A small town with a big heart
Ten a.m. on Thanksgiving Day. My kitchen was busy with chopping, mixing, and baking. There was much to prepare. Amidst the frenzy that accompanies a holiday, I had forgotten cranberry sauce and marshmallows for the big feast that afternoon. Friends and family were coming at 11 a.m.
I stepped outside my front door. The morning was peaceful. Leaves rustled on the trees as the wind blew. The air had a slight chill in it, reminding me of the beauty of autumn. But there was no time to enjoy the splendor of the day. There was work to be done.
I hurried into my vehicle and drove to the grocery store. It was closed
I murmured to myself, “I should have remembered my list yesterday. What was I thinking? Everything will be ruined.”
In Syracuse there are three convenience stores. Two of them were closed.
“Not very convenient,” I muttered selfishly.
I drove to the third convenience store. They were open. Once inside, I asked the person behind the counter if they had any cranberry sauce. (I know I was reaching but I was desperate.)
“No,” she said.
“But I have some at my house.”
My eyes widened. “What?” Surely I did not hear her correctly.
“If you would like it, just drive to my house. I will call my daughter to get it for you. And she can meet you at the door.”
I replied meekly, “Thank you.”
I drove to her home in a state of shock. I picked up the cranberry sauce from her daughter.
“Thank you so much.” I was humbled.
When I left her house that morning, I was suddenly filled with peace, gentleness, and joy. What a gracious gesture. I remembered how thankful I am to have my home in Syracuse, Kansas.