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When God Comes a Knockin’

by Debra Brent © 2026

Rat a tat tat - I hear on the door,
Whoever could that be?
I quickly checked my calendar,
Blank, not a thing to see.

Could be it's a delivery,
But not the kind I think;
What's waiting on the other side,
Indeed, a missing link.

I crack open the door so slight,
A little boy appears;
"Hello", he states, "We just moved in",
Looks no more than five years.

I ask what it is I can do,
What was his precious need?
He looked straight up into my eyes,
"Please help, buy one of these."

I knew my budget was stretched thin,
A dime I could not spare;
Then he began to inform me,
His father was not there.

It was only him and his mom,
Who moved across the state;
Money, well that was really tight,
Two nights since they had ate.

My heart, it broke right on the spot,
I asked him to come in;
"My name is Sara, what is yours?"
He replied, "Benjamin."

I showed him to the kitchen,
Which is where he took a seat;
He then told me his mom was ill,
Her heart had gotten weak.

I rummaged through the fridge and found,
My dinner for the night;
It wasn't much, but could be split,
And shared, it's what felt right.

I wrapped the food, tossed in some drinks,
Said, "Ben let's go see mom";
He grabbed my hand as we walked out,
Washed over me was calm.

You see, over the past few years,
I lived most days alone;
My husband died, no kids were born;
Silence was all I'd known.

Until this little boy did knock,
Doled out his hurt and pain;
A message sent from God above,
To build new once again.

I sat that night across from Ben,
Shared stories of my life;
Listened intent to his mother,
As she spoke of her plights.

Two friendships born at that table,
While rationing a meal;
Each day after, I cooked and baked,
Enough for three to heal.

I now look back and know that He,
Knocked at my door that day;
Not only to help soothe my soul,
But spread sunshine their way.

Community is the backbone,
A bridge to fill our gaps;
The ones where we think life is done,
His plan, still under wraps.

So next time you hear rat a tat tat,
This sound, do not ignore;
For waiting on the other side,
A gift from God and more.

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Click Here to contact Debra Brent to request permission to use this poem.