THE MYSTERIOUS BOX
Jobs disappeared. Banks closed. Long lines formed in the streets. People called them "bread lines".
Hungry families woke early (if they slept at all) and stood in line all day to snatch a charitable loaf of bread to feed themselves…temporarily.
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In a cabin in the Appalachian mountains, there dwelt a family of four:
two children (a boy and a girl), a mom, and a dad (he’d lost his job at the sawmill, the mom lost hers at the department store in the nearby city).
Everywhere things looked really bleak.
Tragically, their children were afraid they'd starve.
"Mommy," said the little boy, "are we going to die?"
"No, no, no" the mother reassured him, "let me show you something."
His mother forced a smile, took her son's hand, and walked the boy and his young sister over to the pantry. . . opening the door majestically with joy and hope brilliantly beaming from her face.
She found the stool and stepped up . . . stretching to reach a colorful box on the top shelf of the pantry . . .
As her children watched expectantly, their mother grasped the mysterious box; taking it down, and turning it around wide-eyed --as though she were holding a Christmas present.
The children’s joy and excitement lit that dark moment, not unlike a great burst of sunlight that might bathe a room as a curtain is pulled back revealing a hopeful morning ahead.
Eagerly they followed her back into the kitchen area where she placed the heavy polished wooden display box on the table and slowly opened its lid.
Inside the box revealed all sorts of brightly colored fruit! Oranges, bananas, grapes, cherries, and a huge pineapple!!
"You see that my little Darlings?" The mother’s voice overflowed with music.
The children nodded silently with wonder brimming over in their eyes.
"As long as we have this we are never going to starve to death!"
The brother and his little sister relaxed and smiled ecstatically.
"Can we have a cherry right now?" Her son pleaded.
"Oh, sweetheart, this is for later. Much later--only for emergencies. You know - in case things should ever get really really bad."
Straightaway the mother distracted them by mentioning their favorite Bible storybook, quickly offering to read to them even though bedtime was hours away.
As brutal weeks crawled by, their father hunted in the woods for squirrels, rabbits, or even less appetizing possibilities. Slowly, perceptibly … the children began to lose weight.
The once over-active kids became listless . . . played very little . . . gradually turned hollow of eye and pale.
Their parents listened with hearts breaking - to the plaintive whimpering in the bed at night with their little bellies growling like distant thunder.
Sometimes it was unbearable. Often, in fact.
When hope itself seemed cruel, mother heaved a great sigh and lit a candle to fetch the wondrous box from the pantry shelf placing it on the bed in front of the starving children for them to behold. She’d read to them her favorite scripture from the family Bible.
"Mommy! Please, please....cacan't we have just a taste of.....one....just one grape?"
But, mother solemnly, sternly shook her head from side to side with great sadness and tell them what she always told them.
"When things get really bad and we’re all running out of any hope at all - if our happy hearts should become ungrateful and we stop believing even a little that our Lord and Saviour would allow innocent children to die hungry - well - THAT is when we’ll eat this fruit and no sooner."
Straightaway one and all would go to their knees beside the bed and place prayerful hands together and the father would lead them in a grateful, hopeful prayer that lasted, and lasted until the children passed out exhausted and slept curled on the rug.
That winter was hard.
Mountainous snow drifted into great heaps that prevented much hunting at all. The game animals seemed to vanish from the Earth itself. Grass, roots, and plants dug out from under snow became a meal of bitter soup.
The night would arrive with ferocious winds buffeting the cabin’s log walls, freezing and overcast with frequent flashing bolts of hostile lightning snarling like beasts outside their front door.
But then…finally…inevitably …
Spring came!
The thaw brought a new season and the forest came alive - replenished like a great basket heaped with golden bounty. The sound of hunters shooting game replaced the dark thunder of that awful winter now passed.
The Hunters arrived at the cabin, curious to see how the family of four had weathered the winter.
The men knocked on the door. Loud. Louder. Then shouted to wake the late sleepers.
Knowing people lived inside, they grew worried.
Opening the door they called out, "Anybody home?"
It was dark inside and there was a rancid, truly overwhelming smell that chilled the hearts of the men.
Gradually, their eyes adjusted to the darkness.
They found them. All dead in one large bed.
Holding each other-- the little brother and sister; the Mom and Dad.
Gaunt and wispy they were-- like the limbs of a leafless tree. Gruesomely tragic.
The hunters noticed a dining table beside the bed had been pulled close.
It was as if it were a thing to be observed - not a dining table - but a display table with a mysterious box.
How curious! A colorful box rested in the center. The lid stood open.
Across from the bodies whose heads were turned - as if - worshipfully toward what they beheld.
The hunters stood quietly, their minds turning over the spectacle - so tragically senseless. What could this mean?
Inside that box was a colorful display of fruit - like you sometimes see in the large department stores back East. Several pieces had been gnawed. Bits missing.
A brass plate is engraved at the bottom. There were 7 words:
"It looks just like the real thing!"
At the bottom of the display card in small letters, it read: WAX FRUIT
And large words beneath:
Caution: DO NOT ingest, display only
(poisonous.)
Next to the bed, a large, heavy book lay open...perhaps a storybook.
One last reading for the children perhaps?
A passage was underlined many times.
One of the hunters read it out loud.
“...is the assured expectation of what is hoped for, the evident demonstration of realities that are not seen.”
One of the other hunters spoke out, “What does that mean?”
The man holding the heavy book shook his head with a puzzled expression,
“I don’t know, somebody tore out a hole in front of the sentence.”
The missing piece was found clutched in the mother’s hand.
It was just one small word.
It read “Faith …”
They blew the dust from the cover.
It read, HOLY BIBLE.
At the funeral service in the nearest town, the Minister completed his sermon
And the congregation bowed their heads for the prayer. There was no prayer.
The cleric seemed overtaken by some internal eruption of grief. He spoke only 7 words, then turned and left the congregation wondering …
“What did he say? I couldn’t hear him?” One of the older congregants asked aloud.
Someone from the front pew answered her.
“He said: Man does not live by bread alone.”
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