by Don Childers
“I am so sorry.” Bill gave her a hug.
From the bedroom Bill saw Sal emerge, walking slowly, pushing an oxygen tank ahead of him. Bill noted how much older Sal looked.
“Bill, Bill,” Sal said reaching out to give Bill a hug. “So good to see you.”
Maria helped Sal as he sat in a chair and rearranged the oxygen.
“This thing is something else,” Sal said readjusting the oxygen. “I have heard such wonderful things about the mission and the changes you have made. You were quite famous recently with that TV thing and all those articles. I was so proud!”
Maria got up and went into the kitchen, emerging a few moments later with hot tea and cookies; homemade, of course.
“I am so sorry to see you like this,” Bill said. “How are you doing, really?”
“It does not look good,” Sal said. “We all have our time and I have had a very good life. What more can you do than help people and see your dream grow into what it did.”
“Surely, the treatment will help,” Bill said, more to interject some hope. “We all die,” Sal said philosophically. “The real point is how we live.”
“How is Sharon doing?” Maria interjected, changing the subject.
“Fine, we both are doing fine.” Bill paused and then decided to be more truthful. “Actually there is a little problem.”
“Problem?” Sal and Maria said together.
“Oh, not with the mission or with Sharon and me,” Bill said pausing. Then he shared his concerns, noting how some in the business community seemed supportive but then held back as though something else was going on.
Sal settled back in the chair. ‘Let me tell you a story.” He continued after a bite of cookie. “Many years ago some people approached me with the idea of running for public office. They said they would be willing to back me. I was, to be honest, honored. I imagined myself becoming a councilman, then maybe a representative to the state House.”
“So what happened,” Bill asked? “Did you win?”
“No, I dropped the idea,” Sal said pausing. “You know that some things seem too good to be true and they turn out to be just that. I began to ask why I had been approached—what was the motive. Then one day while I was talking to Benny Lewis, he let it slip. The council position paid some but not enough. Mr. Lewis offered me a job with his company should I accept the nomination and guaranteed that he would grant me the time off I needed to do my job. He offered me much more than what I was getting at the Mission. It just was too good to be true. Honestly, for a few moments I considered it.”
“Not too much,” Maria interjected. “Sal considered it for the family but I straightened that out right away.” There was intensity in her comment that Bill had not seen before. “I told Sal that all I wanted was for he and our family to be doing something good, serving God and I was just suspicious!”
Sal laughed. “Yes she really was. I think she saw through the offer before I did.” Taking a sip of tea Sal continued.
“Well one day an angel came to visit me.”
“An angel?” Bill said.
“Yes, one of those angels God sends our way if we are listening. This angel was the minister of Central Church, Joe Reed.”
Bill paused and remembered seeing Joseph Reed’s picture in the hallway with the portraits of other ministers. What had impressed him was how short his ministry had been. When his own ministry had ended so abruptly, Bill had wondered if Reverend Reed had had similar problems.
“Yes, Joseph Reed. He was at Central many years before me. He also had a short ministry.”
Sal looked troubled. “I fear it was because of what he told me that his ministry was so short. He never said but I always wondered. He resigned about three months after he told me some things.”
“What things?” Bill asked.
Looking right at Bill he said, “It was about Mr. Lewis. It seems that Mr. Lewis had some grand plans of his own. He had plans for buying up a lot of land and buildings including the Second Street Mission. He felt that he could develop the area into Condos and shops and this would make him very, very rich.”
“He is rich!” Bill interrupted.
“Oh, much richer than he is today. Mr. Lewis wanted to belong to the exclusive club of the very rich. He wanted to be a mover and shaker in state politics. He wanted to have the kind of money that would generate more money and more influence.”
“And?”
“And the mission was standing in his way.”
Bill began to see. It all began to fit. Why Benny had been gracious in other areas but seemed not to be gracious about the mission had never added up.
“Anyway,” Sal continued, “Joe told me that the plan was to get me away from the mission, into politics or being offered a good job and that would open the way for Mr. Lewis to close the mission, buy up the buildings and build his little empire. After Joe left it all made sense. It fit. Mr. Lewis had no love for the poor, no matter what he said. I knew that I had to remain at the mission, it was my calling in this confusing world.”
“So how did Benny—Mr. Lewis—react?” Bill asked.
Maria spoke up. “Well, it has been a struggle. But a lot of other people were so supportive that there was not a lot Mr. Lewis could do. He kept trying to find something on Sal, start rumors about Sal and me; you know the stuff the Devil does. That Mr. Lewis is evil, pure evil.”
“I don’t know if I would use that term. . .” Bill said but before he could finish Sal interrupted.
“Bill, I don’t use that term much. I tend to think, as you know, that every person has the light of God inside and all we have to do is nurture that light, encourage it. But, every once in a while the real thing comes along—evil I mean. I have watched Mr. Lewis operate, what he did to Reverend Reed, Reverend Elliott and you—it is evil!”
