“THE LAST of the sugar, Father!”
“And the last of the oatmeal!”
“Only flour enough for one more baking! Hardly that.”
“The potatoes are almost gone, and there’s no more pork.”
“Margaret’s shoes are completely worn out. She can’t go out of the house until she gets another pair! Neither to school, nor to play, nor anywhere else.”
They sat around the breakfast table — the brave missionary and his family and the usual blessing on the food had been asked without which John Fletcher never began a meal.
The mother had sparingly divided the last of the sugar into each cup before she poured the steaming coffee. The oldest daughter had spoken of the oatmeal as she served out the porridge, the next daughter being the family baker had mentioned the flour and John Jr. the potatoes and pork.
Mr. Fletcher didn’t speak but in his pocketbook he had only forty-seven cents.
It was a cold morning and a bitter blast at that moment went whirling around the house. “Put some more wood on the stove, Jack,” said the missionary quietly, “thank God we have plenty of wood.”
“But, Father,” urged his daughter, “where is our food to come from, and what shall we do for clothes? We can’t eat fuel.”
“My dear,” replied her father, “I don’t know. God knows. And we must not worry; we must be in perfect peace. Has He not said, ‘Fear not, little flock. It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom'?”
John Fletcher had written home, telling of the poverty of the people among whom he labored. Their crops had failed that year, and they had no money to buy groceries or clothing. But three weeks had gone by and no word had come. It was a test of faith.
But that morning in the midst of their tasks, the Fletcher family were startled by a loud knocking at the door, and a cartage man called, “Here’s a load of freight for you. Four big barrels of goods.”
Great was the excitement and joy as those barrels were unpacked. Blankets were in one and quilts — good warm patchwork ones. Out of another came stockings, dresses, underwear, coats, shoes — the cast-offs of a well clothed community.
Then there was a good supply of groceries, and tucked into the middle of one barrel was a valuable new book, to be especially prized by the missionary because it was addressed to him. And here and there between the leaves, the giver had placed dollar bills to the amount of one hundred dollars.
Provisions were in those barrels for many a home and something for everybody.
The little company of friends, when the gifts had been distributed sang with grateful voices—
“How good is the God we adore,
Our faithful, unchangeable Friend.”
ML-02/18/1962