Letter to Jesus

As Manuel gazed out over his broad fields of tall corn, a pleased smile spread over his brown face. He, Maria and the children had worked extra hard this year. They had planted more corn than ever before, and that had meant clearing more land. Large piles of rocks at the edges of the fields stood like sentinels, silent testimony to the many hours of back-breaking labour it had taken to make the land fit for cultivation.

Manuel’s smile was not only for the rustling stalks that seemed to grow before his very eyes. Of course, they would make his dream come true, and he was grateful for them. But in his imagination he could see more than corn. He could see his children wearing real shoes, carrying books, and walking several miles every day to the little school where they would get an education. Manuel himself had very little schooling. He could read and write and do simple arithmetic, but his children must have more. They must be able to take their place in the life of the small community. Pedro might, with an education, become mayor of the village, or at least postmaster or wireless operator. And Lisell? Why, with an education, a pretty girl like her could marry well and not have to spend her life hoeing in the fields like most of the country folk.

Yes, Manuel was pleased. He had gone to church every week and prayed for an especially good crop, and God had answered.

“Beautiful, beautiful!” Manuel breathed the words contentedly as he surveyed his acres. But even as he spoke he noticed clouds gathering on the far horizon. More rain? Well, it would do no harm. He turned and strode into the house for breakfast.

The rain came, wild sheets of it followed by great hailstones. The ice beat the growing things furiously into the ground, and as Maria and Manuel stood at the door and watched, they saw the work of many months swiftly ruined.

Manuel stood as in a trance. He could not believe it. Why had God let this happen to him? He was not a greedy man. He only wanted a better life for his children. The sun came out and flooded the green valley with cheerful rays. But there was no cheer in Manuel’s heart. All his dreams were shattered for another year. There was nothing left, nothing. Not even enough to live on through the winter. He would have to sell the animals, and even then they would have barely enough to eat.

Manuel slipped to the ground with his back against the hut and pulled his hat over his eyes. He could think better this way, and right now he really needed to think – hard. There was still enough time, he figured, to plant another crop, but it would have to be done immediately. He would not be able to give as thorough attention to cultivating as he would like, but there was time to get another crop in and harvested before frost. Where, however, would the seed come from?

Then Manuel had an idea. He jumped to his feet and untied his faithful burro. Stuffing a loaf of bread into the saddlebag, he rode off toward the village. Looking neither to the right nor to the left and greeting no one on the way, Manuel soon tied his burro to the rail in front of the post office. Frederico, the village postmaster, looked up in surprise as the farmer entered. Manuel never came to town except on market day, and only occasionally did he ever come into the post office.

Manuel walked up to the open window, took off his large hat and requested politely, “One stamped envelope and a sheet of writing paper, please.”

Frederico obliged, sweeping Manuel’s money into the drawer. He watched curiously as Manuel seated himself at the rickety table in the corner and picked up the scratchy pen. Manuel spent a long time on the message, for it had been years since he had written a letter, and he wanted this one to be just right. Finally, he folded the paper carefully, moistened the seal with his tongue, and painstakingly addressed the envelope. Bowing politely, he handed the letter to Frederico. Leaving the post office, he mounted the burro and headed for home with a peaceful heart. Once more a smile played round his lips. Everything would be all right now.

Frederico took Manuel’s letter and prepared to drop it in the mail bag. Then, a bit curious, he glanced at the address. “TO JESUS!” Frederico stroked his chin thoughtfully. What was he going to do with this letter? He couldn’t just drop it into the waste basket. Manuel had paid for it to have it mailed, and it had to go somewhere.

“Antonio!” called Frederico to his assistant in the back room. Antonio roused himself from his nap, took his feet off the table, and rose from his wicker chair. Lazily he shuffled into the front room.

“Look, Antonio, Manuel has written a letter to Jesus!” Frederico shoved the envelope toward him. “What are we going to do with it?”

Antonio took the letter and looked at it thoughtfully. “Keep it until he comes in next time and give him back his money. Just tell him we have no correspondence with heaven.” But Frederico could not bring himself to see it that way.

“Why don’t we open it and see what’s inside?” he asked.

“And tamper with the mail?” Antonio was aghast.

