By Anonymous –

A few years ago I helped deliver Meals on Wheels on 16^th Street to a man named Modesto.   He had almost no English and my Spanish amounted to Hola and Gracias.  But I could tell by his eyes that we understood each other.  I began to look forward to stopping at his house.

I noticed that when I arrived, Modesto was usually reading his Bible.  I asked him to show me what he was reading.  Then he read it in Spanish and I read it in English.

Before long, when I came with Modesto’s lunch, he had Bible verses written down on scraps of paper for me to take home.  I took them home, looked them up, read them and kept the scraps of paper in a drawer.

One day I went through all of them and marked an ‘M” by the verses Modesto had given me.  There are a lot of “M’s” in my Bible.

Modesto died soon after that.  I went to his funeral.  Now when I read my Bible, I frequently see an “M” by a verse and I am reminded again why that verse was important to Modesto and why it is important to me.

I took mashed potatoes to Modesto, which were consumed long ago.  He gave me food for my soul which will last forever.