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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Miracles / Wonders
- Published: 12/06/2023
"God makes more than cookies."
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States.jpeg)
“Mommy, I am hungry.”
The young Mother looked down at the youngest of her three children. She smiled a soft smile at how strong her little three year old was trying to be.
She let her hand gently stroke the side of her little girl.
“I know, Honey. Mommy is too. But I only have enough money for Gas. When we get home…I will make us some soup.”
“But I am hungry now.”
Her heart broke. Once again she had run out of money before she ran out of month. Timmy’s sprained ankle and the boot he now wears with pride, took the last of her tiny savings. She was still furious with the cost of the X-rays …and the boot.
Her mind started to run down that road of : “…the richest country in the World…” and she had to stop herself.
It was then that a strong... older sounding voice… interrupted the very cycle of downward thoughts she was trying to break on her own. It was a welcome distraction.
“Miss? Miss?”
She shifted her gaze from her daughter and the inward vista that seemed to draw her attention more and more.
“Yes?”
He was an older man. In good shape for the decades he wore in his expression and voice. He had to be seventy …if not more.
He had a worried smile, not forced, but concerned. His eyes were warm, free of judgement. Somewhere- deep inside of her- a memory of her Grandfather reading her a book using a sock puppet and the world’s worst ventriloquy technique snuggled up against the front of her eyes to see the man in a different light.
“I did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation. But it is Christmas soon. Would I embarrass you…and believe me, I don’t mean to do that. But if you would let me fill up your tank, and treat you and the kids to Jersey Mike’s for lunch. Well, you would be making the day of an old man.”
Her mind lit up with so many thoughts that it bristled with sparks of joy. He made it sound like they were doing a favor…for him.
Out of habit she started to decline. He reached out gently and curled her hand around the thirteen dollars and some change she was going to buy gas with, still clutched in her palm.
“Save that.”
She blushed. She went to put the cash back in her purse when the old man knelt in front of her three children. Timmy, still in his walking boot was a bit taller than the old man kneeling in front of him. Sharon, was a few inches smaller than Timmy, her eyes were almost exactly level with the old man’s. Lizzy, well, she was only three…and small for her age.
But as one they turned to face the old man as he kneeled.
“So, young people.”
“I’m not young. I am seven!”
Said little Timmy with the certainty of youth.
The old man nodded. His eyes twinkling.
“A fine age that is to be. It means you are old enough to help me.”
“Help you?”
“Yes. Can you read?”
Timmy’s little shoulders straightened up, his spine fully inflated.
“I sure can. (But a moment of honesty …an inherent part of his developing character followed that statement with another) But not as good as my Sister. She can read whole books!”
His sister (Sharon) beamed with pride at her brother’s assessment. It made a warm glow move the hunger pains out of her stomach for a few seconds.
The old man let his eyes widen with admiration.
“Is that so? (Sharon nodded shyly) Well then, you can help me.”
All this time everyone in line had dropped their impatience to see what the old man was doing on one knee with a bunch of ragamuffins in a semicircle. Including a harried, distraught, and obviously dressed in Thrift Store clothing one who was ignoring everyone except the old man and her children.
“Well, you see, I have asked your Mother to let me take you all to lunch." (Three tiny sets of palms clapped almost in unison …and glee)
Even the hardest heart in line behind the bizarre scene being played out in front of the cash registers had to smile at that childhood mix of hope, hunger, and relief.
“I want to take you to Jersey Mike’s. It is a Deli.”
“I know what a Deli is. (Timmy again) They make fancy sandwiches that taste like Heaven.”
The old man’s eyebrow shot up.
“Who told you that?”
He pointed to his Mom.
“She did. She said that someday we would go to a Deli like she did when she was a kid in New York. (His shoulders fell) But…well, sandwiches from Heaven cost too much.”
Now folks in line were either getting shiny eyes, or losing the present moment to hard times in their own lives. No one was moving. The two Cashiers had crammed closer to the counter. No way were they missing any of this conversation.
“Well, I just happen to have a gift card to the Deli. I am an old man and can’t eat all the sandwiches myself. They have so many choices on a big board on the wall. But I am old…and I can’t read writing that far away. “
Sharon reached over and tugged on the man’s lapel.
“I can read the board for you!”
“Oh, that would be a great help. And would you also help me eat the sandwiches?”
Three heads nodded in agreement.
The old man said one more thing. The thing that brought smiles, laughter, and more than a little Christmas Spirit to the entire store.
“Of course, you will have to eat everything including the cookie.”
Three sets of eyes grew wide, mouths grew into a round moue as they gasped.
“Cookies? We get Cookies?!”
There was laughter from all the adults. That sound of childhood delight strikes a chord in almost all of us.
“Oh, yes. The biggest gooiest chocolate chip cookies you will ever have!”
Then little Lizzy spoke up:
“Does God make the cookies too?”
The old man smiled. That one comment had brought the whole store into her innocent world.
“Yes, he does. The sandwiches come from Heaven after all.”
