Her Name is Georgia, Part 3

This post is a continuation of Her Name is Georgia, Part 1 and Part 2. Please read the previous posts first if you haven’t already.)

“If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” – James 2:16

Georgia showed me her kitchen. The first thing that caught my eye was a small baker’s rack that displayed a gorgeous set of dark red dishes that were obviously quite old but still in perfect condition. Since I’m a foodie and love all things kitchen related, I was fascinated by her collection.

The second thing I noticed wasn’t something she had, but rather what she didn’t have. There wasn’t a refrigerator. Immediately, the ache in my heart was back. Tears came to my eyes, and a lump formed in my throat. I’d always concluded that Georgia’s rail-thin frame was a result of her walking. However, at that moment, I knew that exercise wasn’t the only factor keeping her so skinny. She doesn’t eat, I thought. When Georgia walked out of the room in front of me, I quickly peeked inside a few cabinets to see if what I suspected was true. It was.

I had trouble focusing on what Georgia was saying. All I could think about was the fact that she probably rarely had a well-balanced meal. I couldn’t stand it any longer. No more small talk. I had to know.

“Georgia, I see that you don’t own a refrigerator,” I said. “What do you do for food? You do eat, don’t you?”

“Yes, when I’m out walking.” She told me that if she gets hungry, she’ll grab something at a restaurant or grocery store. If, I thought.

Georgia then led me out to her sun room. Curtains covered the windows, and she pulled aside one curtain to show me what was behind it. On the windowsill sat two cans of fruit cocktail and one can of mandarin oranges. That was her pantry.

As we wrapped up the tour of her house, I told her I’d stop again. I gave her a hug, said good-bye, and walked out to my car. As I drove away, I called my husband at work to tell him what had happened. “Justin, we have to do something.”

I thought about Georgia for the next two hours. I couldn’t get her or her situation out of my mind. However, the last thing I wanted to do was just to feel sad for Georgia. I was determined not to let that happen.

That night the Feola family had a very special guest for dinner.