It was a quiet day in Herr Schmidt’s grocery shop, but outside it was pouring. The time was soon after the Second World War. It seemed just an ordinary autumn day. Herr Schmidt was looking along his shelves and noting what he needed to get to restock them, when the doorbell rang while he was busy behind the counter.
A woman, who seemed tired, came to the counter and began, “If it is possible, have you any food that I could give my children?” Herr Schmidt raised his eyebrows. He had never seen this woman before.
“How much money have you got?”
“I have nothing to give you but a little prayer.”
Herr Schmidt’s eyebrows rose higher; this request did not move him. He could not turn his shop into a relief organization.
This was his livelihood.
“Write the prayer on a piece of paper,” he said, almost mockingly, and tried to get on with his work. But to his astonishment the woman produced a slip of paper from her coat pocket, saying, “I have written it already.” Schmidt was so confused that he took the slip of paper, but at once regretted he had done so. What should he do with it? What should he say?
Suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. Without reading what was on the paper, he put it on the scale, saying, “Now we will see how much food this slip of paper is worth.”
The doorbell rang again. More customers came in and stood watching in front of the counter.
Schmidt took a kilo of bread and put it on the scale. To his astonishment, the scale did not move. He took some butter, a bag of flour, and some eggs and put them on the scale, too. But the scale didn’t move!
Schmidt was completely puzzled, but he said nothing. The other customers were watching. He heaped more on the scale, but still there was no movement.
Schmidt tried hard to contain his annoyance, but could not. His face was red with confusion, and this filled him with vexation. At last he said, “I cannot get any more on the scale. Here is a bag; pack all the things in it, and let me get on serving my customers.”
The woman tried hard to suppress her tears as she began to pack the food in the bag. Now and again she wiped a tear with her sleeve.
Herr Schmidt stole a glance at her, and saw that her bag was still not quite full. Without saying a word, he took a large piece of cheese, and pushed it over to her.
When the woman had profusely thanked him and had gone, and the other customers had been served, Schmidt began to examine the scale. He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair and said, “Now what is the matter here?”
He was soon aware what had happened: the scale was broken! That was strange, since it was working perfectly the day before.
Schmidt the grocer, is now an old man. His hair is white. But as before, he shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. The woman he never saw again. Yet he remembers her better than any other of his customers. He often thinks of her, and he knows what happened was not just imagination, for the slip of paper which the woman gave him, he keeps safely. It reads:
“Please, Lord, Give us this day our daily bread.”
His love has no limit, His grace has no measure,
His pow’r has no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again!