"Someone said you needed help - Don't Delete"
That was the subject line of the email. Oh, how many times we've gotten emails promising "help" if we'll just fork over our social security number or address. Todd, for some reason, gets quite a bit of them and he's begun a little game by reading them and seeing what they promise.
He forwarded the email to me and I received it on my phone...as I'm trying to negotiate (badly) downtown Charlotte traffic.
"I heard through a mutual friend that your family is having a rough time. That person and I choose to remain anonymous."
This is so not starting out like the other emails. The anonymity of it is sort of similar...but now they're talking about some pretty private stuff. I missed my turn.
"But I've been in your situation and know how hard it can be. Someone once helped me & wouldn't let me pay them back. They asked me to pay it forward."
Okay, I've heard about "pay it forward" deals. I think the first time I heard it was in Chick Fil A. There was a long line around the drive through and when I finally reached the window, the cashier explained that my meal had been paid for with the only instructions from the donor was to pay it forward. The long line was from her having to explain to each car about the gift because once received, they immediately paid for the meal behind them. I missed another turn. My GPS was not happy with me.
"So that's what I'm doing. I was looking for a family that could really use the help like I once did and a friend suggested you and gave me your information."
At this point, I'm shaking. Surely not. We don't deserve this kind of gift. Surely there are strings attached...surely this is some sort of scam! I missed another turn but at this point, don't care.
"I sent you [an amount I won't disclose but that's more than I would even have prayed for] via Western Union. Through the information I received from your friend, I sent it to Michael Todd Shore. I hope that is correct. You need your licence to pick it up at any Western Union location and the control # which is [withheld from this blog]. I hope this helps your family. Love, Susie Helperouter :-)"
I don't remember the next few minutes very well. I was driving and my GPS was yelling at me but I was completely ignoring it. I hit the speed dial on my phone and called Todd.
Wouldn't it be really mean if I said right here it was a scam or cruel joke? Just making sure I have you hooked...
I asked Todd if he thought it was a scam. He said no. I asked him if someone really sent us [the amount] and he said he knew they did. I shook my head and asked how. He said, "I went to Western Union. It's legit."
WHAT!?
If you're reading this blog, you're one of our most trusted friends. But we've held our situation pretty close to the vest. I can't begin to imagine who would know enough to tell someone we've been struggling. And of that pool, those who know Todd's full name are even fewer.
To try and figure out who knew and said something, in my opinion, cheapens the gift. Even still being in shock, I know that much.
My immediate response is thank you. If you were the "friend" or even the donor, know that you have helped more than you could possibly know. And if none of you are either, I pray that this story will be a reminder to you of God's grace, His provisions and how very much He loves us - even though we don't deserve it.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
A Black Box
Have you ever felt like you've been living in a black box? I sat in church today and looked around at people that I truly care about. I wondered what they've been up too lately. I wondered what their hurts were, what they were rejoicing in and how their lives were going.
You may ask yourself "if you really care about them, don't you know these things?"
And my answer is no...because I've been living in a black box. It was so dark in the box that I couldn't see anything outside of it.
As many of you know, life turned uber challenging for us last November. The loss of Todd's job/ministry has plagued our lives in ways we never even imagined.
Then, over the summer, he was blessed by being the part-time, temporary children and youth minister for FBC Laurinburg. Over the course of 10 weeks, I watched my husband come back to life. Even though we knew it was temporary, the experience of leading a youth and children's ministry and working with their pastor was worth the sacrifice. During the summer, he connected with teenagers and loved on children in ways he never thought he would again. On the last Sunday there, he told them they'd given him his purpose back. Those words were so refreshing to my soul. I have to admit there were days I was scared too death when he didn't answer his cell phone. Having my husband back - the man I've loved for almost 20 years - is more than I hoped for, more than I expected God to give me and certainly more than I deserve.
