"Modern poverty is not the poverty that was blest in the Sermon on the Mount." — George Bernard Shaw
Ms Stewart was very near despairing as she looked out of the window because she had no food and because she had only 25 cents left. She was hungry. Without moving her lips, she spoke to her God. She said, "Lord, show me that way to my next meal".
Immediately through the window there appeared a little boy. She knew that he lived in the neighbourhood and that his name was Jimmy. He was walking on two tin cans that he had bent so that they clamped onto his shoes.
She knocked on the glass loudly to get his attention. She beckoned with both hands, and he then clanked his way up to her door.
"Hello there, young man", she said.
"How are you, Ms Stewart?", he inquired.
"I'm fine. I was wonderin' if you would like to earn a quarter?"
"Yes ma'am! What do you want me to do?"
Pointing toward the yard, she said, "Look at that old five gallon paint bucket over there. I want you to take my hammer and screwdriver and knock 'bout a hundred holes in the bottom of it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"After you do that I want you to bend that can so that instead of bein' round, the openin' at the top gets to be kinda oval like an egg. Can you do that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Then I want you to go down to the canal." As she spoke, she walked away and came back with a length of rope. She said, "Here, tie this piece of clothesline 'round the handle; and, from the bridge on Dixie Highway, I want you to let the bucket down into the water real easy-like 'til it fills up with water. Now this is the real important part: make sure that the bucket's openin' is facin' 'way from this house. Then tie the rope 'round the bridge."
"Yes ma'am. Is that all?" Jimmy was starting to think he had made a bad deal. She sure wanted a lot for a quarter.
"Now when you come back from school this afternoon, I want you to stop at the bridge. Lift the bucket a little and let the water drain out of it, 'cause if you don't it will be too heavy for you. Then pull it all the way up and, God willin', it should have somethin' in it. Whatever that be, you bring' it back here. Do you think you can do all that?"
"Yes ma'am." Shortly thereafter Ms Stewart saw God's plan for her dinner merrily kicking rocks as he went down the road toward school with her bucket in his hand.
At four o'clock that afternoon Jimmy returned with no cans on his feet, but with the five gallon bucket one-fourth of the way filled with what locally was called "spring crayfish" (in that particular canal they seemed unable to swim against the forceful westward current, the reason for turning the mouth of the bucket eastward). Ms Stewart met him at the door. With one hand she handed him the quarter while she eagerly took the bucket with the other.
"Thanks, Ms Stewart."
"Thank you, young man."
Not long afterwards the entire catch was boiling in a pot well seasoned with salt and black and cayenne pepper. Ms Stewart took a seat at the table. She began the blessing of the meal that God had set before her with a special prayer of gratitude for the young man she had taught to catch crayfish. She had done a lot with a little.
This is a true story about an old lady's faith in both her God and a little boy. It happened 45 years ago. Later that week, Jimmy learned that Ms Stewart had no money for food. He began catching crayfish for her, free of charge, twice a week. He really liked the pugnacious old lady. Unfortunately, there are many in her situation today.
[The writer is a prisoner on death row in the United States. His childhood autobiography is available in booklet form for $16, including postage. Every cent raised will go towards defending his life. Please make cheques payable to the Brandon Astor Jones Defence Account and post to 10 Palara Place, Dee Why NSW 2099. Donations to the Brandon Astor Jones Defence Account may be made at any Commonwealth Bank, account No. 2127 1003 7638.]