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 whomever 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, 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 hole 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. God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar. You maybe going through a tough time right now but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that only He can. Keep the faith.
Father, I ask You to bless my friends, relatives and email buddies reading this right now. Show them a new revelation of Your love and power. I know I picked more than four, so can you.
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 whomever 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, 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 hole 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. God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar. You
maybe going through a tough time right now but God is getting
ready
to bless you in a way that only He can. Keep the faith. Father, I ask You to bless my friends, relatives and email buddies
reading this right now. Show them a new revelation of Your love and
power. I know I picked more than four, so can you.
Humanity is a wonderful gift.
Thankyou Rick.