Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Hunger (07/04/24)
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TITLE: A Little Boy | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marilyn Meiners
07/05/24 -
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I grew up in Northern Illinois in the 40’s. In fact, I was born during World War 2. It was a destructive time, not only for those fighting the war, but for those living at home. The Great Depression was just ending and people were trying to get back on their feet. As is the case today, there were many homeless, many hungry souls, and many of these homeless would stop at our home and beg for food.
Why our home?
We lived two hundred feet from the railroad tracks. A mile from the train depot, so as these trains were coming into our town they would begin to slow down as they reached the depot. Because many homeless would ride the trains, they would jump off before they arrived into town. Having no place to go, and no food in their belly, they would resort to begging. They went to the first home they saw.
Thus, our home.
As a child growing up in our safe town of Freeport, no one ever locked their doors. You didn’t have to. There was no crime, like there is today. Everyone was trustworthy.
Thus, no locked doors.
I remember one time when I was about seven. I was getting ready for school. Mom was in the kitchen ironing. As I came down for breakfast I heard mom talking to someone. I was shocked at the sight I saw. There stood this disheveled man, in our kitchen, begging mom for food. He had opened the door and walked in. He didn’t knock. Why should he, the door was unlocked.
Mom talked to him in her gentle voice. “Sir, I would be happy to get you some food, but you will have to wait for it outside. Please leave.”
I held my breath, wondering what he would do. Would he leave, or would he refuse. Would he try something more.
He hesitated for a moment, then turned around and walked out the door. He sat down on the back steps and waited.
Mom quickly made him a sandwich, added an apple and homemade cookie then placed it in a brown paper bag, folded the top, and gave it to him. He thanked her and left.
This happened over and over again during my growing up years. People were hungry, and as Mother Theresa said, “If you can’t feed a hundred, feed one.” Mom would always feed that one hungry person who knocked on our door.
I learned a valuable lesson from her.
When my husband graduated from Divinity School in 1974 we moved to Staten Island, NY. I was surprised at how many hungry people would knock at our door. Maybe because we lived next door to the church.
Thus, I kept my doors locked!
Many men knocked on our door begging for food. I would do as my mom did. Make a sandwich, then put it into a brown paper bag along with an apple and a cookie. Fold it and give it to them. Most times they were grateful.
I remember the time a little boy, maybe aged twelve, knocked at my door. He said, “My mom didn’t receive her social security check for this month and my siblings and I are hungry. Do you have any food you could give us.”
No one should let children go hungry.
I didn’t have much, but I did have a full box of unopened oatmeal. I said, “Would this work?”
He smiled and said, “Yes, I”ll take it.”
I watched him carry the box of oatmeal up the street, smiling as he went.
A month later he was back at my door with the same request. As it just so happened, I had a box of unopened oatmeal, which I gave to him.
He left a happy camper.
I never heard from him again.
I didn’t give much, but what I gave was given in the name of Jesus.
“For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’ “Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’
That little boy represented Jesus to me. I gave what I had. I met his need. God used the “little” in my hand to feed a hungry boy and his family; I fed Jesus.
Story is Non-Fiction
Scripture: Matthew 25:35-40 - NLT
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