Coffee and a Fifty
I am the only one up. It is summer, and hot already even though it’s early. I take my morning walk, hiking along the cliffs of Martinez Canyon, praying and talking non-stop to God about the problems in the world. This was last summer when I was beginning to see more clearly where we are headed as a nation. I was serious. I am often serious.
My neighbor doesn’t know it yet, but I am planning to offer him a deal. I will mow his lawn for just fifty bucks! Now that’s a smokin’ deal because his lawn is high and there’s a lot of it! I don’t include God in my thoughts about my plan though, and I don’t even ask Him for help. All I know is, we need milk and gas. I have prayed for my town, my family, the Department of Human Services, the schools and myself. I have wept bitterly for the abused and wounded children in this town, this state, our nation and even the world. This is the summer (2010) when I can’t sleep and I can’t stop praying. I am exhausted from fasting and praying and when I finally arive to my favorite cliff overlooking Chimney rock I hear God ask, “Can I talk now?”
Oh. I– I had no idea. What was I doing? How selfish. I was so full of myself and my troubles and my ideas, my worries, my prayers. I appologized, sat down on a rock and just listened. He shared His heart then. We cried together. “I didn’t know that You needed to pour out your heart too,” I said. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t easy because I was so used to doing most of the talking. That’s when our relationship began to change.
If God was still walking in our midst you would have seen Him walking back to the house with me, holding my hand. I didn’t remember my plot to make fifty bucks until we were a block away from my house. “Why don’t I just give you the fifty dollars,” said the Lord. I was so tired I welcomed His suggestion but did I hear right?
An hour later I am running errands and dropping off papers to a friend for signing. Before I leave she asks me to wait. She goes to her cash register and hands me fifty bucks. “God told me to give this to you.” I tell her what I just told you. We tear up and feel God hugging us both.
Thank you God.
Today, I am counting quarters, dimes, nickles and then pennies. We need eggs. I load up the quarters, and bring my tin antique coffee can clinking with coins in the truck with me to the store. I might have $7.00. This time I am talking to God about it. It’s not like He doesn’t know, but we are together in this.
I am able to bring to the check out eggs, cream cheese (even with a huge price increase!), Roma tomatoes and sale doghnuts beautifully decorated for the girls. Thank you God. I also bring a bag of whole bean Starbucks coffee to the check out hoping for a miracle or that I might have enough in one of my bank accounts– it’s risky, I could end up with an overdraft charge. I set it aside as I check myself out and weigh the cost of trying my debit card. I have just decided to forgo the coffee when a friend in the self-check out next to me says hi and points out I have forgotten my coffee. I tell him I’m waiting to see if I have enough as I feed the register all of my coins. He hands me a ten dollar bill.
My heart skips a beat. Thank you God.