MIRAGE IN THE LUMBER-YARD?

           We had no money.  Our family of four were living in an old, faded shell of a house, originally built for emergency wartime housing, but now used for storage by the Brokenhead First Nations, owners of the Wa WaTaik lumber-yard in Scanterbury, Manitoba, about an hour north of Winnipeg.  The Chief had offered it to us as the only housing available for our term as volunteers with Mennonite Central Committee for an agricultural economic development project.  Now the project was over, and we were still there, with little income.
     It tickled my funny bone to live in a lumber-yard, locked in every night.  A sense of humour usually helps in missionary projects.  And we had had many a glowing night at the weekly Bible study held at our home - oops!  Don't forget to unlock the gate! - with our dear friends from the Scanterbury House of Prayer Gospel Church which we attended on the reserve.  No one cared about the décor or the peeling paint.  Nor was it an embarrassment to our children at that point, as most of the reserve children lived in humble surroundings.
     I did not realize just how much it was all getting to me: the outdated orange shag rug, the hideous lamps, the weathered brown sofa, the hopelessness, the tedium, the lack of money.
     My husband Rien and I had begun ministering at a street mission on Main Street north, the roughest area in Winnipeg. We buttered buns, made soup, prepared sandwiches, washed dishes, led music, preached and loved the people.  We became friends with Mrs. Whyte, the "Mother Theresa of Main Street", who ran the mission.  She was a tireless worker and generous giver with a heart full of love for the needy.  One day, she asked us to drive with her to help her daughter, who was moving.
     And that is when God showered us with blessings, and gave me a personal gift to lift my spirits and show me His intimate love for me.
     Mrs. Whyte's daughter was, apparently, a clone of her mother.  She gave us a television set, some household items, and - oh, was it really before my eyes, or  just a mirage? - a pretty table with four matching chairs.
     Oh, my excitement!  The hexagonal glass and wood table with its four chairs was not expensive. It might not have attracted notice in a lavish furniture store.  But to me it represented God's very personal caring.  He  knew my lifelong interest in décor and love of pretty things.  He knew the contrast between our present circumstances and my girlhood dreams of a home with pretty furniture.  More than anything, it was a gift of hope, a sign of God's ability to do the impossible.  It was His personal love-gift to me in His perfect timing.
     The table attracted people immediately.  Polished and given a centerpiece of a frilly pink African violet, it first drew the ladies at the Bible study, then the children playing board games.  When my Dutch in-laws came to visit, they sat at an elegant dining table in the front room by the window, rather than at our tiny kitchen table which would seat only four.
     Rien never really liked the table, because it wobbled and sometimes spilled his coffee.  HE would never have made a table which wobbled.
     But the gift wasn't really for him.

Psalm 23: The Lord is my Shepherd.
                       I shall not want.