PABLO PEQUEÑO’S MOTHER He was just that—Pablo Pequeño—a small man! I first met him in the small village of La Laja, Nuevo Leòn, Mexico. On Pablo’s piece of property, there was space for several palm-thatched huts. One central woven-stick, circular hut was where María cooked tortillas on a single section of a disk plow. María had been crippled from childhood with polio so sat on the ground; and the round disk had a square hole in the center where the fire licked up around the tortillas. Pablo and Berta lived in a block house right next to the road. There was also ground to plant corn and a garden, and room for Pablo’s oxen and the two-wheeled ox cart. Pablo’s mother—I never knew her name—lived alone in another hut. One could throw a cat and a dog through the holes in the wickered wall. And the night wind blew through all the cracks. The only piece of furniture was a hard bed. Here the old shriveled woman lay in a fetal position under a ragged blanket. She was non-conversant. She often wailed in the night. But Pablo told me about her better days. She had given a clear testimony about her salvation. She had honored God; now God was honoring her! Readers of “SomebodyCares4u,” one of the themes opened .to discussion is: “If you died right now, are you sure you would go to heaven?” Pablo’s mother settled this question long before her mind grew feeble, and her body wracked with pain. Her summons came on a cold, dark night. Mexico suffers when it gets cold. One could not build a fire in any of these huts. Several grandsons built a big bonfire out in the open; then kept bringing a pan or two of the hot coals close to the dying woman’s bedside. And the hours ticked by! Pablo stayed at the head of his mother’s bed. One married daughter sat at one side of the bed, and the older daughter sat on the other side. I occupied a position at the foot of the bed. A solemn quietness pervaded the candle-lit darkness. The death-rattle came from the throat of this tightly drawn-up old lady. Then her body shivered. She drew a deep breath—and was gone. Pablo, who by now had risen to his feet, began to pray. His voice was soft and low. At this moment, I became aware that the miserably cold shack was filled with angels. They never took notice of the wretched hut, nor felt the sorrow of heart that touched those waiting into the night. God had simply dispatched a band of angels to bring another of His own to the better world! Erwin Bourne Outreach_amazon@yahoo.com <HOME <ARCHIVES