MOM'S EXAMPLE OF CHARITY

In the mid to late fifties, there were many out-of-work men that we referred to as hobos. I think they must have been drawn to our grey home on 8th street in Mesa, AZ. Not only was it inviting with a neatly kept yard, lots of flowers and HUGE cottonwood trees that lined the ditch across the street, but I think they could feel the spirit of charity that MOM radiated. I recall a number of times that there would be a knock on our back door (they never came to the front) and a scruffy, disheveled, but kind-eyed, soft-spoken man would ask for something to eat and sometimes offer to do chores in exchange. MOM was always sincerely respectful and said if they would wash up at the garden hose or the utility sink she would fix them something. I loved watching her fearlessness and tenderness as she prepared a sandwich (probably leftover roast), some fruit, a mason jar of cold milk and a piece of cake or cookies, and placed them in a brown grocery bag. She only ever asked that they give back the mason jar. I would watch from the big picture window as they went across the street and sat on the wooden bridge over the ditch, dangling their feet just above the water, in the shade of those GIANT cottonwood trees. I wouldn't take my eyes off them. I was waiting for that transformation to happen that I had heard about in primary or Sunday school. I just knew that it was Jesus that came to our door as a beggar, and because of MOM's kindness and love he would reveal himself. Even though I never saw that transformation, I know that MOM passed that test with flying colors. She not only gave them food, but dignity. And, I did see the gratitude and joy that came over the washed and fed hobo!