Tea for Two #3

Tea for Two

This showed up in my eMail recently (from E-Mail Ministry)  and it struck a chord with me.  Please let me share it with you over a cup of tea.  This morning it's Wild Blueberry.

I try to live with this perspective in my heart and mind. 

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ENTERTAINING ANGELS

It was fifty years ago, on a hot summer day, in the deep south. We lived on

a dirt road, on a sand lot. We were, what was known as "dirt poor". I had

been playing outside all morning in the sand.

Suddenly, I heard a sharp clanking sound behind me and looking over my

shoulder, my eyes were drawn to a strange sight! Across the dirt road were

two rows of men, dressed in black and white, striped, baggy uniforms. Their

faces were covered with dust and sweat. They looked so weary, and they were

chained together with huge, black, iron chains. Hanging from the end of each

chained row was a big, black, iron ball.

They were, as polite people said in those days, a "Chain Gang," guarded by

two, heavily armed, white guards. I stared at the prisoners as they settled

uncomfortably down in the dirt, under the shade of some straggly trees. One

of the guards walked towards me. Nodding as he passed, he went up to our

front door and knocked. My mother appeared at the door, and I heard the

guard ask if he could have permission to get water from the pump, in the

backyard, so that "his men" could "have a drink". My mother agreed, but I

saw a look of concern on her face, as she called me inside.

I stared through the window as each prisoner was unchained from the line, to

hobble over to the pump and drink his fill from a small tin cup, while a

guard watched vigilantly. It wasn't long before they were all chained back

up again, with prisoners and guards retreating into the shade, away from an

unrelenting sun. I heard my mother call me into the kitchen, and I entered,

to see her bustling around with tins of tuna fish, mayonnaise, our last loaf

of bread, and two, big, pitchers of lemonade. In what seemed "a blink of an

eye", she had made a tray of sandwiches using all the tuna we were to have

had for that night's supper.

My mother was smiling as she handed me one of the pitchers of lemonade,

cautioning me to carry it "carefully" and to "not spill a drop." Then,

lifting the tray in one hand and holding a pitcher in her other hand, she

marched me to the door, deftly opening it with her foot, and trotted me

across the street. She approached the guards, flashing them with a brilliant

smile. "We had some leftovers from lunch," she said, "and I was wondering if

we could share with you and your men." She smiled at each of the men,

searching their dark eyes with her own eyes of "robin's egg blue." Everyone

started to their feet. "Oh no!" she said. "Stay where you are! I'll just

serve you!" Calling me to her side, she went from guard to guard, then from

prisoner to prisoner, filling each tin cup with lemonade, and giving each

man a sandwich.

It was very quiet, except for a "thank you, ma'am," and the clanking of the

chains. Very soon we were at the end of the line, my mother's eyes softly

scanning each face. The last prisoner was a big man, his dark skin pouring

with sweat, and streaked with dust. Suddenly, his face broke into a

wonderful smile, as he looked up into my mother's eyes, and he said, "Ma'am,

I've wondered all my life if I'd ever see an angel, and now I have! Thank

you!" Again, my mother's smile took in the whole group. "You're all

welcome!" she said. "God bless you." Then we walked across to the house,

with empty tray and pitchers, and back inside.

Soon, the men moved on, and I never saw them again. The only explanation my

mother ever gave me, for that strange and wonderful day, was that I

"remember, always, to entertain strangers, for by doing so, you may

entertain angels, without knowing."

Then, with a mysterious smile, she went about the rest of the day. I don't

remember what we ate for supper, that night. I just know it was served by an

angel.

-- Author Unknown

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