The Widow, the Jar of Oil and Me

I have always loved the story of the widow of Zarephath.

She who obeyed - trustingly and faithfully - as she made her last meal, not for herself and her son, but for a weakened, famished prophet of God.

And in all my pondering in this story of pure faith and faithful obedience, it is the ending of that story I have pondered the very most.

How did that flour barrel never empty?

How did that cruse of oil never dry?

When the widow removed a cup or poured a portion, did it refill when she wasn't looking?

Or were the measurements always constant, defying the very laws of nature, because of the promise from the Lord?

Until today I had no answer.

Mind you, I am not a widow.

And I have much more than a cup of flour and a few drops of oil in my pantry.

But today, because of the compassion of others, my family and I were the recipients of mercy beyond my understanding.

And my heart filled with such a deep, profound perspective on this widow of Zarephath which I had never before taken into consideration.

Perhaps the widow's flour barrel never emptied and her cruse of oil never dried because of the selfless service of others.