She had been forty less than a month when her husband died. For the previous four months she had nursed him at home through his final stages of cancer. During those same months her two children were down with the whooping cough. But now, she found herself alone—a widow. It was her responsibility to feed and clothe and rear those children without the luxury of a companion and wage-earner to help her.
It wasn’t easy. Many times she cried out to God in the night hours because she knew not where the next month’s rent, utility payment, or the next meal would come from. Sometimes the wood and coal for heating and cooking nearly ran out because there was no money to buy more. The fire would be carefully banked at night to preserve its life because there were no matches to start another should it go out. The water bucket was placed on the cook stove at night so that it wouldn’t freeze, but in the morning it would be frozen anyway. But the blankets were thick and warm. And those other needs? God always provided. When she learned that she could not survive on her widow’s benefits from Social Security, she took a job. Her first one required that she work ten hours each day, five days per week, for $10 a week. Later, she found a better job that only required eight hours per day and paid $12 for the week.
God blessed this lady and her children in many ways through those lean years. Most of those blessings involved people. People who gave them a ride to worship. Men who helped them move from one house to another that was a little less expensive. Ladies (older ones, especially) who encouraged her and reassured her that she would make it. A couple of deacons who put a roof on her house. A brother-in-law who was as attentive as a mother hen. A Salvation Army thrift store that allowed many of the necessities of a growing family to be within its financial reach. A Christian brother who was faithful to lend $10 or so, now and then, to see them through a crisis.
Of course, all of that took place many years ago. At no time were we completely without food or “homeless.” The closest we came was January following my father’s death when we moved into an abandoned store building which cost ten dollars a month to rent. But we made it—because of that lady’s unconquerable commitment to her children and her hard work. We made it— because of the gracious blessings of God, delivered through the loving hands of people who cared.
Do you suppose there might be some other lady out there desperately trying to raise her children on her own? Do you suppose God might want to use you or me to deliver some of his blessings into her hands?