I hold back, 
make myself small. 
Maybe no one will notice, 
no one will hear the clink 
of my measly offering.

A part of me scoffs,
“Why bother?
It won’t make a difference to the church.
Why not have one last meal?”

I finger the coins in the pocket
of my threadbare coat.
A man in a fancy suit
tosses in a hundred-dollar bill
and then another!
A wave of fatigue
washes over me.

I’m so tired–
tired of scrounging,
worry,
and wondering if God really cares
for orphans
and widows.

Do You even see me? I pray,
drop my coins onto the plate
and return my hands to empty pockets.

I’m almost out the door
when a man speaks loudly.
Everyone stops to listen.

He talks about me.
He praises me
because, unlike the others who gave out of their riches,
I gave out of my poverty
all I had to live on.

I break into a cold sweat.
I want to disappear,
take these words away
and hold onto them forever

but God says something more.
He clears his throat and repeats,
“She’s given away all she had to live on.”
and waits.

Then he smiles
as a woman, I’ve never met,
takes my arm
and invites me to dinner.

The Eternal looks after those who journey in a land not their own;
He takes care of the orphan and the widow.
— Psalm 146:9 (Voice)

Credits and References:
Widow’s Mite by Royce Bair. Used with permission
“My Last Coins” by Esther Hizsa, 2024.
Christ healing Peter’s mother-in-law by Rembrandt, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com