted, "You have the whole menu planned!"
"No I don't," Diego whined, "I didn't get to the flan yet, or the arroz con leche, or..."
It took several minutes of laughter and more menu items before they all settled down. But then Marco said, "You know, Ramona, this idea could work. We could call up a few families, ask them to help with the cooking, and the setting up, and the clean up, so it won't be charity. The food pantry can donate the rice and milk and flour and so on, and the church could help by cooking a couple of turkeys. No reason we can't use turkey instead of chicken in the enchiladas," he finished with a grin.
Ramona wasn't sure, but when she called the pastor, she was excited. The committee started work on getting the word out to the congregation. Thanksgiving invitations were sent to all the singles and elderly of the congregation as well as those Ramona sent out. Altogether, they had 175 people at the tables. Some came early to cook and left early to see relatives. Some came later and stayed to clean up. Some came late and left as soon as they had eaten. But everyone had a wonderful time and agreed that it was so good to have all those people with which to celebrate!
Rejoice in the Lord!
by Sandra Herrmann
Philippians 4:4-9
"I hate the holidays! It's just crass, the way the stores start in, putting up Christmas trees November 1st. And now they're starting pre-Christmas sales Thanksgiving morning, thank you!"
"I know! And all the pressure to be Martha Stewart and Rachel Ray rolled into one! I'm so tired of cookie swaps and craft sales, and it's not even December yet!"
The two women clacked away down the main aisle of the mall, still shaking their heads and complaining. Mary laughed inside herself. She was certainly no Martha Stewart, but then she and her family didn't need much to make the house ready for the holidays. No gold balls in a bowl. The dogs would have them out in an instant, chasing them around the house like so many soccer balls. No ribbons trailing from the mantelpiece; they actually used their fireplace. What a concept! She laughed to herself.
Mary swung her head around, and her body followed, as though she were dancing down the mall. She caught herself; people would think she was crazy. But the decorations were so pretty -- a huge tree was in the center court, and workers were stringing lights and hanging huge white snowflakes on the artificial branches. She loved coming early in the season to watch the construction of the veritable fairyland that each year took her out of the anxiety of finding the "right" gifts at a price she could afford. Since they weren't for sale, there was no temptation to spend money she didn't have.
This year especially, there was very little money to spend. She had lost her job because she had had to take off too many days to take Amanda to the doctor or hospital. Amanda, her only daughter, was six now but with the mental capacity of a toddler, and one problem after another -- first, her lungs weren't strong, and she had developed pneumonia three times this year; then, her heart started slowing down and speeding up without warning. She had collapsed in the therapy department, and they immediately sent her upstairs to intensive care, where they did a dozen tests before they told her Amanda's heart was damaged by her inability to breathe well. So she wound up on a ventilator. More expense, more time off to be home when the technician came to the house to show them how to check the settings on the vent, and again when the visiting nurse called to say that Amanda looked a little blue to her.
Mary shook her head again, breaking up that image in her mind. Her supervisor at work was truly sorry. Yes, he knew that Mary had a Special Needs Child (you could hear the capital letters as he said it), but after all, they were running a business, not a charity. He was very [not, Mary added] sorry, but if she couldn't arrange for better care for her child, they would have to let her go. So when Amanda wound up in the hospital again, she had been terminated. She was entitled to Cobra her insurance for a year, and she was seeing to it that that got paid, because she for sure could not afford the medical bills!
Andy, her husband, had held her close as she sobbed out her frustration and assured her they would be all right for a while without her job. But a month later his company laid off 300 people, which included him. He had gone right out and signed up with a temp service for professionals, but they didn't provide benefits, and the pay was half of what he had been getting. So no new "décor items" this year -- though she had seen a pattern for a gingerbread house in Martha Stewart Living magazine, and she had asked the boys (Shaun, 10 and Robbie, 8) if they would like to do that as a family project, and they had been quite enthusiastic. It would be something different, and she had most of the ingredients in the pantry.
She had been so deep in thought with this planning that she bumped right into a woman exiting a store with a Christmas shopping bag in her hand. The bag dropped from her hand and smacked the floor.
