Prosperity boarded the school bus “Seat five, walkway” the bus driver grunted. Prosperity sat down and wrinkled her nose at her poor seatmate. She wondered why Jack had to throw a water balloon at the cranky old man and get her stuck in the front with this thing for a whole semester.
“Hi, my name’s Humble,” the deprived, skinny girl beamed, reaching out a grimy hand. Prosperity looked and felt like she was going to puke. She rode the rest of the way on the edge of the seat.
When Prosperity got she home called her father at work; he’d fix this mess. “Daddy dearest, could you do me a teensy tiny little favor and pay someone to get me a seat away from the filthy poor girl on my bus, pleeese,” she said in her sappiest, sweetest voice.
“Honey, money is a little tight right now, you’ll have to make do,” he sounded exhausted and had to leave before his shocked child could respond.
This incident was nothing compared to the next few weeks. Prosperity’s fresh supply of designer clothes from France quit coming in. They bought generic food. Worst of all, her mother was actually planning a garage sale. Furthermore, that sweet little Humble was just as sun-shiny as ever.
One day Prosperity got sick of it. When she boarded the bus, as usual, Humble acted all happy to see her as if they were best buds. “STOP IT! Quit being all happy when you’re not!” Prosperity yelled entirely too loud.
“But, I am happy,” Humble commented with a little bounce.
Prosperity’s perfect face was contorted with confusion, “how can you be happy with nothing?”
“I have what I need, roof over my head… sort of, and I eat everyday… usually. But I have my Mom and Dad and most importantly, God. You can’t be happy without Him.”
Suddenly, Prosperity felt very guilty; she was upset because her lap of luxury had gotten a little cold. Here was this girl, her age, who had nothing but was thankful. “Mind if I get off the bus with you today?”
“Not at all, friends are always welcome,” Humble was even more cheerful.
They stopped at a shack: 3 aluminum walls duck-taped to a cardboard ceiling. On the dirt floor was a large tattered blanket and a small pile of belongings. “Here we are, home sweet home,” Humble said proudly.
A woman entered the shack, “welcome home, Humble, I found some bread. Who’s this?”
“Bread! I love you, Mom. Oh! This is…” Humble snapped her fingers, trying to recall her friend’s name.
“Prosperity,” the rich girl said, shaking the youthful-appearing woman’s hand. “My neighborhood is just around the corner, can Humble sleep over?” Humble gave her mother the puppy dog look. Her mom sighed and ushered them away.
“Thank you, Mommy. Did tell you I love you ‘cuz I do,” Humble threw her arms around her mother’s neck before bouncing off.
“Want a bite?” she asked, offering the thin, white slice to Prosperity.
“No, I’m good. So tell me about this God of yours.”
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