Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PICNIC (07/14/22)
-
TITLE: Food for Thought | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marilyn Borga
07/20/22 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
We had gathered that day from four different counties to meet in the orchard of the original McNess homestead. Early in the morning, Cousin Renzie, who now resided on the farm, used his hay wagon to haul in the long tables and benches. One relation provided canvas tents, another, a pile of plates and silverware. A procession of the buggies traversed the dirt roads to bring our clan together for a day of food and fellowship.
While the men set up the tables on the grassy path between the rows of fruit trees, the women unloaded baskets of food. I sought out my cousin Elsie, a middle-aged maiden lady like myself. We organized giant platters of fried chicken, roasted sweet corn, slices of red tomatoes, and quart jars of pickles on the food table. A dozen or more fruit pies, a triple-layer chocolate cake, and tins of cookies packed the dessert table.
The cheerful clatter of voices and laughter filled the air. We paused in our work to watch the children playing in the open fields.
“Looks like we have an intruder in our midst.” Elsie scowled as she pointed toward a group of boys playing tag. With the rest of the children dressed in their Sunday best, the boy’s dusty bare feet and raggedy clothing gave him away. No doubt the scamp had sneaked over from the orphan asylum that I’d noticed across the way. He had some gumption to think he could fit in.
“He’s causing no harm playing there. Let’s leave him be for now,” I whispered. Elsie let out a humph but made no further protest.
Once the sun reached its zenith, our clan began to mosey on toward the food. The rag-a-muffin boy jostled in among the rest of the youngsters. As he came near, I noticed that he was rail-thin. Beneath the dirty too-long bangs, I locked onto hazel eyes that held a mixture of hunger and hope. I gazed at the abundant fare our family was about to indulge in. Words of scripture tickled my conscience. Wasn’t this child one of the “least of these?”
Before Eisie could put up a fuss, I put in my two cents’ worth. “Let the boy stay, Elsie. It wouldn’t be Christian to send him back to the orphan home on an empty stomach.”
So I pulled him into the line beside me in case he might need instructions in proper manners. I needn’t have worried. And he didn’t complain when I plopped him down beside me. I told him my name was Pearl and he said his name was Jacob.
The photographer arrived to take our picture about the time everyone was finishing with desserts. While the man set up his equipment and grouped the crowd to his liking, I asked Jacob if he had ever had his photograph taken. “No, Ma’am,” he answered.
That just didn’t sit right with me: a ten-year-old never having had his picture taken. No matter that he wasn’t a McNess descendant; I wasn’t about to let the child be left out. I used my handkerchief to wipe the smudges off his face. “See that you stand real still,” I told him. I stepped behind him, settled my hands on his skinny shoulders, and we stood like statues until the black smoke from the flash dissipated and the photographer told us we were finished. I was now free to return the child to the asylum. Perhaps.
When I heard the screen door slam, I set aside the album and stepped back into the present day.
“Good morning, Mama Pearl.” Jacob bent over to kiss my cheek. Yes, my gentle Jacob, all grown up now and with children of his own! How grateful I am that I heard the Spirit that day. How glad I am that God showed me I had the power to do good.
*****
Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due,
When it is in the power of your hand to do so.
Proverbs 3:27 (NKJV)
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
Did you catch me at a weak moment or will I tear up again when I read it once more.
Beautiful.