"Oh, dear," Mary said, "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Did anything in your bag break?" She wished immediately that she hadn't brought up the possibility of breakage. She couldn't afford to pay the woman if anything was broken. But the woman shook her head.
"No, dear, there's nothing in there but a few books. I guess I wasn't holding on tightly enough." She smiled and picked up the bag again. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine," Mary smiled ruefully. At least she wasn't going to wind up paying for any breakage. And as she thought that, she just burst into tears.
The woman she had run into stood there for a moment, and then put down her bag and wrapped her arms around Mary. "There, there, sweetheart. Christmas is a pain for most of us. You'll get through it, you'll see. Don't let anything worry you." And with other motherly words, she tried to comfort Mary.
Finally, with a few loud sniffs, Mary got her tears under control. "I'm so embarrassed. I don't know what got into me. I'm not one of those who hate the holidays. But this year it's just too difficult. I have this daughter who's been so sick, and everything has just gotten to be too much. But we'll be just fine, I know this. I'm sorry. I've taken up your time. Thank you for being so kind...."
"Nonsense. You haven't taken any time I couldn't spare," the woman smiled. "We all need someone to listen from time to time. I know how hard it must be to care for your daughter. I lost my husband this past spring after a long illness. It was exhausting to have him so sick for so long. I was so worn out that when he died I couldn't even cry. And then one day the dam broke, and I cried and cried for days. That's just the way things happen sometimes." As Mary was drying her eyes and blowing her nose, the woman watched her. "All cried out for now?"
Mary nodded. "Thank you. I don't know how to thank you for those words. Sometimes I think no one can understand how it feels to have a broken child. They try to be nice, but I think they're just pretending to understand."
The woman nodded in return. "No one can understand until they've been there, dear. We just have to let that thought go and remember that they mean well. They may not know what to say, but they see our pain, and that's what you have to hold on to."
"Yes," Mary said, "we have a lot of people who pray for our family regularly, and really that keeps us going." She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "Thank you. It was so nice running into you!"
The two women hugged each other, a good, long, firm hug. At last, the stranger smiled as she pulled away. "May the Peace of God be yours, dear."
Mary's eyes lit up. "And with you!" And with those words, the women parted. Mary's step was a bit lighter, and her smile was restored. Her heart was filled with joy as she thanked God that she had run into a lovely woman who had understood her pain.
Sandra Herrmann is a retired United Methodist pastor living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Food for the Soul
by Keith Wagner
John 6:25-35
One time my wife and I had lunch at Thurman's in German Village in Columbus. They are known for their specialty hamburgers. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger. When our waiter brought our meals to us I couldn't believe how huge the burger was. It must have stood five inches high on my plate. The waiter said it had three fourths of a pound of hamburger in it. It tasted wonderful and although we had to wait about 30 minutes it was worth the wait.
That sandwich was the same as three quarter pounders at McDonalds. My stomach was so full I could barely walk and I couldn't eat for two days. But eventually I became hungry again and by Sunday evening I was ready for a chicken dinner. We can't live without food and we Americans really enjoy a quality meal. However, whether we dine at a four-star restaurant or some fast food place, we eventually get hungry again because we are never satisfied.
We need to eat to survive, but here in John, Jesus is telling the people by the Sea of Galilee something quite different. He was saying that while food may fill their stomachs it will never fill their souls. He had just fed 5,000 folks with five loaves of bread and two fish. However, they were still hungry and followed after him. Jesus had satisfied their hunger for food but now he tells them what they really need is food for their souls.
I believe that Jesus was teaching his listeners that God can supply all our needs. He wants us to desire food for the soul just as we desire food for our stomachs. Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." What does Jesus mean by bread of life? How can he satisfy our hunger and our thirst?
In the film, Chocolat, Vianne Rocher and her six-year-old daughter moved to a small village in southern France, near Toulouse. She opened a chocolate shop across from the church, just as the town was preparing to observe Lent. The parish priest was horrified, especially since Vianne kept her tempting chocolate shop open on Sundays. But in time, the arrival of the mother/daughter team and their chocolate shop transformed the narrow minded community and brought them together. On the surface it appeared that the wonderful taste of chocolate had made a difference, but it was really the grace and love of Vianne and her daughter that helped to transform an entire community.
