Knock, knock, knock . . .
She moved slowing toward the front door as the rhythmic sound of fist to wood grew steadily louder.
Mama had never had much, at least not for long. Dad couldn’t keep two coins in his pocket long enough to rub together.
She opened the door to two men standing on her front porch. There was the tell-tell furniture truck out front.
“We’ve come to reposes some furniture.”
A hopeful look came over the younger man’s face.
“Unless you can make good on the money owed.”
The younger man hadn’t been in this line of work as long as the older or he would have already known the answer.
Mama showed the two men the way to the console stereo. In the 1960s console stereos were housed in decorative pieces of furniture. It took both men to move it and load it into the truck.
“Maybe the neighbors won’t notice . . . this time,” she thought to herself.
Mama grew become comfortable with the arrangements of short ownership and repossession.
Familiar thoughts flooded into her mind as she tried to hide her embarrassment. “If only her husband could learn that lesson that a few dollars down didn’t guarantee adequate founds to keep up the payments.”
If it wasn’t for her faith she would just give up.
Life was so hard living with a man who couldn’t hold down a job. Her health kept her from getting work herself. There were also her two daughters to think about. She had to stay strong for them.
This is a memory from my own childhood. Such recollections usually hide deep in the shadows of thought. That day it was only the beautiful wood carved stereo unit that was carried away. I have many more similar memories best left in the shadows.
A knock came to the spiritual door of my heart in August of 1978. The knock was soft and gentle not inpatient or demanding. God did not come to reposes but to give. That day my Heavenly Father reached into the storehouse of His mercy and gave me the greatest gift of all.
Do if I appreciate it even more because I’ve known want?
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