Blessed Be the Beans

I was 17 and alone in Washington, D.C. My job as a stenographer for the Veterans Administration had brought me to the nation's capital after high school graduation. It was during World War II and housing was at a premium. I was sharing a room with another girl in a rooming house and eating in the cheapest restaurants I could find.

My plan was to work a year, then go to college. I pinched every penny I could, putting away as much money as possible.

When Thanksgiving approached, most of the other girls in the rooming house were either invited out or decided to splurge on a lavish meal. I chose to eat by myself in my room. As odd as it sounds, I love baked beans, so I purchased a can of beans and a tin of cookies for my feast.

I wasn't completely alone as I ate my meager dinner. Just as I turned on the radio, a preacher said, "If all you have to eat for Thanksgiving dinner is beans, and your neighbor has turkey, don't envy him. Thank God for your beans. You can get as full on beans as you can on turkey!" I couldn't believe what I just heard.

As I ate that lonely Thanksgiving dinner of beans and cookies, I never thought that one day I would be serving turkey and all the trimmings for my extended family of 15. More than 30 years later, I still make a point of serving a bowl of baked beans at Thanksgiving to remind me that God does provide. It's just like that long-ago preacher wisely said. You can get just as full on beans as you can on turkey!

Treasured Ornament

In 1998, with five children and another one on the way, our family budget was tight. I explained to my children that the best Christmas present is Jesus being born into the world?better than anything my husband and I could buy for them. Still, part of me didn't want Christmas morning to be a big letdown for them when they didn't find many presents under the tree.

When it was time to decorate the tree, the children helped fill its branches with treasured ornaments and decorations made by small hands. We couldn't decide what the crowning touch should be. Should we tie a big bow or make a paper angel to put on top? Maybe, I told the children, we could get one of those fancy stars that lights up if they didn't cost too much.

Later that afternoon, six-year-old Joseph brought me a small package wrapped in plain white paper with the word JOY carefully printed on the outside. "I made something for you. It can go on our tree," he said.

Inside I found a star shape cut out of used sandpaper with JESUS printed on it in pencil. My eyes blurred with tears. My son's ornament was much more appropriate than my idea of a store bought star. Jesus was born in a stable and worked as a carpenter. His life wasn't one of glitter. And he made a point of getting close to people, reaching out in love. Joseph's handmade star has become one of my most treasured Christmas decorations.

?Sarah Swartz

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