An Angel Named Johnny
She rose from her knees and started her chores, lighting the stove and sweeping the floors. She tried hard to trust that the Lord would provide, but still the fear lingered--way deep down inside.
Ten miles down the road lived a woodsman named John. He walked with a limp, and one eye was gone. His hair was all matted; his clothes were a mess; and what his shack looked like, one only could guess. He trapped, fished and hunted, and he panned for some gold. His pal was a wolf dog, eleven years old.
One day he went looking for a duck or a goose, but there by the lake he saw a bull moose. He readied his rifle, took aim; then he fired. The moose gave no struggle; he fell, then expired.
The mother, meanwhile, watched her children at play. Oh, what could she give them for supper that day? She crawled down the root cellar, digging around. A few spuds and some carrots were all that she found.
As she walked to the woodshed, her heart leaped with fear. Down the road a man staggered, like he'd had too much beer. His clothes were all tattered; his face was unshaved. He must be a madman, the way he behaved.
With a loud voice he cried, "Please don't be alarmed. I'm here on a mission. I mean you no harm. "My name is Johnny, and this here's my hound."
He then swung a sack from his back to the ground. With a tooth-missing grin he said, "Brought you some meat. For me and old Lobo, it was too much to eat."
With a song in her heart and a tear in her eye, the mother said, "Thank you!" 'Twas a small whispered sigh. The children all clambered around the man then. By the time he had left, it was going on ten. As she knelt by her bed much later that day, she thanked God for sending the "wild man" their way. His appearance denied it, but she knew for sure that God sent an angel named "Johnny" to her.
A true incident from our life in the late 50ís.