Three Cans of Soup (17 page)

“Thanks,” Bill said, outwardly smiling but inwardly wanting to cry.

For the next few days Bill’s attention was focused on preparing his sermon and other details for the Christmas Eve service. They had even put together a small choir to sing a medley of Christmas carols. They had talked about having a living manger scene, but wiser heads prevailed.

As Bill was typing his sermon, Chris was the last one to leave the apartment. Chris and Bill had never really connected. Chris was so uptight, always puffing on his pipe, holding it like he had pictured Dr. Freud, and trying to make wise comments. Only in Chris’s case wisdom was a reach. “Sorry you can’t join us in Midland for Christmas,” Chris said as he carried his numerous bags to the front door.

“God, Chris, you are only going to be gone a week.”

“Oh, I like to travel with everything I might need.”

Bill looked at the large bag Chris was carefully laying over his suitcases. Inside the bag was a beautiful pulpit robe that Chris’s family had given him. Most students could hardly afford a suit, let alone a pulpit robe. “You are taking your pulpit robe. Are you going to preach while you are there?” Bill asked, more in jest than seriousness.

“You never know. My home church just might ask me to preach. You can never be unprepared. I even have typed out a sermon just in case. How is your sermon coming?”

“Fine,” Bill said, and returned to his slow typing.

Chris began the process of hauling his bags down to his car. Bill thought about helping, but he was just not in the mood. As Chris gathered up his briefcase, a beautiful leather briefcase, again something most students only dreamed about having, Chris paused and looked at Bill.

“You know something I have always wanted to do over Christmas?”

“No, what?” Bill replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“Well at the Methodist Church downtown they serve Christmas dinner to people who have nowhere to go. A lot of transients go there. I have always wanted to do that at Christmas. I think it would be nice to do something like that. You know, celebrate the gift of Christ by giving a gift.”

“Oh really?” was all Bill could muster and then returned to his typing. Then he added, “I am sorry, Chris. Merry Christmas! I hope you have a safe trip. Don’t worry about me; I will be exhausted after the Christmas Eve service. I am looking forward to going to the dinner at the Wesley Center.”

Chris smiled and said, “Just a thought. You have yourself a Merry Christmas.” Chris turned and left.

The apartment seemed larger than it had ever been. For a moment Bill was a little annoyed at the suggestion that he would go and work on Christmas Day. He could have worked at the grocery store but had asked for a week off months in advance. Oh well, Bill had a sermon to finish.

The weather turned chilly as Bill made his way north to Murray. The service was planned at seven p.m. They would light candles, sing carols, read the Christmas story and listen to a short sermon. It was not the same as the bathrobes, Italian dinner, and light tour but it would have to do. Bill was excited about sharing Christmas Eve at the church. He had been gone the year before. Actually, he had mixed feelings that evening. One part of him wanted to be home and the other part was excited that he was leading worship on Christmas Eve.

The little church seemed to shine that evening. The attendance had grown to forty but that night the church was packed with almost seventy people. The singing was enthusiastic, the decorations were beautiful in spite of being hand-made and looking amateurish. It was the thought that counted and everyone had pitched in to make the evening inspirational.

As Bill stood at the back of the church wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, Sam and Juanita passed by him, paused and indicated that they wanted to say something to him.

“Say Bill, we know that you need to get on back to Fort Worth, but if you have a little time we would like you to stop over at the house for a moment.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Bill thought for a moment. It was almost three hours back to Fort Worth and it was already almost eight o’clock in the evening. “Why not,” he thought to himself. “Sam, thank you, I will be right over.”

After the last person had left, Bill turned off the lights and closed the door and walked the block and a half over to Sam and Juanita’s place. Their house was lit up with decorations and he could hear music coming from inside. As he got to the door, Juanita welcomed him with a kiss. Inside their living room, right in front of a huge Christmas tree, Bill saw most of the congregation. As Bill walked in they all shouted, “Merry Christmas.” Bill could not believe it.

Sam stepped forward and spoke. “Bill, we just did not want you to get away without knowing how much we all appreciate you. You have given this little church new life and we really appreciate it. We have some things here for you, not much, but the thought is a lot.” On a small table were gifts, some wrapped and some not. Bill just stood looking.

