The Little Boy's Lunch

Every town around the Sea of Galilee was buzzing with rumors that Messiah had finally come.

"Mama," I said, handing my baby sister her toy, "what do you think he's like?"

Baby Anna started gnawing on it between giggles. Mama chuckled at the baby before taking the small barley loaves out of the fire and setting them down to cool.

"I heard he looks after the poor," she said with a small smile.

"Samuel Barjacin said his father saw him heal a blind man!" I exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Do you think I'll get to witness a miracle too?"

"We can hope." Mama blew on the small loaves once more before counting out five of them and setting them on a cloth. "Fetch me the fish."

I did as I was told, picking out the nicest-looking ones from Papa’s catch that morning. Mama wrapped up my lunch and placed it into my bag.

"Be home by sundown," she said firmly before placing a kiss on my head and slinging the bag over my shoulder. "And try to remember as much as you can."

"Yes, Mama," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist. I breathed in the smell of barley bread and spices. "I love you!"

"I love you too, Benjamin."

Hours later, I wove through the crowds who had all come to see Jesus. I tried my best to memorize things for Mama, but there was so much I didn't understand.

Talk of hunger spread throughout the camp. Many had come from afar. I looked down at my bag.

Maybe Jesus was hungry, too.

I lifted my bag off my shoulder and reached inside, taking out my lunch. My heart thundered as I approached. He was speaking with one of his disciples.

"Hello, child, what’s your name?"

I peered up. One of Jesus’ disciples spoke to me. He wore fishing garb, not unlike Papa’s, but as he asked his question, I felt courage leave me.

"B-Benjamin," I said.

"I'm Andrew. Why have you come?" he asked, a note of impatience in his tone.

I swallowed, no words coming to mind, so instead, I lifted the food, still wrapped in cloth, for him to see. He moved the cloth aside and peered at the small fish and loaves. He chuckled, a pitying look coming over his eyes.

The disciple speaking to Jesus said, "Two hundred denarii worth of bread wouldn’t be enough for each of them to have a little."

Andrew cleared his throat. "There’s a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish—but what are they for so many?"

I felt my cheeks turn red at his words. About to cry, I looked over to Jesus, expecting him to laugh just as Andrew had done, but instead, I was met with kindness as he walked past the disciples in my direction. He stooped down until he met my eyes. My breath caught.

"What have we got here?" he asked lightly.

"M-my lunch," I stuttered. "I thought you might be hungry. Y-you can have it, Master."

My stomach grumbled.

He smiled. "This will do nicely, Benjamin. You've done well."

My heart leaped as he took the meager offering from my hands and motioned for me to follow.

The crowd had become restless, but when Jesus appeared before them, they quieted down. He lifted the food to Heaven and gave thanks before turning to his disciples and instructing them to each take up a basket. As each disciple did so, I heard a sound of awe come over them as each basket weighed heavily in their hands.

Jesus turned to me with a smile and whispered, "Watch."

Mama’s loaves and Papa’s fish passed from hand to hand. Each person took enough to be filled.

"We need more baskets!" Andrew exclaimed in awe. "Please, more baskets!"

Fathers, mothers, and children took food from the baskets—more than enough for all. Yet, the loaves and fish kept multiplying before our eyes. I gasped and looked to Jesus, who chuckled at my delight.

That day, I traveled home with my belly and my heart full. Mother didn’t believe me at first when I told her about Jesus’ miracle, but when I lifted the heavy bag into her hands, she became speechless.

"He liked your bread," I said, matter-of-fact.

She looked ready to faint.

That night, thoughts of Jesus swirled around in my head, and I smiled, remembering the loving way in which he spoke to me.

I couldn't wait to tell Samuel Barjacin what Jesus had done with my lunch and how I came home with more than I left with...

Much, much more.