Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively. One particular day Brother Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me.

I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.

I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Brother Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

“Hello Barry, how are you today?”

“H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus’ admirin’ them peas……sure look good.”

“They are good, Barry. How’s your Ma?”

“Fine. Gittin’ stronger alla’time.”

“Good. Anything I can help you with”

“No, Sir. Jus’ admirin’ them peas.”

“Would you like to take some home?”

“No, Sir. Got nuthin’ to pay for ‘em with.”

“Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?”

“All I got’s my prize aggie – best taw around here.”

“Is that right? Let me see it.”

“Here ’tis. She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?”

“Not ‘zackley . . . but, almost.”

“Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red taw.”

“Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: “There are two other boys like him in our community; all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn’t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps.”

I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Utah but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering.

Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Brother Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.

Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an Army uniform and the other two wore short haircuts, dark suits and white shirts, obviously potential or returned missionaries.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband’s casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. “This is an amazing coincidence,” she said. “Those three young men, that just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim ‘traded’ them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size… they came to pay their debt. We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,” she confided, “but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.”

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, magnificently shiny, red marbles.

In each of our lives, if we just keep on living, there comes a time where the struggles and confusion of everything begins to weigh us down. Our shoulders begin to slump under the weight of trying to carry the things of life. The book of Hebrews tells that we are to lay aside every weight and sin that so easily besets us. Now you are saying, easier said than done. Well, stick with me for just a little while and we will see.

Some of the things of life that weigh us down are family problems, work, health, and finances. They can become heavy weights that will press us down. We begin to feel like we are drowning or we feel like that lady in the commercial that said, “I have fallen and I can’t get up.” We find ourselves saying, “I’m under all of this and I can’t get out.” Our thoughts begin to flip and flop, who am I, where am I, how did I get into this situation and someone please tell me or show me what do I do next?

What do we do next? We surrender all to Jesus. 1 Peter 5:7 tells us to cast our cares upon Him (Jesus) for He cares for us. 1 John 1:9 tells us to confess our sins and repent. We next ask Jesus to come into our lives and be Lord of our lives. We exchange places by getting off the throne of our heart and letting Jesus take up residence on the throne and be in control. We let Him be the driver, the pilot, the teacher, and the banker in our lives.

Scripture tells us that there is a rest for the people of God. We find our rest and relief in Christ. We cease from our labor and turn our family, our job, our health, our finances and any other weight that is holding us down.

While living under and trying to handle these pressures we lose sight on who we are, but in Christ we begin to learn just who God created us to be.

But, I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn’t sure I wanted one. I wasn’t sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy, with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn’t worried about most of my trucker customers, because truckers don’t generally care who buses tables as long as the meat loaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded “truck stop germ;” the pairs of white shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie, so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn’t have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that I really didn’t care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible, when Stevie got through with the table. Our only problem was convincing him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty.

Then, he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus the dishes and glasses onto the cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, which stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was the probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.

That’s why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs syndrome often had heart problems at a early age, so this wasn’t unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50 year old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.

He grinned. “OK, Frannie, what was that all about?” He asked.

“We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.”

“I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?”

Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie’s surgery, then sighed. “Yeah, I’m glad he is going to be OK,” she said, “but I don’t know how he and his mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they’re barely getting by as it is.” Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.

Since I hadn’t had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie, and really didn’t want to replace him, the girls were bussing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand a funny look on her face. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I didn’t get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,” she said, “This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.”

She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed “Something For Stevie.”

“Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,” she said, “so I told him about Stevie and his mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.”

She handed me another paper napkin that had “Something For Stevie” scrawled on it’s outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply “truckers.”

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he’s been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn’t matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work, met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and bussing cart were waiting.

“Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,” I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. “Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me.”

I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession.

We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.

“First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,” I said. I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had “Something for Stevie” printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it.

I turned to his mother. “There’s more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what’s funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.

Best worker I ever hired.

Steps to…Superwoman Freedom!

1. Immediately, if not sooner, give away or burn ‘all’ Superwoman clothing hiding in the back of your closet — including those blue jeans that used to fit . . . in High School!

