Are You Rich?
Happy Thanksgiving Week! I love this time of year. It always brings fond memories of years past and the excitement of new memories to be made. But as the holiday reminds us it is important to pause and count our blessings. The human mind has a tendency to focus on our lack and our insecurities. We tend to see all of the things that we don’t have and all the things that we wish were different in our lives. But the fact is, if you live in America, especially here in Colorado Springs, you are blessed beyond measure. I encourage you to take the time this year and write down every blessing in your life and hang it on your refrigerator so you can see every day just how much God has given you!
Below is one of my favorite short stories. Enjoy!
“Lady, Are You Rich?”
They huddled inside the storm door — two children in ragged outgrow coats.
“Any old papers, lady?”
I was busy. I wanted to say no — until I looked down at their feet. Thin little sandals, sopped with sleet. “Come in and I’ll make you a cup of hot cocoa.” There was no conversation. Their soggy sandals left marks upon the hearthstone.
Cocoa and toast with jam to fortify against the chill outside. I went back to the kitchen and started again on my household budget…
The silence in the front room struck through to me. I looked in.
The girl held the empty cup in her hands, looking at it. The boy asked in a flat voice, “Lady… are you rich?”
“Am I rich? Mercy, no!” I looked at my shabby slipcovers.
The girl put her cup back in its saucer — carefully. “Your cups match your saucers.” Her voice was old with a hunger that was not of the stomach.
They left then, holding their bundles of papers 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. I tested the potatoes and stirred the gravy. 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 very rich I am.
In Health and Faith,
Dr. Marc
