Chapter 10
Feeding the Orphans
“Dear gracious God,” said Mr. Mueller.
“Dear gracious God,” repeated two-year-old Lydia.
“Please care for the orphans.”
“Please care for the orphans.”
“And teach them of Your Son the Lord Jesus.”
“And teach them of Your Son the Lord Jesus.”
“In His name, amen.”
“And give the orphans a home. In Jesus’ name, amen,” finished Lydia.
“Now,” said Mr. Mueller, “Let’s get on your bonnet and jacket. We’ll go out and invite the orphans in to breakfast.”
Mrs. Mueller got out her largest pot, as she did every morning now. “We have only enough oatmeal for a few servings today,” she said. “but I’m sure it will do for whoever comes.”
“And don’t forget,” Mr. Mueller added, “it will take a few minutes to gather the children and bring them in. The Lord may provide something more before then.”
Mr. Mueller held little Lydia by the hand as they stepped outside. Around them, the dry leaves of fall whished by in the wind. Mr. Mueller looked around. There they were, five or six little children, sitting on the ground across the road, holding their arms and waiting. When they saw him, they all stood up. One little boy called, “Are you giving hot mush today, Mr. Mueller?” He held his torn, dirty hat in his hands.
“Yes, I am, Bobby,” Mr. Mueller answered gently. “And a good story about God and His dear Son Jesus.”
“I like to hear them stories,” a little girl said.
Her arms look as skinny as chair rails, thought Mr. Mueller. He took her by the hand.
“Can we help you find more children?” she asked.
“Yes, Jane, that’s just what I was going to ask you to do.” Mr. Mueller gently touched Jane’s dirty hair before he bent down to pick up Lydia. Then, with Lydia in one arm and Jane holding on to the other, he and all the children walked gaily down the street. “Come for breakfast!” they called. “Come! Come!”
“There’s Jimmy!” cried Lydia. “There’s Missy!” Jimmy and Missy came running up the street, along with more and more children.
Mr. Mueller looked around him, and his eyes filled with tears. How much they need, he thought. How very much. Only a God with a kitchen filled to the brim with mush could care for all these children.
By the time they turned to go back to the house, Mr. Mueller and Lydia had with them thirty-five orphans, running, shouting, jumping.
Mr. Mueller prayed all the way home. “Lord,” he whispered, “we keep getting more and more children every day. This is the most You have ever given us. But You are the God who knows our every need. You knew from the beginning of the world that we would have thirty-five orphans today. You will make Mary’s pot be like that widow’s jar of oil. She will just keep serving and serving from it, and we will have enough.”
When they reached the door, Mrs. Mueller was there to greet them, her face shining with joy. “It wasn’t but a few moments after you left,” she gasped. “A man I’d never seen before came to the back door. He said, ‘I know you’re trying to feed some orphans, mum. God bless you for it. This is to help you in that good work.’ And George, he gave me a huge bag of oats, and look—molasses!”
“How jolly!” the children cried. “Molasses!”
“Praise God!” said Mr. Mueller. “Today I will tell the story of how Jesus fed the five thousand.”
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