“Well I can’t believe it!” Emily said. “He can’t think of a word to say!!” and laughed. Everyone laughed and approached Bill, giving him hugs, kisses on the cheek, and handshakes. “Well, why don’t you open your gifts?” Juanita added.

There were many nice gifts. As Bill opened Emily’s gift he could not believe it. It was a leather briefcase. She looked at him and smiled. “You are going to be something someday. I want you to go in style.”

Sam and Juanita, along with Mrs. Tyndale and a few others, handed him a gift certificate for a new suit from Lazarus Department Store in Fort Worth. “We are getting tired of that old blue thing you wear. We were in Fort Worth and this should get you a nice suit. If it is more than this, just let us know.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Bill said. And he meant it.

Suzie, Peter, Joey, and Charlotte gave him homemade preserves and a huge bag of peanuts. The Tucks gave him a pen and pencil set. Mabel Simmons gave him one of her special cakes. Sam and Mary Lou gave him homemade bread and a cake. Sam whispered in his ear, “You know about Mabel’s cakes, this one is fine.”

After all the gifts were opened, Juanita invited everyone to help themselves to the refreshment. As Bill was stuffing his mouth with cheese, crackers, and little sausages, he noticed Mary standing to one side. She was holding a crumpled bag in one hand. Bill walked over to her.

“Mary, I want to thank you for your invitation. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

“Here, this is for you. Merry Christmas,” Mary said as she handed the bag to Bill.

Bill slowly opened the bag and looked inside. Inside were three cans of Campbell’s soup: a can each of chicken and rice, chicken noodle, and vegetable beef. Bill looked at Mary, who was standing off to the side smiling. Bill slowly took the cans of soup out of the bag. “Mary, I don’t know what to say,” Bill said. “You really need this more than I.”

“No, you need to know that we really care for you, I really care for you. I have watched how you handled Emily and how you forgave her and even became her friend. Bill, you have a real gift.” With that Mary stretched up to Bill and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

As Bill drove home that evening he had never felt so close to the people of the church or to God as he did that evening. The new briefcase sat beside him. Inside his pocket was the certificate for a brand new suit. Yet, the gift he could not stop thinking about was the three cans of soup.

Three cans of soup
, Bill thought.
She is giving up three meals for me.
It was like the gift of a widow long ago that had put two coins into the offering in a Temple, unnoticed by everyone except a poorly-dressed Jewish rabbi standing to the side. Jesus turned to his disciples and told them that she among all had given the greatest gift that day. Everyone else had given out of their abundance but she had given all she had. This gift was like that gift in so many ways.

As Bill drove home that evening, he determined what he would do on Christmas morning. Angels come in all forms and who would have thought that Chris would have been an angel sent to help Bill. He would get up and go to the Methodist Church and serve Christmas dinner to others. It would be one of the best Christmases he would ever celebrate.

Jerry was pushing on Bill’s leg when he was brought back suddenly into the present moment. Jerry needed to go outside. Bill got up from his stuffed chair, walked over to the back door and let Jerry out into the backyard. Jerry bounded around and then quickly got down to business. The weather was crisp with the smell of snow in the air. After a few moments, Bill let Jerry back into the house. Jerry was obviously happy to be back in the warmth. He shook his whole body and then bounded off to fetch a toy. Jerry seemed to sense that something had changed. He brought the old stuffed dog toy in the shape of a football to Bill, who threw it across the room. Jerry bounded and leaped as he caught the football and brought it back, tail wagging.

“Jerry, you and I have some work to do. We need to clean up this mess and get these decorations up. Then I have something to do.”

The rest of the afternoon, Bill worked feverishly putting up the artificial tree, placing the ornaments, lights, and other decorations on the tree. He put the Santa and his sleigh on a table. He and Sharon had bought this elaborate wooden replica of Santa and his reindeer several years ago. For Bill it brought back memories of those wonderful Christmas Eves in Oregon.