2. Learn to form the following words, “No!” – “I don’t have time!” – “I have other plans!” – and – “No, there is no age requirement for using the washing machine!”

3. Home-grown refrigerator mold, has no medical value . . . (but keep this to yourself.)

4. Yes, depression is caused by looking at models in magazine ads . . . Reassure yourself ‘no’ they really do not look like that. They are air-brushed, clothes-pinned, girdled, . . . and starving to death. So, have a ‘hot fudge sundae’ on me!

5. Accept it! You cannot — repeat — cannot make ‘everything okay for everyone!’ This is a vital step to this cure. If you hear the words, “No problem. I’ll take care of it. . . ,” be sure they are being utter by another woman.

6. When the boy at the grocery store asks, “Do you need help with these groceries?” . . . the answer is, “YES!” After all, you just spent $137.40 for those 4 small plastic bags of what must be the world’s most precious commodity.

7. If you are not a ‘cook’ . . . admit it! Do not attempt to make ‘coco vin’ for your husband’s boss, just because it happens to have chicken in it. Find the local KFC drive-thru and feel the freedom of the truth.

8. When your temperature is 102 — lie down. Amazing, but when you arise, your house, family, pets and other obligations will have survived . . . (this, too, was a difficult one for me.) If I didn’t do it, it didn’t get done . . .well, then it can wait.

9. Personal Tip: Plastic floral arrangements in the backyard, hold their color for quite a spell, if not placed in the broiling hot sun. ‘But Martha Stewart’s garden is so beautiful.’ Yours would be too if you had a gardening team pruning and fertilizing 24 hours a day . . . Learn to enjoy PICTURES of beautiful flowers.

10. You are not ‘Martha Stewart’. Martha Stewart isn’t even Martha Stewart. So, snap out of it!

11. Expectations are . . . the devil’s way of causing you to ‘really’ feel like a loser! Don’t buy into his ad campaign.

12. When it comes to ’super women’ . . . you rank right up there. When it comes to ‘Superwoman’ . . . it’s a joy killer. Stop trying to do it all yourself! Hey, gals, turn in your cape and pick up . . .
THE WORD!

You think I’m kidding here? I’ve lived it! I’m talking from experience. The ‘queen’ of the Superwomen’ . . . that was me. Do enough . . . be loved. Do enough . . . please God. Gals, you can’t do enough to earn what has already been FREELY given to you. And isn’t that just great!

I’m here to tell you that after many years of this . . . I was more than ready to give up this joy killing way of life. When I found out someone loved me enough to take all these unrealistic burdens from me and replace them with confidence and peace, I was amazed.

It’s true. You are covered by the most magnificent love available to mankind. God loves you so much he allowed His only Son, Jesus, to die on the cross for you and me. Why? Because he knew we couldn’t make it without Him.

“I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.” John 15:5

“These things I have spoken to you that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full.” John 15:11

Superwoman Quits . . .
to become an OWEG!
Ordinary Woman with an Extraordinary God!

Reprinted with permission
©1999 Susan Misty Taggart

http://ordinarywoman.com

Even though I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long as possible, thank you Lord, that I can see. Many are blind.

Even though I huddle in my bed and put off rising, thank you Lord, that I have the strength to rise. There are many who are bedridden.

Even though the first hour of my day is hectic, when socks are lost, toast is burned, tempers are short, my children are so loud, thank you Lord, for my family. There are many who are lonely.

Even though our breakfast table never looks like the pictures in magazines and the menu is at times unbalanced, thank you Lord, for the food we have. There are many who are hungry.

Even though the pile of stinky laundry is high, thank you Lord. We have plenty of nice clothes to wear.

Even though the routine of my job is often monotonous, thank you Lord, for the opportunity to work. There are many who have no job.

Even though I grumble and bemoan my fate from day to day and wish my circumstances were not so modest, Thank you Lord, for life.

