A widow could not feed her son.
A famine in the land
had brought them to the edge of death--
no bread was in her hand.
The widow gathered sticks for fuel
outside the city gate,
and heard a stranger's cry for help
as it was getting late.
She gave him water from the well--
the stranger needed bread.
She could not take her son's last meal
to feed this man instead.
The man said, "Do not be afraid,
for God has heard your cry.
Just feed me first, and you will see,
your stores will not run dry."
She used her flour, her oil, her fire.
What else was there to add?
To make and share her final meal
she used the faith she had.
The flour, the oil, the fire, the faith,
are things we can't explain.
But, day by day, they had enough--
enough until the rain.