“We can’t send it, so we may as well know what it is that’s so serious that Manuel had to write Jesus about it,” Frederico reasoned. He tore the letter open and began to read:

“Dear Jesus: You know how hard Maria and I and the children have worked this season to bring in an abundant crop. You have seen us digging out the rocks, uprooting the ?stumps, plowing the ground, and planting the corn. You have been gracious to send the rain at the right time and cause the seed to sprout and grow. You know that our plans for the future are only for the good of our children. We want them to have shoes and books so that they can go to school.

“Today You permitted the hail to ruin everything. You can see there is nothing left. Unless You do something about it we will starve this winter. I know that You are testing my faith in Your providence. And I am telling You now that I know You have not forgotten us. I love and serve You every day and I know You will help us. I have figured that it will cost me about one hundred dollars to buy enough seed to replant. So I am asking You to send it to me in the next mail, which comes in, as You know next Tuesday. I shall be here to receive the letter with one hundred dollars right after the mail arrives. In the meantime we will prepare the land for planting. Your humble servant, Manuel”

Frederico and Antonio looked at each other with questioning eyes.

“How did he ever write that so well, I wonder?” said Frederico. “I wish we could do something about it. He’s a poor, ignorant peasant, but he has more faith and perseverance than I would have.” ”Yes, we should do something,” Antonio agreed.

“Why don’t we show the letter to people who come in and ask them to leave donations? Then we can put the money in an envelope and give it to Manuel when he comes in on Tuesday. I hate to shake the poor man’s faith.”

“Good idea,” Frederico agreed. So the two postmasters began their campaign to answer Manuel’s prayer. Nearly everyone who came in gave something, and at mail time on Tuesday Frederico counted it. Sixty dollars. Not as much as Manuel had asked for, but it would surely help. Frederico put the money into an envelope, sealed it, and waited for Manuel.

At mail time Manuel walked in. His shoulders were back and his head was high as he walked into the small post office and inquired whether there was mail for him. With a twinkle in his eye Frederico handed Manuel the envelope. Antonio pressed close to the window, and the two men watched with interest as Manuel slowly counted the cash. He shook his head, and then counted again. Finally, he stuffed the money into his belt and approached the window again, this time with determination in his eyes, and asked for another sheet of paper and another stamped envelope. Frederico and Antonio looked at each other quizzically. What could he be writing about this time? Perhaps a thank-you note?

Manuel did not hesitate, but sat down promptly and began writing. In a short time he folded and sealed the letter and handed it to Frederico.

As soon as Manuel had disappeared from sight Frederico pounced upon the letter. Feverishly he tore it open.

“Dear Jesus: I am very grateful to You for answering my request in this time of great emergency. However, I think You should know that the rascals here in the post office removed forty dollars. I cannot possibly make it this year without the other forty, so I shall call back again at mail time next Tuesday for Your letter with another forty dollars in it. In the meantime I shall plant the seed that I buy with these sixty dollars. Your humble servant, Manuel”

“That’s what you get for tampering with the mail,” grumbled Antonio. “I knew no good would come of it. You should just have thrown away the letter and let him blame God. Now we have to take the blame for stealing the forty dollars, and nobody thanks us for raising the sixty.”

Frederico stroked his chin. “A better idea is for each of us to put in twenty dollars. I don’t want him to lose his faith in God. What he thinks of me doesn’t matter.” So when Manuel arrived for his letter the next week Frederico and Antonio watched while he opened it. Painstakingly he counted the money, and then approached the window for yet another sheet of paper.

“Dear Jesus: I thank You for sending the additional dollars. Now my children can go to school this year. And I think that the men in the post office read my last letter, for they did not take out any of the money this time.”

In a few weeks Manuel’s carefully prepared fields were again green with new sprouts of corn. His dream, which had seemed doomed for awhile, was on its way to fulfillment.

“Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:” Matthew 6:1-3

Although Frederico did not receive any appreciation for his good deed, and was even blamed for stealing the forty dollars, that did not deter him from doing his good deed. He knew that God will reward him in heaven. He simply wanted to encourage the faith of Manuel, whether he received any recognition from man or not. “And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men;” Col. 3:23

Jesus sees all our good deeds and they are recorded in heaven. That is all the recognition we need. “Then they that feared the LORD spake often one to another: and the LORD hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the LORD, and that thought upon his name.” Mal. 3:16