Undeserved Gifts
If the good Lord’s willing and the creeks don’t rise, Ray and I will sleep in our own bed tonight. We were at the Texas Home School Coalition convention in Arlington over the weekend. As we drove east yesterday, I caught a few words on a billboard on I-30 as we hurried past: “Exit 124,” “where the locals eat,” and “1 1/2 miles.”
Since we were both more than ready for a meal, I pulled off at Exit 124, guessed that we should turn left at the end of the exit, and followed my nose, while Ray Googled “where the locals eat” and found the Pioneer Cafe. Soon we came to a vibrant town square in a place called Sulfur Springs and navigated to the Pioneer Cafe.
The theme and decor were definitely Texan.
The lady at the check-out just inside the door said we could sit wherever we wanted. We picked table 16. The menu told us: “If you have a problem with your food, let your server know. If you have a problem with your server, let Barbara know.”
We chose a plate lunch, otherwise known as a meat and two. I understand meat and two, but I’d love to know the history behind plate lunch, ’cause most of the lunches I’ve ever eaten came on a plate — and besides, my “two” were in bowls.
Like I said, the decor was definitely Texan. This is a portion of what was on the wall behind our table.
I perused it and the wall opposite it — which would have been identical if it hadn’t been different Texan stuff — and saw three objects that honored Jesus. This was my favorite.
The banner outside the Pioneer Cafe claimed: “We just taste good . . .”   Our meat was roast beef, roasted all night; and our two were black-eyed peas and green beans. The banner was right.
After lunch we walked across the street and I tried to get a photo of the front, in between customers walking out the door and cars passing by on the street.  As I snapped, I began to hear a horn blow. Then I heard a man calling out, “Hey, lady!” Then, just out of sight of this photo, . . .
. . . I saw an older gentleman standing by a very old, beat-up car. He was holding out to me a collection of what looked like photographs. I crossed the street toward him and he smiled and gave them to me: three identical postcards of the town square with its historic courthouse and veterans memorial. I thanked him warmly for my gift and he smiled — no words, just a smile.
As Ray and I walked away to take a stroll around that beautiful town square with its historic courthouse and veterans memorial — which I hope to show you tomorrow — I felt joyful and grateful for my undeserved gift and a sense of wonder at receiving it.
An undeserved gift. Come to think of it, I’ve never received any other kind.
Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above,
coming down from the Father of lights,
with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.
James 1:17
AMEN!!! I know I do not deserve anything I have!