SHOWDOWN AT THE BLESSING STORE

         
            Weathered board creaked under boot of old rancher as he stepped out on porch.  Crisp autumn morn greeted the steam of breath.  Red sunrise streamed through clouds of eastern sky.  The last of what once was many green and red throated humming birds flitted among the flowers.  The old rancher said a prayer of gratitude to the Lord.  Yet, as the rooster crowed, off the porch the old rancher stepped, his boot struck ground, his face hardened to flint, for it was time; time to head for town and the big showdown.

            So easily churned, so easily stirred still waters.  Old scars run deep, new wounds their promise to keep.  His mind for a time fought the flow; but the tempest swelled, the waves of sorrow did grow.  Like a miserable and pregnant momma cat, he pfffttted and weeooowed and clawed inner walls of his skull.  Every sad thing was dredged from the pit of his mind, filled the frown of his brow.  Neath the falling leaves of a hackberry tree, he yanked open the door of that old pickup truck, climbed aboard that one way ticket to town and the big showdown.

            Hacked off and ranting on down that road of self goad, the mange of his brain bled and bred the cult of self pity.  The fire flared, fed of the fuel from the well of hell.  What demons hackled; how they howled; what sea of glee did Satan see in his waves of sorrow; as that old cowboy headed for the end of town and the big showdown.

            Twas in front of the Blessing Store that truck tires stirred the sour dust of the lot.  While neath the brim of his hat that old cowboy still frowned, still drowned, sinking down deeper to dark thoughts keeper. And that devilish keeper leered, musing how well man has no problem, needs little to no prodding  to send his mind to pity filled hell.  And that old cowboy exited the truck and stared head long at the headline news from the rag in the box neath the wings of the Blessing Store.  Two quarters he put into the slot of bad news, pulled open the portal to gloom, the door to doom; took from it the newspaper, closed that bleak door, and neath his armpit that well of hell did store.  And the devil hopped in gleeful delight, that tomorrow's rag would tell the tale of what had happened at the end of town and the big showdown.

            Through swinging double door, dusty cowboy boots walked that there floor, and in them the feet of  him from whom acid did stem.  To the meat counter he went, bacon and bloody hamburger his bent.  Then away to to the line of waiting his boots he sent; and there in that line stood a man of Mexican descent.  To him that Mexican man said, "Good morning, preacher. How are you today?"

            And the lady behind the cash register with mile wide smile chimed in, "Good morning, preacher man!"

            Then what had been, he chalked up to sin; looked up to heaven, let forgiveness in.  And not from keeping up appearances, nor from inner embarrassment did the old cowboy plow; but from the root neath his brow, and from his heart escaped the blessed now, that this day held a journey of joy... Because in an instant, that old cowboy, that preacher boy, realized that he loved those precious Christian folk more than himself.  And so did Satan lose, that day at the Blessing Store... in Blessing town... at the big showdown...

            And the very next day that preacher boy, that old cowboy, did go back and thank them for what they had done... on that day of blessings... at the Blessing Store... in Blessing town... for with Jesus even the weak and broken heart... found triumph at the big showdown...

            Deuteronomy 28:8 KJ, "The Lord shall command the blessing upon thee in thy storehouses, and all that thou settest thy hand unto; and he shall bless thee in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."

            If "Showdown at the Blessing Store" will be a blessing in the storehouse of any waiting at the check-out line of life; please add to their grocery cart.  And remind them with a gentle smile: We all got to pay-up sometime.