A "Glimpse" of the Poor Widow

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He speaks of the widow’s sacrificial giving
Mark 12:41-44

Then Jesus sat down opposite the Temple almsbox and watched the people putting their money into it. A great many rich people put in large sums. Then a poor widow came up and dropped in two little coins, worth together about a halfpenny. Jesus called his disciples to his side and said to them, “Believe me, this poor widow has put in more than all the others. For they have all put in what they can easily afford, but she in her poverty who needs so much, has given away everything, her whole living!”

In the moment…

With a deep sigh, she lifts her hand to the slot in the box and, one by one, listens to the fall and chink of the pair of coppers. She lifts her eyes to Heaven and entreats. Then she turns again and walks toward the gate through which she’d entered and begins her long, trudging journey back to her barren room. She can already imagine her arrival there: of opening up the thin, broken door upon its creaking, loosening hinge, and shuffling to her bed to sit down; of nibbling at the remaining crust of bed and then lying down—in the gathering darkness—to consider her life; of nodding off to sleep amidst the bustling sounds of the city and then rising tomorrow to another such day of poverty.

All this she can clearly see as she walks off.

But then she also sees another sight...

She sees the look in the eyes of a man—sitting on a bench o’erlooking the treasury box—who is intently regarding her. His head is set to one side; the hint of a grin is curling up the edge of his lip. His eyes are lovely. They are love.

She nods her head at him, as if to say a quiet hello, as she passes. His hint of a grin becomes a full, beautiful smile.

Suddenly her whole inward prospect changes.

For she knows this man, suddenly.

She is certain she has seen the one who will provide for the morrow.

This poor widow just knows it.