I am not proud that my faith waivered during the last few months. I tried to stay strong. I tried to stay connected to my church (as much as one can when your family is scattered between four counties most of the summer). I tried to stay connected to friends - or at least I thought I did.
I have been able to see God work - regardless of my disconnect from Him. He, no doubt, pulled us through. He, no doubt, provided me with a strength I never had. He, no doubt, prompted the prayers offered on our behalf. He, no doubt, held Todd up as he struggled through.
This week I have felt like the lid has begun to lift off the box. I have hope again that things are going to work out. I see my husband excelling at school, making new friends and improving his self-esteem. My children, although still going through transition to the new schools, seem to be adjusting well. The transition into my new position is going well. I am beginning to see Light come into the darkness.
We still have struggles, no doubt. We are still weak in many areas of our lives and I am sure our struggles are not over.
But there's hope. And peace. And a renewing that only comes from Him.
And I am so grateful.
You may ask yourself "if you really care about them, don't you know these things?"
And my answer is no...because I've been living in a black box. It was so dark in the box that I couldn't see anything outside of it.
As many of you know, life turned uber challenging for us last November. The loss of Todd's job/ministry has plagued our lives in ways we never even imagined.
Then, over the summer, he was blessed by being the part-time, temporary children and youth minister for FBC Laurinburg. Over the course of 10 weeks, I watched my husband come back to life. Even though we knew it was temporary, the experience of leading a youth and children's ministry and working with their pastor was worth the sacrifice. During the summer, he connected with teenagers and loved on children in ways he never thought he would again. On the last Sunday there, he told them they'd given him his purpose back. Those words were so refreshing to my soul. I have to admit there were days I was scared too death when he didn't answer his cell phone. Having my husband back - the man I've loved for almost 20 years - is more than I hoped for, more than I expected God to give me and certainly more than I deserve.
I am not proud that my faith waivered during the last few months. I tried to stay strong. I tried to stay connected to my church (as much as one can when your family is scattered between four counties most of the summer). I tried to stay connected to friends - or at least I thought I did.
I have been able to see God work - regardless of my disconnect from Him. He, no doubt, pulled us through. He, no doubt, provided me with a strength I never had. He, no doubt, prompted the prayers offered on our behalf. He, no doubt, held Todd up as he struggled through.
This week I have felt like the lid has begun to lift off the box. I have hope again that things are going to work out. I see my husband excelling at school, making new friends and improving his self-esteem. My children, although still going through transition to the new schools, seem to be adjusting well. The transition into my new position is going well. I am beginning to see Light come into the darkness.
We still have struggles, no doubt. We are still weak in many areas of our lives and I am sure our struggles are not over.
But there's hope. And peace. And a renewing that only comes from Him.
And I am so grateful.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
A New Heart
I was very young – maybe seven. I’ve read studies that say we don’t remember anything before about five years old and that between five and seven, we don’t remember specific things that happened to us. I remember many things about my early childhood – very specific things.
For a long time I doubted whether it was a real salvation experience. I didn’t understand what I was doing, didn’t understand what was required of me and had never heard of God or Jesus. But the seed was definitely planted.
I was staying with our next door neighbor. She was a single lady whom my parents relied on when they needed her but otherwise bad-mouthed her behind her back. Undoubtedly, she’d been told I was a “bad child.” From the time I was five years old, I’d been labeled a bad child so by the time I turned seven, I was used to it.
I was sitting on a bed. The walls were green and the bedspread was white – the kind that had those little white balls in a pattern on top. The curtains were those white sheers that let in lots of light and smelled funny.
My neighbor told me there was a man that could give me a new heart. I covered my chest with both hands in case he was nearby. She went on to explain that if I asked this man to give me a new heart, he would and then I would be a good little girl. She said that my new heart would help me do what my mother and step-father said to do and that I would be sweet and good. I very much wanted this new heart, but I was afraid it would hurt. She told me that the heart was not in my body but more in my mind. She talked about that little voice I could hear in my head and how that was part of the heart. She said even that little voice would be different – everything would be different and I’d be a good little girl and that my parents would love me again because I was good.
