Opening the door

Hilda J. Born

My husband and I decided to try to help our old friend and her daughters. First, we would offer them the use of a vehicle, either our car or our pick-up truck during their stay locally.

"If they want to move the extra furniture with the pick-up, I'd be glad to help them put it into the elevator and load and unload the truck," Jake suggested.

"Okay. Let's go and see what we can do for them," I urged.

"Peg likes doughnuts," Jake added. "I'll stop to pick up a dozen of her favourites on the way."

Our hearts were heavy, too. We hated to see Rosa leave her comfortable apartment after enjoying it for only three brief years. Maybe by helping both Rosa and her daughters, we could all feel a little better about this deteriorating situation.

Clutching the box of sweet-smelling doughnuts, we walked up the outer steps of the building. Eagerly we punched the familiar numbers of Rosa's third floor apartment. All was quiet. We punched again. Still no answer.

We were sure these ladies were in because we'd glanced at them through the window when we drove up. Just to doublecheck, we stepped outside for another look. Yes, the sheer white curtain was still billowing out of the open patio door.

We tried again and again--not only the door but also the telephone. Finally it sank in. We were not wanted here.

At last, a voice briefly stated, "We want no treats and need no help."

Stunned and silent, we drove home slowly.

Then I thought of Jesus' persistent knocking at my life. His arms are full of good things for my family and me. No matter how eager His entreaties, I often crustily resist.

Thank You, Jesus, for waiting patiently at my door with Your good gifts. Help me to accept them graciously.

Hilda J. Born is a member of Central Heights MB Church in Abbotsford, B.C.