There is, there are.

There is a moment that happens when the begging ones put away their tin cups and receive.

There is a before-and-after that trademarks the life of a weathered widow who no longer hides her face in her shawl before four foreign women who long to give her some of the Bread they have been feasting on.

There is a relief that happens when the accused woman is told that she is welcome and wanted at the table with the feast. There is disbelief when she hears that it was prepared just for her.

There is healing in the heart of the precious one who could never repay the abundance that has been -- and will be -- lavished on her.

There are tears that fall from the faces of the broken and healed alike. There is an exchange of brokenness and healing as the whole one weeps for the downtrodden and the broken breathes the fresh air of restoration.

There is a miracle that takes place every time a begging one walks away without what she was searching for, but is visibly transformed by an invisible satisfaction.

There is nothing in this world that could compare to the mystery of this radical, passionate love expressed to me through death so that I might know Eternal Life -- He Himself, Who was, Who is, and Who will be my Love. Forever.