Thanksgiving is more than a candied yam
More than a capon or big juicy ham
Thanksgiving is honor to the sacrificial lamb

Thanksgiving is more than cranberry sauce
More than the freshest salad you toss
Thanksgiving is celebrating the work of the cross

Thanksgiving is more than butter and roll
More than dessert served up in a bowl
Thanksgiving is praise that blesses the soul

Thanksgiving is more than tasty food
More than a happy holiday mood
Thanksgiving is a spiritual attitude

Thank you God for giving and giving and giving and giving
And giving . . . Every day!

2 Corinthians 5:17 tells us if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature, old things have passed away and all things have become new. This requires change. God, in the Spirit, has already done the work. How can I say that? Well, the scripture says if we are in Christ we are a new creature, old things have passed away, not passing, but have passed away and all things have become new, not becoming, but become new. So God has already done the work. We must go through the process of conversion. Remember when Jesus spoke to Peter and told him that Satan desired to sift him and Christ said but he had prayed for him and after he was converted he should strengthen his brethren.

When we come to Christ there are a lot of thought patterns, attitudes, desires, and many other things that we have acquired as we have lived our lives. All of that needs to be changed.

We live beneath our privileges when we do not begin to embrace the changes God is working in our lives. We have ideas of who we think we are and how we think we are and when someone tries to show us that this is all wrong, we become offended or angry because we do not want to hear that we need to change.

What is change? Webster says change is to make different, to give a totally different form or appearance, to transform. Scripture tells us in Romans 12:2 “Be not conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. In other words, change your mind.”

We have lived our lives for years being led by our flesh. Now that has to change. We have got to learn how to allow the spirit man to lead us through the power of the Holy Ghost. This amounts to a change that is unfamiliar and even uncomfortable, so we shy away from it. Many of us want to be in charge and will feel like this is giving over control. Not so. The Holy Spirit will only do what you agree to. We always have the control. How? It is because the choice is always left up to us to say yes or no.

As we are looking at the season change and watching the beautiful change of the leaves on the trees and the beautiful change of the sky, we can be thankful we serve a God who loves us not just the way we are but loves us too much to leave us as we are. So in this season of Thanksgiving we need to thank God for the things He has done and for the things that He is about to do in our lives.

October’s issue was a huge success! All 3500 copies were distributed in only two days! Every week I receive at least one request for some group or church to be added to the distribution list. At this point we may not be able to fill any more requests for free bundles. We have surpassed what we can afford to print. Unless some financial help comes, our “well” may experience a drought.

I have never yet made a plea for financial help but I feel you as subscribers should know what goes into this publication. Each month there is about $2,000.00 worth of printing. Now you might say that because we have our own printing business that it doesn’t cost us $2,000.00 to print it and that is true. But what you don’t understand is that in the time we volunteer doing this booklet each month we could have been doing a job that we could have been paid $2,000.00 for so therefore it does cost us that to print this booklet.

I know that God wants this booklet done and I know that He will provide the finances. But sometimes He uses people like you to help. Someone said to me that if each person would just give $1.00 for each issue they receive that would be a great help financially. That is very true. Even if you could help by giving $.50 for each issue that would cover the cost of the printing. Quite a few people have been able to give more than that and for those people I am thankful. Because of them we have been able to print as many copies as we have so far.

You should also know that our business has not received anything at all for printing this booklet. All the monies received (about $1,200.00 so far from donations and the magnet and bookmark clubs) have gone into a fund for the non-profit ministry that is being set up. The first $2,000 will go towards the fees for incorporation and registering the non-profit ministry. It will be an official, tax-deductible ministry.

I receive requests from people to submit their literature and poetry works for use in our publication. To add any more of these author’s works would mean increasing the number of pages in each issue. It is my heart’s desire to do this as well as to increase the distribution quantity. But both of these would increase the costs of each month’s publication.

Once we get the non-profit status we can then seek financial aid from other organizations and church mission budgets. You might not consider this publication as a missionary but it is. It reaches unsaved and backsliding people all over the United States and Canada. Then we will be able to increase the distribution amount.

One dollar each month is not much to ask. It’s what a cup of coffee or two cans of pop costs. Won’t you prayerfully consider helping us and being part of this ministry.