Entertaining An Angel

[Debbie]

Written by Brian Jett©

This is true story as told to me by my wife...she was the woman in this story! She told me it at least five times, and I have attempted to describe via written prose the extraordinary events of that special day!

It was just another ordinary day as she performed her tasks at a large university as an administrator working with Hall Monitors and residents. It wasn't uncommon for students to pop in to say a welcomed "Hello" or the like.

This particular day would bring something entirely new her way. As the workday neared its end, she sat at her desk as she completed some paper work. She heard a sheepish giggle and looked up startled by what she saw.

This was not one of the many students that would drop in routinely to ask her a question about dorm life or complain about a given Hall Monitor. Standing there at the door of her office was a very short black man who, by most standards, would be considered unseemly to look at as he clearly had been born with birth defects.

He was unusually small and his face was deformed as he stood holding a cane. Obviously his eyesight was impaired as well. Trying to keep her composure she asked, "Hello, can I help you with something?"

He smiled and replied, "No Ma'am, I just like to come to campus to make friends but most people won't talk to me because I think they are scared of me by the way I look."

Trying to be tactful, she replied, "Not at all! I am not scared of you. You look just fine to me." He giggled again as he placed his backpack on the floor. "Are you having a problem or is there something going on at your dorm that I can help you with?," she asked.

"No Ma'am. You see, I am not a student. I carry this backpack around with me so that the other students will talk with me and be my friend but I don't think it's working very well because no one wants to talk with me very long. I come to campus because there are alot of people here and I want to make friends."

As she looked at him, her eyes began to tear up but she desperately tried to hold her emotions back for fear that he would think she felt sorry for him. The conversation went on as he told her about himself and she told him more about her life and the things that had occurred while dealing with students.

His laugh was infectious and his childlike innocence was so delightful. Before she knew it, she realized that she no longer saw him in the same light as she first did. "Well, I think I've wasted enough of your time so I better leave. You have better things to do than talk with me."

As he reached down to the floor to pick up his backpack, she began to tear up again but this time the tears came not from her feeling sorry for him, but from the respect she had for his being so incredibly brave. Holding back the tears she stated, "You are one of the most kind and beautiful individuals that I've ever met. Promise me that you will come back and visit again as I enjoy talking with you. Do you promise?," she asked.

He smiled and callowly looked down for a moment. "Yes, I promise I will but I have a hard time climbing the stairs. Can I ask you a question Ma'am?" She stood up, as she wanted to shake his hand before he left and replied, "Of course you can. What do you want to know?"

He stood very still as his eyes turned her direction. "Did you really mean what you just said about me?," he asked. Without hesitation she quickly replied, "I've never said anything more true in all my life and I mean that!" He positioned his cane and began to walk out of the door but suddenly stopped and looked her way again.

"I can't see you very good, but for the first time in my life, I believe someone. Thanks for talking to me and being my friend. I'll be back, I believe in someone now!" As he walked slowly out of her office he giggled, smiled, and uttered very softly....."I believe."

"Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." Hebrews 13:2

[Debbie]

and you just never know....



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 "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.

[Ann]

Barbiedeb

These are beautiful stories. It is so true that such random acts of kindness can be as rewarding for us as for the person we help.