Jaye at the age of 5yrs
ENTERTAINING ANGELS
As appears
in Chicken Soup for
Every Mom's Soul
**An Award Winning Heartwarmer**
Heartwarmers.com
It was fifty years ago, on a hot summer day, in the deep
south.
We lived on a dirt road, on a sand lot.
We were, what was known
as "dirt poor".
I had been playing outside all morning in the sand.
Suddenly, I heard a sharp clanking sound behind me, and
looking over my
shoulder my eyes were drawn to a strange sight!
Across the dirt road were two rows of men,
dressed in black and
white, striped, baggy uniforms.
Their faces were covered with dust and
sweat.
They looked so weary,
and they were chained together with huge,
black, iron chains.
Hanging from the end of each chained row was a big,
black, iron ball.
They were, as polite people said in those days, a
"Chain Gang,"
guarded by two, heavily armed, white guards.
I stared at the prisoners as they settled uncomfortably down in
the dirt,
under the shade of some straggly trees.
One of the guards
walked towards me.
Nodding as he passed, he went up to our front door and
knocked.
My mother appeared at the door, and I heard the guard ask
if he
could have permission to get water from the pump,
in the backyard,
so that
his “men could have a drink".
My mother agreed, but I saw a look of
concern on her face,
as she called me inside.
I stared through the window as each prisoner
was
unchained from the line,
to hobble over to the pump and drink his fill
from a small tin cup,
while a guard watched vigilantly.
It wasn't long
before they were all chained back up again,
with prisoners and guards
retreating into the shade,
away from an unrelenting sun.
I heard my
mother call me into the kitchen, and
I entered to see her bustling around
with tins of tuna fish,
mayonnaise, our last loaf of bread, and two, big
pitchers of lemonade.
In what seemed like "a blink of an eye",
she had
made a tray of sandwiches,
using all the tuna we were to have had for that
night's supper.
My mother was smiling as she handed
me one of the pitchers of lemonade,
cautioning me to “carry it carefully"
and to "not spill a drop."
Then, lifting the tray in one hand and holding
a pitcher in her other hand,
she marched me to the door, deftly opening it
with her foot,
and trotted me
across the street.
She approached the guards, flashing them with a
brilliant smile.
"We had some leftovers from lunch," she said,
"and I was
wondering if we could share with you and your men."
She smiled at each of
the men,
searching their dark eyes with her own eyes of "robin's egg
blue."
Everyone started to their feet.
"Oh no!" she said. "Stay where
you are! I'll just serve you!"
Calling me to her side, she went from
guard to guard,
then from prisoner to prisoner,
filling each tin cup with
lemonade, and giving each man a sandwich.
It was very quiet, except for a
"thank you, ma'am," and
the clanking of the chains.
Very soon we were at the end of the line,
my
mother's eyes softly scanning each face.
The last prisoner was a big man, his dark skin pouring with
sweat
and streaked with dust.
Suddenly, his face broke into a wonderful
smile,
as he looked up into my mother's eyes, and he said,
"Ma'am, I've
wondered all my life if I'd ever see an angel, and now I have!
Thank
you!"
Again, my mother's smile took in the whole group.
"You're all
welcome!" she said. "God bless you."
Then we walked across to the house,
with empty tray and pitchers, and back inside.
Soon, the men moved on,
and I never saw them again.
The only explanation my mother ever gave me,
for that strange
and wonderful day, was that I
"remember always to entertain strangers, for
by doing so,
you may entertain angels, without knowing."
Then, with a
mysterious smile, she went about the rest of the day.
I don't remember what we ate for supper, that night.
I just
know it was served by an angel.
© Jaye
Lewis, 2000
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