Tom the Little Man

Tom wore a long face and trudged on. His trousers had faded and clothed with dust. Reaching the threshold, he inserted the key into the lock and embraced his house. He hissed and slammed the door behind him, for the evening was the worst day of his life. He was made to work late again even though it was Christmas Eve. But now, at last, the hammer had fallen on him! As soon as he was indoors, Tom sank into his favorite chair. After a time, he sat up and drew his rickety table. The little man lit up the poorly decorated room and his face looked pale in the lamplight.

He took the letter out of his pocket. He lowered his bifocals and glanced dispassionately above them at the letter and a deep melancholy settled over his spirit. Tom had been relieved of his job and it was a bitter pill to swallow. "WHY ME!" he banged the table.

Tom had just disposed of the letter when he heard a faint knock on the door. "Who's there?"

"It's I, Priscilla," her voice was as soft as the morning breeze.

Tom masked his anger with a smile and opened the door. He said a friendly good evening to her. "I am sure you came to inquire why I did not attend the service. My employer asked me to work extra hours..."

"Oh, I understand," the lady smiled as Tom led her into his humble home. Priscilla sat on a chair with her back to the wall. She placed her hands on her thighs and glanced at the little man. "God told me that you have lost your job. But He will use this setback to turn your life around."

A ray of hope flushed over Tom's suntanned face as he sat up and muttered, "Amen!"

She closed her eyes facing heaven. Priscilla brought her hands together, making recitations as if she was praying. Then she stopped and turned to Tom. "The company downsized to reduced cost..."

"Yes," Tom was surprised as he nodded almost a million times.

"Hold on," the prophetess said. "Would you be interested in hearing a secret that will make you rich?"

"Yes, oh yes!" the little man answered. He straightened his chin and looked at her face.

"You have an eighteen carat diamond ring you inherited from your father. It's wrapped up in a handkerchief in the right-hand corner of the third drawer. God said you are to get it and give it to me!"

Tom gasped and beat his chest. "Ah, my heirloom? I have never told anyone about it. How did you know I have it under my roof?"

Priscilla laughed, "God told me just now. Do as He had said and He will make you rich!"

The little man chewed his lower lips as he imagined that he will be able to live in luxury for the rest of his life! Then he sat back and scratched his head. She was right about the diamond in the drawer, he thought. As if he was under a spell, he rose to his feet and moved to the corner, and then returned to the table with the heirloom. Priscilla grabbed it and placed it in her pocket. "I like people who obey God," she smiled and gave him a hug. "If you need another hug just ask," she heaved. "Follow me!"

"Where are we going?" Tom yawned and shifted his weight to one leg.

She rubbed her hands gleefully together. "I want to introduce you to a friend. If you have a little money, he knows how to multiply it many times over!"

Tom dreamed of the money. "Thank you. I will be forever grateful, Priscilla." But just as the words were too exciting for Tom to bear, Priscilla held his hand and then they were received by the outside world.