It is surprising to me how a small shift can change how we see the world. I try to remember that when my view of John is out of focus.

 

I read a story about a family traveling in Mexico in an RV. On their last night they heard banging and shouting, and woke up to see three masked men breaking in. The father leaped to protect his wife and little girl, shielding them from the man with the knife. The strangers began ransacking the camper, looking for valuables. The father sent up a prayer, asking God to help him.

 

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies," he heard the familiar quote. 

 

Huh? Was he supposed to feed these guys? He looked at them differently and saw not thieves, but three teenagers. They looked much poorer than he had ever been, and inexperienced at crime. He felt a wave of compassion.

"Here, you are missing the best stuff," he said as he opened up the drawer where his wallet and camera were. 

 

The bandits were confused. Their bravado was wearing off. 

 

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." He heard it again.

 

Food! The father rummaged in the small refrigerator and got out some leftover hummus. Naw, they probably wouldn't like that. He grabbed an apple and held it out to the first invader. Their hands almost touched, as the apple passed between them, and they looked at each other wordlessly. 

 

Then the second robber started shouting. He wanted them to start moving.

 

"Ok," he thought. "This is when we drive into the desert, and they kill us." He anxiously started the engine, and his little girl, who did not understand danger, smiled up at the Mexican men. Should he slow down and push his wife and daughter out the door so they could escape?

 

Then the father remembered his prayer and tried to imagine what he would do if he were on a trip with friends.

He would sing. He broke into the only Spanish song he knew. 

 

"Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad!" His daughter sang too. The Mexicans were amused.

 

After awhile the men shouted to him to stop the camper. 

 

"Now is when they murder us," he groaned. But the men opened the door. He had driven them home. 

 

In broken English the first man tried to apologize. "We poor. We so sorry. Your family, so nice. We are sorry."

 

He watched them go into their ramshackle house. Then he folded his wife and daughter into his arms, and sobbed.

 

 

 

Photo by Chara Odhner

www.caringformarriage.org