Walking into the kitchen, Bill fixed Jerry some dinner. Taking out the phone book, Bill looked up the number of the Second Street Mission. During his time at Central Avenue Bill had referred several transients to that mission. Located on Second Street just off the railroad tracks, the mission was in what most considered a less than desirable section of town. Salvador Ramirez and his wife Maria had run the mission for several decades. Salvador’s wavy white hair and tanned face gave him a distinguished look even though he was in his late seventies. The mission had been his dream. He had been born in San Antonio, Texas and educated as a teacher. He had taken a job in St. Louis and then after only a few years had come to Maysville. Maria had been born in Kansas City and had met Sal when he was in St. Louis. Sal gave up teaching and instead acted on a dream and passion of his. He started the mission.

After several years, the original mission moved from its first location to its present location on Second Street. The building that now housed the mission had originally been a department store. Now the first floor consisted of a large dining room that also served as a general-purpose room. Next to it was a professional kitchen donated by the local Kiwanis Club. Several side rooms functioned as offices, meeting rooms, and were used by volunteer counselors, physicians, and dentists who occasionally donated time to the mission. The second floor had been remodeled to house both individuals and families. Although it was not the best accommodations, it was warm and cozy. The third floor was used for storage. Many years ago a grant from an anonymous friend of the Mission had provided funds to remodel part of the third floor into a nice apartment for Sal and Maria. The Mission provided beds for homeless families and transients, a kitchen that served meals each day, and a spirit of love and welcome that Bill had seen infrequently in his life. He and other pastors had taken turns volunteering as spiritual counselors. However, because of his own problems and schedule, Bill had only been to the mission a few times.

Bill had also noted while he was at Central that Benny Lewis was especially hostile toward the mission. He wondered why, but then Benny was hostile toward just about everything. He did remember how Benny had continued to criticize the last pastor for spending too much time at the mission when he could have been building up Central. Although Central still provided some funds to the mission, Benny had been able to get the support reduced to minimal.

Bill dialed the number of the mission. Maria’s sweet voice filled the receiver.

“Maria, this is Bill Thompson, Reverend Bill Thompson. I don’t know if you remember me but I used to come down to the mission from time to time.”

Maria paused for a moment and then cheerfully said, “Reverend Bill, how nice to hear from you. I remember you. You were at Central Avenue, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was,” Bill said, and ended it there.

Maria continued, “Sal and I were just talking about you the other day.” There was just a hint of a Spanish accent in her words. “We were saying that what happened to you was so unfair. How are you doing?”

“Well, better today than yesterday,” Bill answered. Then he added, “Well, I know it has been a long time, but. . .” Bill hesitated and then continued, “Why I am calling is to ask you, are you serving a Thanksgiving meal this evening?”

“Well, actually we served our main meal at noon today. But there are leftovers that we have made into sandwiches and soup for the evening meal. Do you have someone who needs a meal?” Maria asked.

“Well, actually yes. I was wondering if you needed some help tonight serving dinner. I would like to join you and help out if I can.”

“That would be wonderful! We would love to have you come down here and help out. I make wonderful turkey soup and we still have some turkey for sandwiches and I have also used some of the turkey to make some enchiladas. Just come on down. When can we expect you?”

“Let me put on my coat and I will be there shortly. Thanks, Maria.”

“Well, thank you.”

Sal and Maria never asked questions. That was one of their true gifts. People arrived at the mission with all kinds of stories and most did not want to share their pasts. Over the years Sal and Maria had developed the ability to just accept people as they were and where they were.

Bill put on his coat, gathered his gloves, gave Jerry a pat on the head, and headed out. The Mission was actually not far from where they were now living. In truth, the mission was worlds apart from most of Maysville.

Maysville had a thriving business district, had several factories, and some very nice homes, especially west and north of the community. Yet, the old town, where the original town site had been, was run down. You could buy a cheap thrill, a lady for the night, or drown your sorrows in one of the many bars along First Avenue, East. The Second Street Mission was an oasis in a dry land. Its “Welcome All” neon light was a huge contrast to the buildings around it. The community and churches supported the mission, some because of commitment and others because of guilt. Most people knew that such a place as First and Second Street existed, but carefully avoided the area. In many ways the area could have been on another planet.