She explained that the man who would give me a new heart was God’s Son and His name was Jesus. She said God, the Father, made everything on earth kind of like how I make stuff when I play with Play-Doh.
She asked me if I wanted this new heart from this Man. She asked me if I wanted to be good again. I said I did and she told me to close my eyes. She asked the man to give me a new heart and make me good again. She thanked Him for my new heart and for me being good again. Then she told me I could open my eyes.
I didn’t feel any different. The little voice didn’t sound different. My chest didn’t hurt. But she assured me that I had a new heart and that I was going to be good again. Then, we went to the kitchen where she made me a bologna and mustard sandwich.
As I said earlier, I doubted this experience as a true salvation experience for a long time. I was so young, the wording was not “normal” for a salvation prayer and I didn’t fully understand what was going on.
I know there’s a little more to it. We need to understand who God is, who Jesus is and how their roles are key to our salvation. We need to understand the sacrifice. I’m not belittling that at all.
But – think about this – when we ask Jesus to forgive our sins and to make us whole again through Him, aren’t we at the very core asking Him to give us a new heart and make us good again? And if we ask Him to make us good again, aren’t we by default admitting we’re bad/sinful? And after we ask Him, don't we have complete and total faith that He has forgiven us, regardless of how we feel?
"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws." Ezekiel 36:26-27
For a long time I doubted whether it was a real salvation experience. I didn’t understand what I was doing, didn’t understand what was required of me and had never heard of God or Jesus. But the seed was definitely planted.
I was staying with our next door neighbor. She was a single lady whom my parents relied on when they needed her but otherwise bad-mouthed her behind her back. Undoubtedly, she’d been told I was a “bad child.” From the time I was five years old, I’d been labeled a bad child so by the time I turned seven, I was used to it.
I was sitting on a bed. The walls were green and the bedspread was white – the kind that had those little white balls in a pattern on top. The curtains were those white sheers that let in lots of light and smelled funny.
My neighbor told me there was a man that could give me a new heart. I covered my chest with both hands in case he was nearby. She went on to explain that if I asked this man to give me a new heart, he would and then I would be a good little girl. She said that my new heart would help me do what my mother and step-father said to do and that I would be sweet and good. I very much wanted this new heart, but I was afraid it would hurt. She told me that the heart was not in my body but more in my mind. She talked about that little voice I could hear in my head and how that was part of the heart. She said even that little voice would be different – everything would be different and I’d be a good little girl and that my parents would love me again because I was good.
She explained that the man who would give me a new heart was God’s Son and His name was Jesus. She said God, the Father, made everything on earth kind of like how I make stuff when I play with Play-Doh.
She asked me if I wanted this new heart from this Man. She asked me if I wanted to be good again. I said I did and she told me to close my eyes. She asked the man to give me a new heart and make me good again. She thanked Him for my new heart and for me being good again. Then she told me I could open my eyes.
I didn’t feel any different. The little voice didn’t sound different. My chest didn’t hurt. But she assured me that I had a new heart and that I was going to be good again. Then, we went to the kitchen where she made me a bologna and mustard sandwich.
As I said earlier, I doubted this experience as a true salvation experience for a long time. I was so young, the wording was not “normal” for a salvation prayer and I didn’t fully understand what was going on.
I know there’s a little more to it. We need to understand who God is, who Jesus is and how their roles are key to our salvation. We need to understand the sacrifice. I’m not belittling that at all.
But – think about this – when we ask Jesus to forgive our sins and to make us whole again through Him, aren’t we at the very core asking Him to give us a new heart and make us good again? And if we ask Him to make us good again, aren’t we by default admitting we’re bad/sinful? And after we ask Him, don't we have complete and total faith that He has forgiven us, regardless of how we feel?
"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws." Ezekiel 36:26-27
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