And Then He Answered

We were smack in the middle of the worst of our financial times and my son needed shoes. Badly. He only owned one pair of shoes and they were two-sizes too small and falling apart. We're talkin' holes in the toes and nearly detached soles. But I had no money for shoes, just barely enough for my weekly groceries. Big problem. So, I prayed.

That week, I went to the ATM to remove my weekly grocery money trying to figure out how I could squeeze out enough money for shoes AND still have enough for the supermarket. I was about to put my card into the ATM machine when I noticed that the cash removal slot wasn't empty. Someone had left a $20 bill behind. I pulled it out with mixed emotions, on the one hand wanting to take it and run but also knowing that this money belonged to someone else. No one had been in line ahead of me. I easily could have run off with it and no one would be the wiser. Still, this belonged to someone else and my conscience wouldn't allow me to just take it without trying to return it to it's rightful owner. If I left the money there, the next guy would likely just take it. I prayed that whoever left it would come back to the ATM looking for it and then I waited. No one came.

Still feeling somewhat guilty (though I couldn't really figure out why) I left with the $20 bill after waiting as long as my time would allow. I began believing that just maybe this was God's provision, though I questioned his methodology!

I arrived at the Shoebox hopeful but not expecting anything. I don't normally shop for shoes at the Shoebox. Most of the shoes there are good brand names at discounted prices. (Translated, this means that you can buy a pair of $90-shoes for $60.....) But, my son's feet were a Youth's size 6 at the time, an almost impossible size to find, and I had already checked all of the Walmart-like stores around. Oh, but did I mention he has fine motor skill difficulties and couldn't tie his shoes even though he was 9 years old? We needed to find Velcro ties.....on a Youth size 6 shoe. Yeah, right.

We walked in and went straight for the back room clearance section. The clearance section is the "we've got to get rid of these things" section and is generally a mish mash of sizes and styles. To my shock, there were three pairs of Youth size 6 sneakers, a miracle in and of itself. The very first pair I picked up were Skechers. Not bad. Boy's Youth size 6. Good. With Velcro ties, not shoelaces. I did a double take. Really? Yes indeed. Velcro tie boy's shoes, Skechers no less, Youth size 6.

And the price?

Yup, they were $20 exactly.

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It was the Friday of an unpaid week off from work when I looked through my cupboards and shuddered. There was no check coming that Wednesday and I definitely did not have enough food to stretch until the following week. My husband's carpentry business was doing poorly and we had no idea when his next check would be.

I shot up a prayer out of desperation, inwardly fearing what I'd have to tell the kids when the food ran out. Our friends knew we were having financial difficulty, but no one knew the depth of our trouble. I had gotten tired of telling the same sob story over and over and over again, "we don't have the money," so I just stopped telling it. Not a soul aside from myself knew that we would run out of food before the next pay check came.

When my mother-in-law bustled through the door that night with her usual flair carrying a paper grocery bag, it really didn't phase me at all. She was forever cleaning out her basement, a seemingly bottomless pit of children's books from the 1960s, cake mixes that weren't much younger and well-used tupperware, all of which she brought as "presents" with every visit. I took the bag from her without much thought but audibly gasped when I looked down. It was completely loaded with fresh produce; lettuce, celery, carrots, etc. "We're going on vacation tomorrow and I didn't want all this food to go to waste. I thought you could use it." I hugged her hard and told her how thankful I was, still keeping our dire situation to myself.

The next morning, my oldest daughter came home early from a sleepover to catch her piano lesson (bartered for with carpentry work) at 10 AM. She walked in carrying a plastic grocery bag that looked like it was about to burst. "Renee's mom is making room in her freezer for their next slaughter," (they own a mini farm,) "so she sent this along." There was a lamb roast, hamburger, chicken, and venison; more than enough for a week's worth of meals. At this point, I thought "OK, this is really interesting Lord" but I kept my cool.

THEN, the piano teacher arrived. She quickly scuttled me over to the kitchen where she smiled, grasped my hand and whispered "I came into a little extra this week and I just know this was meant for you." She put a small folded up piece of paper in my hand. I fluttered a little inside, instantly recognizing simultaneously the unmistakable feel of American currency and the complete unlikelihood that this was all just coincidence. When I looked down, the tears spilled over uncontrollably and I looked up at her in amazement. She had given me a one hundred dollar bill. Used carefully, this would cover the remainder of our grocery needs until my next paycheck.

God had answered my prayer, my very real need of food for my family, from not one but THREE sources in the course of 24 hours! I was dumbfounded. It was at this point that I finally understood with my heart the full meaning of Philippians 4:6-7.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

And his peace remains with me still.

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I love to tell stories. My life is full stories. Most of them are mundane and most likely not too far off from your own. "Got up. Went to work. Came home. Went to bed." with lots of "blah, blah, blah" in between. I have more than a few stories, however, that leave my friends with their mouths hanging open. These stories usually involve answers to prayer. Many times after telling one of those stories, I've been told "You should write a book!". Well, I don't know about a book. Anyone who knew me as a kid would laugh themselves silly if they thought I ever spoke enough words to fill a page, let alone a book! I was the awkward, quiet, insecure one who kept to herself and her one friend. Things change. I've decided to tell my stories, one at a time as I get the urge. Maybe my stories will make you laugh or make you cry or make you think or make you roll your eyes. Whatever. They are my stories. And they are all true. I would love to have you grab your coffee and join me periodically as I try to put down in words some of the most amazing answers to prayer that I know. Who knows, maybe I will write a book!

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