The Peddling Man – Part 2

Greetings Dear Reader,

So if you read yesterday’s post you will understand this one.  If not you may wish to go back a day first.  Please understand that I do not often venture into the supernatural in my writings that are not fiction.  What I am about to relate is not fiction. 

We need to fast forward a few decades from the events of my childhood in Atlanta.  Ten years ago I was living in a house in Madison proper.  I am not sure which year it was but the events matter more than the date.

My Daughter-in-law Raven had just returned from her service time in the Middle East.  We were excited to have her over for dinner.  I had planned to cook steaks on the grill and had come home early from work to prepare things.

I had the steaks and a salad prepared.  Sweet tea was chilling in the fridge.  I even had Russet potatoes ready to prepare to go with the meal.  It occurred to me that I had not checked the mail so I made my way out to the mail box to do so.

As I reached the end of the driveway an ancient pickup truck with faded blue paint and a tin roof over the bed stopped right in front of me.  The bed held shelves with many kinds of fresh vegetables.  A man easily as old as the truck climbed out.  His movements were spry for his age.   

He smiled and spoke, “I wonder if you could use some fresh vegetables.  I am headed home but some left at a good price.”

He reached into the truck and proffered some fresh cucumbers and tomatoes.  It was easy to see that they were at their peak or ripeness.  Wanting to give Raven the best I could I inquired how much he wanted for them.  I told him nothing about my dinner plans. 

He offered the three cucumbers and six tomatoes for two dollars.  Thinking that he was poor I gave him five.  As he bagged the vegetables he produced another from the truck bed.  He smiled and then I met his eyes for the first time.

They were clear and brilliant green.  He handed me the second bag and spoke again.  “I think Raven would prefer red potatoes.  These are some really good red potatoes.”

I was speechless.   I took that bag and thanked him.  He smiled again and his emerald eyes danced with mirth and a little mischief.  Looking to regain my footing I fell back to my upbringing.  I thanked him again and asked his name.

He retreated to his truck cab and smiled one last time.  He looked across at me through the open passenger window.  “You can just call me the pedaling man,” and he drove away. 

I took me a full minute to recover.  My seventh summer in Atlanta rushed back to my mind.  Dinner that night was wonderful and we were able to welcome Raven home with love and a proper feast.

I cannot say exactly what happened that day but I know that it was beyond the natural.  I know that God intervened to help remember why I was cooking the meal.  He reminded me what generosity with food and drink can do for others.

Cooking for others brings me joy.  Generosity frees me.  Simple acts of kindness are powerful weapon.  The story is true.  I will leave the interpretation of it to you Dear Reader.  Please share your thoughts with me.     

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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