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A small town with a big heart

By Michele Boy

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. 

cranberry sauceI 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. 

I sighed.
“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.


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Last Updated March 20, 2008
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