I'm thinking of my Dad this morning, and something he told me just a few weeks before he died came to my mind. This isn't a forwarded e-mail tale. This is a personal story. I'd like to share it this Christmas season.

Years ago my oldest brother, Bill, was an alcoholic, and addicted to all sorts of prescription drugs. His drinking had cost him three (yes three) marriages and estranged him from his two children. As each wife abandoned him for her own sake and sanity, my parents would dutifully pick him up from whatever miserable place he was in and bring him home. For years they desperately checked him into hospitals, clinics, de-toxes, and mental hospitals, and each time wound up with an even more obstinate, demanding, abusive thirty-something son callously robbing them of their lives and peace, and destroying the fabric of love and family between himself and his three younger brothers. My parents were afraid to leave him alone for fear that he would do himself harm or overdose on whatever he could find. Their prayers for him were constant and fervent, but often despondent and hopeless. The stress was nearly unbearable, and seemingly unending.

One Saturday afternoon, my parents decided that for better or worse they had to get out of the house and spend a little time together away from the pressure of tending to Bill. They went "across the mountain" as we say, to Yancey County, North Carolina, where my mother's parents are buried. After placing fresh flowers on the graves, they drove from the mountainside cemetery to downtown Burnsville, just to walk around and window shop. For some reason unknown to them they went into a little consignment shop and began to look around.....Dad still overwhelmed by the anguish and stress waiting back at home for them.

After a few minutes a little girl about eight years old brought a pair of shoes to my dad, mistaking him for a store employee, and asked how much they cost. Dad said "I don't know, you'll have to ask that lady there," pointing to the clerk. He watched as she went to the lady and got her answer, then went to her mother to ask if she could have them. The young mother, obviously of very meager means, asked how much the shoes cost. When the little girl replied "Three dollars," the mom shook her head. No, she didn't have that much money. After a few moments as the Lord tugged at his heart, my dad went to the mother and said "I don't want to interfere, but I'd like to buy these shoes for your little girl." The mother gratefully agreed, and my Dad paid the three dollars for the shoes and gave them to the mother.

A couple of minutes later, he felt a tug on his pants leg, and turned around to see a happy little girl wearing the shoes. She looked up and said, "Mister, I just want to thank you for buying me these shoes." Suddenly, my Dad told me, the clouds in his soul parted, the sun broke through, and the peace of God gave him more joy and solace than anything of this world could have provided. You see, that mother thought that God had sent my father to provide for her need. My Dad knew better.....that God had sent the little girl to lift his spirits and warm his heart.

I'm happy to end this story by saying that a few years after this happened, my brother Bill was born again, and lived his final ten or so years as a child of God. He married again, and by the grace of God got a loving wife and two more children. He went to heaven in December, 1996. Dad joined him in November, 2009. If there's a lesson in this story, it's just that we never know where or how God's blessings will come, but whatever our need is, He will abundantly supply. When we walk in the good works that He has ordained from before the foundation of the world, we will receive far more than we will ever give. Until we all get home to see our loved ones again, may we all walk in His light and love, and see His hand at work in our lives.

Merry Christmas.

--

Sammy Kent

2 Peter 3:18