Without thinking, the young Mother reached down. Somehow knowing the older man needed a hand up. Before she could even pull him, a big brawny man from behind the old man, simply reached down and lifted the old man like a feather…straight to his feet.
The old man started to say thank you, when the strong young man, who towered over him by a good ten inches…wrapped him in a giant hug.
“Thanks old man. I kinda forgot what being kind looks like. Thank you.”
He let go of the old man, handed two twenty dollar bills to the stunned young mother.
“It ain’t much. But it is all I can spare. Get something for the kids for Christmas.”
With that the big man walked out smiling. A lady with a Gucci hand bag, and impeccable hair reached out with a folded hundred dollar bill. She placed it in the speechless woman’s hand.
“What the young man said.”
She turned and surprised everyone by reaching over and giving the old man a gentle peck on the cheek.
“And thanks for the reminder. Enjoy your sandwiches.”
Another guy, thousands of miles away from his own family, patted the old man’s shoulder as he pressed by.
“I got the gas, buddy. (Looking at the young mother whose face was lined with the tears of overwhelm.) what pump is your car at? I will fill it up for you.”
She squeaked out:
“It is the old blue Toyota Carolla…pump seven. “
The Trucker nodded, tipped his cap to the old man…and went to fill up her tank.
Two teenagers. Both boys. Paid for four Candy Bars. Handing them to the young Mother and the three little ones. They laughed as they handed them to the kids with a fake stern voice:
“Those are for later. You eat lunch first!”
Three tiny heads nodded. And three candy bars were stuck into threadbare jackets. And the hand that put them there stayed put. Holding a treasure they had never expected.
And so the tiny parade of children, an openly thankful mother, a beaming old man went through the open glass doors of the store. Held open by the two teenage boys who had bought the candy.
The Trucker waved the small family over to their car. As they loaded up to follow the old man in his car to Jersey Mike’s. the Trucker pulled the old man over to the side.
He leaned in and whispered:
“I checked the tires. Left front is bald. I wouldn’t let her drive one more day on that. Two other tires have less than a few hundred miles on them before they blow. And…well, she needs shocks. “
The old man brightened up.
“Good thing Christmas is coming. I think Santa can pull a few tires from his sleigh.”
The Trucker laughed out loud…and winked.
“Yeah, Santa always carries a spare.”
The two men shook hands.
The Old man started up his car, made sure the young family was following him. He smiled to himself.
He reached over and patted the seat where his beloved Kathy used to sit.
“Well, honey, looks like we will have a good Christmas this year.”
He laughed out loud as he heard her voice, the voice he had so missed over the last two years.
“Well, those cookies are to die for.”
“Amen."
The young Mother looked down at the youngest of her three children. She smiled a soft smile at how strong her little three year old was trying to be.
She let her hand gently stroke the side of her little girl.
“I know, Honey. Mommy is too. But I only have enough money for Gas. When we get home…I will make us some soup.”
“But I am hungry now.”
Her heart broke. Once again she had run out of money before she ran out of month. Timmy’s sprained ankle and the boot he now wears with pride, took the last of her tiny savings. She was still furious with the cost of the X-rays …and the boot.
Her mind started to run down that road of : “…the richest country in the World…” and she had to stop herself.
It was then that a strong... older sounding voice… interrupted the very cycle of downward thoughts she was trying to break on her own. It was a welcome distraction.
“Miss? Miss?”
She shifted her gaze from her daughter and the inward vista that seemed to draw her attention more and more.
“Yes?”
He was an older man. In good shape for the decades he wore in his expression and voice. He had to be seventy …if not more.
He had a worried smile, not forced, but concerned. His eyes were warm, free of judgement. Somewhere- deep inside of her- a memory of her Grandfather reading her a book using a sock puppet and the world’s worst ventriloquy technique snuggled up against the front of her eyes to see the man in a different light.
“I did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation. But it is Christmas soon. Would I embarrass you…and believe me, I don’t mean to do that. But if you would let me fill up your tank, and treat you and the kids to Jersey Mike’s for lunch. Well, you would be making the day of an old man.”
Her mind lit up with so many thoughts that it bristled with sparks of joy. He made it sound like they were doing a favor…for him.
Out of habit she started to decline. He reached out gently and curled her hand around the thirteen dollars and some change she was going to buy gas with, still clutched in her palm.
“Save that.”
She blushed. She went to put the cash back in her purse when the old man knelt in front of her three children. Timmy, still in his walking boot was a bit taller than the old man kneeling in front of him. Sharon, was a few inches smaller than Timmy, her eyes were almost exactly level with the old man’s. Lizzy, well, she was only three…and small for her age.
But as one they turned to face the old man as he kneeled.
“So, young people.”
“I’m not young. I am seven!”
Said little Timmy with the certainty of youth.
The old man nodded. His eyes twinkling.
“A fine age that is to be. It means you are old enough to help me.”
“Help you?”
“Yes. Can you read?”
Timmy’s little shoulders straightened up, his spine fully inflated.
“I sure can. (But a moment of honesty …an inherent part of his developing character followed that statement with another) But not as good as my Sister. She can read whole books!”