Maria interrupted, “Mr. Lewis has never forgiven Sal for staying on. He knew that with Sal at the mission he couldn’t touch it. He has never given up his dream and has passed it on to his son. As we were getting older we talked often about what would happen to the mission if something happened to us or we just got too old to protect it any longer.”
Maria reached over and patted Bill’s hand. “And then you came in that one evening and we knew there was someone who would protect these people when we were gone.”
Bill looked at both of them. Sal and Maria had always had a spirit that just emanated from them to others. They had saved so many, including him. He remembered something a professor had said to him once before. Bill had been very frustrated with their calling at the nursing home for the poor when he was taking the course in seminary on poverty.
“We just come down here for a few hours once a week. There is so much more that could be done,” Bill had said.
The professor, whose name Bill had long forgotten, just looked at him and said, “But for that one hour you make a real difference. Just think what their days would be like if no one came to see them. That is the way it happens: one hour, one minute, and one person at a time. We do our best and trust that God will fill in the gaps. Those people probably wait all week for your visits. It is about all they have to look forward to.”
Bill said his goodbyes and prepared to leave to return to Maysville. He now knew what he needed to do. He also had to thank Mary Pond once again. Three cans of soup given in love had touched so many lives, many more than Mary would ever realize. Each person he had helped or would help would demonstrate that sometimes a gift is more than we can ever imagine.
Before he left, Bill turned to Sal and gave him another hug. As Maria walked him to the door Bill told her that if she ever needed anything she was to call him, right away. Then he headed back to Maysville.
“Postlude”
Christmas that year was beautiful. A light snow fell on Maysville. The mission looked more festive than ever. Robby and Lisa again joined Sharon and Bill at the mission. Robby even shared with his father how he had volunteered at a similar mission in St. Louis. Lisa was st
ill at college. She told her parents about how she had organized students to volunteer at local nursing homes and at a local mission in Columbia.
The Mission had changed. Robby and Lisa noted the physical changes, but they also noticed how their dad seemed to be at the center of things, shaking hands, giving hugs, serving up food, and seemed to know everyone by name. There were some very rough-looking people who seemed to soften when they talked to their father.
“Are you related to Reverend Bill?” asked one older woman, missing teeth, but sporting some clean new-used clothing.
“He is my Dad!” Robby said and noted the pride that he felt when he said those words.
“Bless you and bless your dad, he is a saint,”
Robby just smiled.
Whereas in the past the volunteers waited until all were served to eat, Bill insisted that volunteers take turns and join the community for dinner. After dinner they all joined together in singing carols. Bill emerged from a side room dressed as Santa. Robby and Lisa smiled at each other, remembering that a little over a year ago their father would not have needed extra stuffing or a fake beard. Presents were handed out and then Bill went to the front and sat on a stool.
“I want all you to know that on this Christmas you are all somebody. The world is cold outside but in here it is warm. I have a special gift for each of you. Many years ago, many, many years ago I received a special gift from a special lady. Her name was Mary Pond. She lived alone in an old, beat-up house. I remember she had pictures on her wall, cut out from magazines of places around the world, places she would never go. Well, I was a young preacher in my first church, going to school, and preaching on weekends. My dad was very sick and I was disappointed I could not afford to go back home to visit him for Christmas. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Well, Mary was a quiet person with a big heart. When her ex-husband who had left her for a younger woman, then got sick and was put in a nursing home, Mary took care of him until he died, even though he never recognized who she was. She helped people, took care of people when they got sick, and was always someone who would compliment a young preacher. Mary got by on her small Social Security check by doing something special. She told me about it one day. She took me to her cupboard and told me that she survived by eating a can of soup for lunch and another one for dinner. There in her cupboard she had the soup stacked two cans high, one for each day. Well, that Christmas the little church had a party for a very lonely preacher. They gave some nice gifts. The last gift I opened was this old paper bag, given by Mary Pond. When I opened it and looked inside I could not believe what I saw. There in the bag were three cans of soup: chicken with rice, chicken noodle, and vegetable beef. Mary had literally given me three meals. I knew that she would go hungry so the young preacher could have a Christmas present. That gift has inspired me through the years and ultimately is what brought me here.”
Bill paused and pulled a framed picture out of an old sack. Within the frame, made by Larry, were the three faded labels from the soup. Handing the picture to Larry, Bill said, “We are going to hang this right over our door so that everyone who comes here will know that here there is gift, a gift of love, and that everyone is always welcome. Each of you is a gift and my prayer and Christmas wish is that you will see that truth. Merry Christmas!”
The nails rang out as the framed picture of soup labels was placed over the entrance. At each pounding Bill knew that he was where he was to be. Sharon approached his side, as did Robby and Lisa. Larry finished by hanging the framed picture.
“Mary,” Bill thought, “What a gift you did give!”
-THE END-