To understand Jesus as the Bread of Life means we live in the grace of God. And just as there are times when we have to wait on food, we have to wait on God.
Our favorite restaurant is Max and Erma's. Our family has met for years at the one in North Dayton. One Christmas season we took our grandchildren to see the Nutcracker. Following the performance we decided to eat at Max and Erma's. But it was busy and we had to wait an hour before we could be seated. The grandkids were getting hungry and finally they cleared a table for our group of six. At the end of the meal the manager came over to our table and said, "The meal is on me, sorry you had to wait."
That dinner was just like the manna in the wilderness. Just as God provided for the Israelites, God provided for us that December evening.
I probably should have passed on that cheeseburger. It seems that whenever I indulge in fattening food I feel guilty. Although a low-carb, fat free, diet would be good for me that wasn't what Jesus was promoting. To receive the "Bread of Life" also means to receive the forgiveness Jesus gives.
One time there was a family who had a rule that everyone was to be present for the evening meal. One day, one of the youth was playing with his friends and lost track of time. When he arrived home his family was already seated at the dinner table, eating their dinner. The youth's father told him to sit down and watch the rest of his family eat. The youth sat there in complete silence salivating at the site of the food on the table. After a few minutes his father said, "Do you understand why you aren't receiving any food?" The youth said he understood what his father meant. Then, surprising to the family, his father set his own plate in front of the youth and told him to eat. His father forgave his son and in the process he sacrificed his own dinner.
The Spirit of Thanksgiving
by Keith Wagner
Psalm 100
Greg Anderson, in Living Life on Purpose, tells a story about a man whose wife had left him. He was completely depressed. He had lost faith in himself, in other people, and in God. Therefore he found no joy in living. One rainy morning this man went to a small neighborhood restaurant for breakfast. Although several people were at the diner, no one was speaking to anyone else. The man hunched over the counter, stirring his coffee with a spoon.
In one of the small booths along the window was a young mother with a little girl. They had just been served their food when the little girl broke the sad silence by almost shouting, "Momma, why don't we say our prayers here?" The waitress who had just served their breakfast turned around and said, "Sure, honey, we pray here. Will you say the prayer for us?" And she turned and looked at the rest of the people in the restaurant and said, "Bow your heads." Surprisingly, one by one, the heads went down. The little girl then bowed her head, folded her hands, and said, "God is great, God is good, and we thank him for our food. Amen."
That prayer changed the entire atmosphere. People began to talk with one another. The waitress said, "We should do that every morning."
"All of a sudden," said the man, "my whole frame of mind started to improve. From that little girl's example, I started to thank God for all that I did have and stopped thinking about all that I didn't have. I started to be grateful."
The little girl's prayer injected a spirit of thanksgiving into the lives around her because she gave her whole hearted devotion for what she had received.
"Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him, bless his holy name!" The psalm reminds us to be grateful to God for all God has done for us. Not just for putting food on the table but for God's never ending love and grace.
Cheerfully and with a spirit of gratitude the Israelites praised God in the temple for all God had provided. Like the man whose life changed because of the little girl's prayer may we be joyful and express our gratitude with songs of praise.
This week we will celebrate Thanksgiving. Families and friends will gather around the table, sharing things for which they are thankful. It is an American tradition, one that has been practiced since the year 1621. What is extraordinary to me is how the pilgrims could be thankful since their situation was tragic and hopeless. Half of the colony had perished. Only 5 of 18 wives survived. Only one family was left intact. To make things worse they were not experienced in farming and their governor, John Carver, died of sunstroke. In spite of their difficulties they made peace with the Indians. And with their help they put together a great feast. In the midst of a crisis they gave thanks.
There would still be hard times ahead for the pilgrims. But they had hope and it was appropriate for them to give thanks. Their attitude of gratitude enabled them to endure. Their "spirit of thanksgiving" gave them the courage and faith to push forward.
Rev. Dr. Keith Wagner is the pastor of St. John's UCC in Troy, Ohio. He and his wife, Lin, live in Springfield, Ohio.
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StoryShare, November 28, 2013, issue.
Copyright 2013 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
