Proof The Bible Is True

I had just walked in the door after a long commute from downtown Toronto. The bus had been late, and I was tired. It wasn’t easy working three jobs and raising four active teenagers.

 

Mine were good kids—three girls and a boy—but they were still a lot to handle. Especially for a single parent. I had hoped to come home and find them all quietly doing their homework. That was the deal. But they were running around with the five next-door neighbor children instead. I sighed.

 

My oldest daughter rushed up to me. “Mom, can they stay for dinner?”

 

I didn’t have much planned, just some leftover spaghetti with half a loaf of bread. And only six meatballs. I was already buying on credit from the neighborhood grocer. So a quick shop to fill out the meal wasn’t an option. I put down my things. Tonight of all nights, I thought. I had barely enough to feed my four, but all nine of them?

 

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