"The Stove and the Cocoa" | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: "The Stove and the Cocoa" | Previous Challenge Entry
By Frank Salerni
12/04/07
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“The Stove and the Cocoa”

Shattering cold, blistering wind, and the thought of a hot cup of cocoa was all that drove me on to a stranger’s home that winter night.

Darkness filled the sky in the early hours just before a new dawn, and the snow crackled like crisp rice cereal under my shivering feet. I surly had lost my mind to be out on such an obviously miserable start to a morning, and yet, I had a spark, if you will, a prodding of sorts, and I felt that I must go to a place I had never gone before.

I walked down a path that would take me to a house gracefully adorned with the hopes of a “Merry Christmas,” and from someone I did not know. I went right up to the doorstep, and then paused momentarily wondering if I should have second thoughts, or press on?

Too cold to turn back now, I scurried up to the front door. It was decorated as a package for a special friend; you know the kind I mean, favorite ribbon, perfect paper, and a wreath in the place of a bow.

A brass doorknocker carefully stood out from the door, and was painstakingly cut as not to disturb the package, or distract from its beauty.

As I raised the brass knob to announce my presence I winced, anticipating the harsh sound to come in the stillness of that moment.

The door creaked on its old hinges, and the silhouette of a woman stood peering around it to see who was there. Behind her was awesome beauty that almost took my cold breath away. It was festive seasonal array that backlit her person, and to me, she shown like a Christmas angel on top of a tree.

“Welcome! I certainly hope you enjoy the morning bible study.”

Her greeting was not only enthusiastic, but her voice was the first warm thing that I had encountered since the time I had opened my eyes.

My hands rung the rim of my hat, and my eyes were cast downward as I said, “Hi, I’m not quite sure I belong here, I mean, I really don’t know you, or anyone else in town for that matter, you see… I, I mean… I’m new to the area.”

She gave me that reassuring smile, and simply stated, “You’re most welcome here. Come in and meet the others, won’t you?”

When she fully opened the door five others greeted me and made me feel most welcome.

A hot cup of cocoa was placed in my half-frozen, still gloved hand, and I moved over to a timeless potbellied stove sighing in agreement with the others; they chuckled knowing my feelings of relief from the cold that we all relished.

The woman who greeted me at the door soon nodded to a man who turned out to be her husband, a local pastor, and he took the hands of those next to him in his own. Others joined in, and when the circle of saints was complete he said, “Let us pray.”

No one knew that this was my first time experiencing the love of God from strangers. No one knew that I would have never walked into a church building for the fear of rejection.
I was homeless, dirty, an unsavorily type to look on from the outside. Life had given me less hope than any one man should endure.

It was that small, hand written advertisement blown by the wind, and picked up by a poor soul in search of the “meaning of it all,” with the promise of a warm cup of cocoa, that enticed me to be so bold as to come to a stranger’s house.

I never knew that it was God’s plan to show me how much He cared. The stove and the cocoa was nothing compared to the warmth of God’s love the morning I gave my cold heart to Jesus. They called the place I went to a home group, but I call it… coming home.

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