Sausage, Pears, and Apples

There was a time, long, long ago, when my brother and I would eagerly await the arrival of Fall and every train that rolled into our northern Ontario hometown. We knew that on one of those trains there would be wonderful gifts with our names on them.

No socks, shirts or pajamas—at least not on the train. Fall meant that a box of apples and another one of pears from the farm of one of our uncles would surely be arriving any day. Fresh fruit was hard to get and expensive up north back then. And yes, they used to ship fruit to us on the train. Nowadays they hardly let passengers bring luggage, let alone crates of fruit!

Christmas was also always one of those special seasons. We anticipated the arrival of the mail. Christmas cards and sometime packages would come from far away. The cards were opened and the letters and greetings read with joy. The packages were carefully tucked away until the big day. But there was one package that came in the mail that was not saved until Christmas day. Another aunt and uncle on another farm sent us their homemade smoked sausage in the Fall—by mail. Yes, the post office delivered sausage back then!

The train no longer runs and the post office doesn't deliver sausage any more. But then again, there are no fruit trees or smokehouses since there are no farms in our family any more.

But the memories remain of the kindness of our kin in sending us goodies that we were not able to obtain easily for ourselves.

These personal memories were triggered recently by a file I discovered as I went about my archival duties. The file contained lists of pastors and their families who served in church plants and whose salaries were minimal and whose resources were limited. Back in those days (these particular files were from the early 1960s) more affluent churches would write to the denomination's offices to ask for information about pastoral families who might be in need of "comfort boxes" at Christmas. Information was collected on the sizes and types of clothing needed by the members of the family and churches would buy new clothing to send to the needy family.

I took note that the clothing was to be new, not used.

I grew up on hand-me-down clothing (and still go "thrifting" when possible). Nothing wrong with gently used secondhand clothing. When I outgrew the items, and if they were still in good condition, my mother would send them off to another younger cousin.

But I have also experienced being on the receiving end of some pretty awful stuff that people thought was appropriate to send to missionaries (the story about missionaries receiving used teabags is true!). As I was going through the correspondance in the files I took note also of the reasons behind asking for new clothing. It was important that those receiving the gifts should know that they were valued enough to deserve something special at Christmas, something new that hadn't been worn by others. It was a sign of respect as much as anything.

In the file were letters expressing appreciation for the boxes and the encouragment received in knowing that someone, sometimes someone living on the other side of the country, was thinking of them.

I don't know if anyone provides "comfort boxes" these days for those in ministry whose resources are limited. I am not sure those people actually exist anymore in the same way they once did. I wonder if "comfort boxes" would even be appreciated if they were given. Would the recipient of today be offended or embarrassed? I don't know.

But even if I can't send (or shouldn't send) a blouse, size medium, to a pastor's wife somewhere, there might be something else I can send. Would the modern "comfort box" be a gift card? Perhaps.

And perhaps the place to begin is to judiciously ask if there is someone in ministry out there that might appreciate a little "comfort" and joy this Christmas from someone they may never meet on this side of heaven. I won't be sending sausage in the mail, or even that blouse, but I am going to ask around just to see if maybe there is someone out there in ministry who might need a little "comfort" and joy from a stranger.

It's what the family of God does.