The Spanish Man

The Spanish Man

By Sheryl C. S. Johnson

Granddaughter

The scriptures tell us that those who have charity will be found on the right hand of God. I have never known of another who had more charity than Barbara. She had so many come to her door because they knew they would find food, love, and even shelter at her house. Every time I see a welcome mat I think of her. Every time I meet a guest in my sitting room and don’t offer them a bite to eat I wonder if she’s looking down on me, sad at my manners. If I strive a lifetime I may still never know the level of charity she practiced.

On one particular afternoon as we sat on the shady porch, sipping our drinks and rocking, a man pulled up and approached the porch. He was Hispanic with an accent. His English was good but Barbara couldn’t understand him at all so I acted as interpreter. She knew him. He’d come to tell her of a friend’s need. His friend, a female, had benefited from Barbara’s help before. Since then his friend had lived her life in such a way, making so many poor choices, that she found herself needing clothing and food once more. Barbara was upset that after helping her before the woman hadn’t picked herself up and made a good life. I was surprised when she refused the man, telling him she wasn’t going to help that time. She was really mad at this lady for not providing for herself after so much help had been rendered previously. I turned him down politely, though he could understand Barbara himself. The next day I had to step over a box of food and clothing on the porch. The man was coming to pick it up. She couldn’t stand to think of someone suffering.

She couldn’t help herself. I loved that about her. She wondered if she would go to heaven. I knew she would. She was so much like Christ. He must have walked beside her in life, though she wouldn’t admit it.