I know its not Christmas but this is a good story any time:
The Big Wheel
In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75
cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three
months to seven years; their sister was two.
Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.
Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would
scramble to hide under their beds.
He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries.
Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no
food either.
If there was a welfare system in effect in Southern Indiana at that time, I
certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand
new and then put on my best homemade dress. Loaded them into the rusty old
51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.
The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small
town. No luck.
The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to
convince whoever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything.
I had to have a job.
Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town was
an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It
was called the Big Wheel.
An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window
from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard
shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and
I could start that night. I raced home and called the teenager down the
street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on
my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the
kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so
we made a deal.>
That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers, we all
thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel.
When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home
with one dollar of my tip money--fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage.
The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began
to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every
morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found
four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, and
just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.
I made a deal with the local service station. In exchange for his mounting
the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot
longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough.
Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the
kids.
I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys.
Then hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to
deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches
on top of patches on the boys' pants and soon they would be too far gone to
repair.
On Christmas Eve the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel.
These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.
A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were
dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around
and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home
before the sun came up.
When it was time for me to go home at seven o'clock on Christmas morning I
hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn't wake up before I managed
to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the
tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by
the dump.) It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there appeared to
be some dark shadows in the car-or was that just a trick of the night?
Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I
reached the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then my jaw
dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with
boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver's side door,
crumbled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.
Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was whole case of
little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of
shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes.
There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an
enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was
pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was whole bag
of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and
one beautiful little doll.
As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most
amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will
never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung
out at the Big Wheel truck stop....
THE POWER OF PRAYER! . I believe that God only gives three answers to
prayer:
1. "Yes!"
2. "Not yet."
3. "I have something better in mind."
God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar. You may be going through
a tough time right now but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that
you cannot imagine.
