Homeless

Today as I was reading praying through the church's prayer list one situation triggered a memory.  On the list is a couple who have lost their home.  The circumstances are not defined as to why but they are living in their car.  The folks are on a waiting list that is for 7 months.  This week the temperatures are hovering in the single digits F and - C.  I cannot imagine the discomfort they must be in during this time.  My prayer is that shelter has been provided for them.

Which brings me to the memory.  Seventy five or so years ago my parents home burned to the ground.  It was a house on a farm they were renting.  While I never lived in the house I am certain it was the typical wooden structure of the time.  No insulation other than maybe some wall paper to slow down the wind gusts that inevitably flowed through the lapboard cracks.  A coal oil/kerosene stove that was used for both heating and cooking would have been in the kitchen.

Momma would recount the story many times during her life.  She had her two daughters at home that day, a 3 year old and a 7 year old.  Mom walked into the kitchen in time to see the reservoir of the stove spill fuel and then flames across the floor curtains above the cook stove on fire.  The burners had flared up and set the curtains on fire.  The sisters had not noticed the fire till it was too late.  She turned, grabbing the youngest daughter and fled to a safe distance and sat my sister down near my oldest sister.  "Don't move" she said she shouted as she ran back into the flaming house.  She was only able to grab the drawer with all the important papers and maybe an arm full of clothing.  That was the extent of what was left except for the iron skillet that is now in my son's home.

It was 1943 when this happened.  The world was at war.  The world was still climbing out of a deep financial depression.  My folks were just poor dirt farmers.  Most of the people in the community were, likewise, dirt farmers.  What were my parents to do?  Everything was gone.  I speculate but knowing the situation there was probably no money to replace anything.  My grandparents homes did not have room for my folks long term.  That is when Jack and Florene stepped into the picture.

The Johnsons had 5 kids of their own.  The house they were renting was by 1940 standards very large with unused rooms upstairs.  They invited Momma, Daddy and my two sisters to live with them.  People in the community who were just dirt farmers, too, brought items for the folks.  It was close to Christmas so a few even brought spare ornaments for the tree.  People reaching into their own shallow possessions to share with my folks.  No greater love than this.  I was naked, hungry, without shelter and you provided.

Mom and Dad never forgot the generosity of the community.  I have seen them borrow money to help folks in need.  Generous to a fault.  But what an example for those who knew them.  Those Christmas ornaments adorned Mom's Christmas tree till well into the new century.  And the story of how they came into our family was retold each year.  I can only hope what little we are able to donate for the homeless can have such a lasting impact on someone's life.

In peace and love,
Janice

Correction:  After conferring with my older sisters that were present for the said house fire I had to change the actual circumstances.