His sister (Sharon) beamed with pride at her brother’s assessment. It made a warm glow move the hunger pains out of her stomach for a few seconds.
The old man let his eyes widen with admiration.
“Is that so? (Sharon nodded shyly) Well then, you can help me.”
All this time everyone in line had dropped their impatience to see what the old man was doing on one knee with a bunch of ragamuffins in a semicircle. Including a harried, distraught, and obviously dressed in Thrift Store clothing one who was ignoring everyone except the old man and her children.
“Well, you see, I have asked your Mother to let me take you all to lunch." (Three tiny sets of palms clapped almost in unison …and glee)
Even the hardest heart in line behind the bizarre scene being played out in front of the cash registers had to smile at that childhood mix of hope, hunger, and relief.
“I want to take you to Jersey Mike’s. It is a Deli.”
“I know what a Deli is. (Timmy again) They make fancy sandwiches that taste like Heaven.”
The old man’s eyebrow shot up.
“Who told you that?”
He pointed to his Mom.
“She did. She said that someday we would go to a Deli like she did when she was a kid in New York. (His shoulders fell) But…well, sandwiches from Heaven cost too much.”
Now folks in line were either getting shiny eyes, or losing the present moment to hard times in their own lives. No one was moving. The two Cashiers had crammed closer to the counter. No way were they missing any of this conversation.
“Well, I just happen to have a gift card to the Deli. I am an old man and can’t eat all the sandwiches myself. They have so many choices on a big board on the wall. But I am old…and I can’t read writing that far away. “
Sharon reached over and tugged on the man’s lapel.
“I can read the board for you!”
“Oh, that would be a great help. And would you also help me eat the sandwiches?”
Three heads nodded in agreement.
The old man said one more thing. The thing that brought smiles, laughter, and more than a little Christmas Spirit to the entire store.
“Of course, you will have to eat everything including the cookie.”
Three sets of eyes grew wide, mouths grew into a round moue as they gasped.
“Cookies? We get Cookies?!”
There was laughter from all the adults. That sound of childhood delight strikes a chord in almost all of us.
“Oh, yes. The biggest gooiest chocolate chip cookies you will ever have!”
Then little Lizzy spoke up:
“Does God make the cookies too?”
The old man smiled. That one comment had brought the whole store into her innocent world.
“Yes, he does. The sandwiches come from Heaven after all.”
Without thinking, the young Mother reached down. Somehow knowing the older man needed a hand up. Before she could even pull him, a big brawny man from behind the old man, simply reached down and lifted the old man like a feather…straight to his feet.
The old man started to say thank you, when the strong young man, who towered over him by a good ten inches…wrapped him in a giant hug.
“Thanks old man. I kinda forgot what being kind looks like. Thank you.”
He let go of the old man, handed two twenty dollar bills to the stunned young mother.
“It ain’t much. But it is all I can spare. Get something for the kids for Christmas.”
With that the big man walked out smiling. A lady with a Gucci hand bag, and impeccable hair reached out with a folded hundred dollar bill. She placed it in the speechless woman’s hand.
“What the young man said.”
She turned and surprised everyone by reaching over and giving the old man a gentle peck on the cheek.
“And thanks for the reminder. Enjoy your sandwiches.”
Another guy, thousands of miles away from his own family, patted the old man’s shoulder as he pressed by.
“I got the gas, buddy. (Looking at the young mother whose face was lined with the tears of overwhelm.) what pump is your car at? I will fill it up for you.”
She squeaked out:
“It is the old blue Toyota Carolla…pump seven. “
The Trucker nodded, tipped his cap to the old man…and went to fill up her tank.
Two teenagers. Both boys. Paid for four Candy Bars. Handing them to the young Mother and the three little ones. They laughed as they handed them to the kids with a fake stern voice:
“Those are for later. You eat lunch first!”
Three tiny heads nodded. And three candy bars were stuck into threadbare jackets. And the hand that put them there stayed put. Holding a treasure they had never expected.
And so the tiny parade of children, an openly thankful mother, a beaming old man went through the open glass doors of the store. Held open by the two teenage boys who had bought the candy.
The Trucker waved the small family over to their car. As they loaded up to follow the old man in his car to Jersey Mike’s. the Trucker pulled the old man over to the side.
He leaned in and whispered:
“I checked the tires. Left front is bald. I wouldn’t let her drive one more day on that. Two other tires have less than a few hundred miles on them before they blow. And…well, she needs shocks. “
The old man brightened up.
“Good thing Christmas is coming. I think Santa can pull a few tires from his sleigh.”
The Trucker laughed out loud…and winked.
“Yeah, Santa always carries a spare.”
The two men shook hands.
The Old man started up his car, made sure the young family was following him. He smiled to himself.
He reached over and patted the seat where his beloved Kathy used to sit.
“Well, honey, looks like we will have a good Christmas this year.”
He laughed out loud as he heard her voice, the voice he had so missed over the last two years.
“Well, those cookies are to die for.”
“Amen."
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