Homeless man Sam

It's been a crazy week. The sorta crazy that makes my head spin in a thousand directions. The crazy that finds Chris in class every night and all day today. One where my kids started school after Christmas break and need to remember their routine. And the extra splash of Mammaw's birthday last Wednesday, the day that left me in tears faster then I realized it could happen.

That's the crazy I'm talking about. In the midst of it all, I convinced my kids this morning that going to the grocery store would not be the end of the world. While driving, they were amazingly content reading books to each other. In their contentment, I found myself remembering. One vividly strong memory flooded me.

I was standing in the dining room of Papaw and Mamaw's house. Sam was at the door, again. It was lunch time. Mamaw scurried about making a sandwhich, getting some fruit, and a drink. She stopped at the pantry on the way to the door and slipped in a swiss cake roll. Sam always told her thank you. She always asked God to bless him.

"Mamaw, why does Sam come by for food?" I asked. I was old enough to know that was not usual, but young enough to have no answer on my own. "Because he is hungry", she replied.

She didn't tell me he was homeless. I never recall her telling me that he was an alcoholic. I don't really even remember her grumbling, except when he came at a different time. Although, my bet is that's because she didn't have it ready and she hated to make people wait. Even Sam.

Mamaw was always busy. And my Papaw worked harder and more hours then I will ever begin to know. Yet, she still had time to make Sam a lunch. Although, I do not know what else they did for Sam, I have memories of Papaw going out to check on him, if they didn't see him for a few days. Sam had to know these were people who loved him. Sam knew that knocking on their door, was safe.

I pulled in the grocery store this morning. Grateful for the money to buy food. Grateful for the crazy life that I call mine. Grateful for Grandparents and Parents who made loving others the normal way of life. No questions. No strings. No should have's or judgements. Just a simple brown bag that had food instead of alcohol. That contained a swiss cake roll. In hindsight, I never saw either of my Grandparents eat one of those. Yet they always had them.

Always.

Love God. Love others. Simply because God asked us to.