Counterfeit Coins
Two weeks ago I was feeling really down. Insecure, depressed. I had dreams of being rejected, feelings of isolation, and woke up still in that fog.
Saturday I walked to the mailbox and saw two letters. For me! No ads, no bills, no Direct TV fake-outs that I always think are party invitations (They've got some good marketing people, lemme tell you). Two real, handwritten cards. One from my cousin, one from a woman at church who I don't know terribly well. Both brought the tears and instantly gave me encouragement.
To think that God must've spurred them to write those letters the week before and post them in time for me to open them on Saturday.
At church on Sunday Asher and Zimrie, both over-zealous with their newly acquired name-writing skills, got a pen and signed up to bring snacks the following week. It was funny and cute. And, of course, no one expected them to actually do it, but I wanted to use it as an opportunity to teach them a lesson--that our actions have consequences. That we are responsible for what we say. So I told them that they would be baking snacks with me. This is snacks for about 100 people, and it's supposed to be simple. But it was at the end of the month and since my grocery budget was shot, I started to mentally go through my cabinets at home. What do I have to bring? A bag of apples. A dozen eggs. I always have oatmeal.
I went to thank the lady who had written me the card, tell her it was exactly what I needed to hear that day. And she says, "I noticed Asher signed up for snacks next week. Could I bring some cakes and veggies to supplement?"
Something so small brought me relief. Yes! If you're sure you don't mind!
Next Saturday the boys and I stir up the oatmeal. They add the milk, the cinnamon, the brown sugar. We hard-boil the eggs. They help me cover the pans with foil when they cool.
Then we go to visit our neighbor. Their favorite. The one from Georgia with the dogs. She moved here not long ago, and the first time we went to say hello, she was watching Anne of Green Gables on her VCR. I knew then that I would like her. Asher has decided to ask her to Grandparent's Day at school since we have no grandparents here and "Grand-friends" are encouraged. He signs his name on an invitation, and we take it to her with some cookies.
She is thrilled to be asked, but unfortunately can't come. She will be going to the dentist to have three teeth pulled on Tuesday.
We go to church on Sunday, and the boys carry in their heavy 9x13s of baked oatmeal. I carry the fruit and eggs and cheese. Lori brings two cakes, cookies, and carrots and celery, cut clean, fresh, symmetrical. When church is over, she is gone already and they send home the veggies with me.
I take those veggies home, and on Tuesday, I chop them up and make chicken noodle soup. We put it in a quart jar, still warm, wrap it in a dish towel, and take it over to Ms. Patricia. We give it to her and tell her we hope she gets some rest. The neighbor boys walk her dogs.
When school started this August, Ms. Patricia brought us a check, said that God told her to give it to us, and that she knows the start of school is expensive. What fun it was to let the boys pick out new water bottles and a Spiderman lunchbox! What a gift--to not have to worry about where the extra funds would come out of our stringent budget.
Asher gave me the coupon book meant for his grandparents. The first coupon I redeemed was for a big kiss, much to his dismay. The second was for a date night. At first I wanted to tease him--he gives me the coupon, and I take him out and have to pay for this date! That's just what we did, but I didn't say anything about it.
We got dressed up, he picked me flowers, asked me to wear one in my hair. We went to a Chinese Buffet where he got mozzarella sticks and Jello, of course. And then at the end, I said it was nice sometimes if you pay for the other person on the date. He said, "Can I pay for us?"
I hand him my credit card and he hands it to the cashier.
I say "thank you," and she offers to give more.
I take home the vegetables, make soup, and give it to my neighbor.
I open the mailbox and see providence.
God gives us what we have to give.
However small.
However big.
The motivation, the opportunity, the thing itself.
We only have what God has given us. Even our faith, even our trust.
Like the Mewithoutyou lyrics:
Then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay
You see my coins are counterfeit
But accept them anyway
Saturday I walked to the mailbox and saw two letters. For me! No ads, no bills, no Direct TV fake-outs that I always think are party invitations (They've got some good marketing people, lemme tell you). Two real, handwritten cards. One from my cousin, one from a woman at church who I don't know terribly well. Both brought the tears and instantly gave me encouragement.
To think that God must've spurred them to write those letters the week before and post them in time for me to open them on Saturday.
At church on Sunday Asher and Zimrie, both over-zealous with their newly acquired name-writing skills, got a pen and signed up to bring snacks the following week. It was funny and cute. And, of course, no one expected them to actually do it, but I wanted to use it as an opportunity to teach them a lesson--that our actions have consequences. That we are responsible for what we say. So I told them that they would be baking snacks with me. This is snacks for about 100 people, and it's supposed to be simple. But it was at the end of the month and since my grocery budget was shot, I started to mentally go through my cabinets at home. What do I have to bring? A bag of apples. A dozen eggs. I always have oatmeal.
I went to thank the lady who had written me the card, tell her it was exactly what I needed to hear that day. And she says, "I noticed Asher signed up for snacks next week. Could I bring some cakes and veggies to supplement?"
Something so small brought me relief. Yes! If you're sure you don't mind!
Next Saturday the boys and I stir up the oatmeal. They add the milk, the cinnamon, the brown sugar. We hard-boil the eggs. They help me cover the pans with foil when they cool.
Then we go to visit our neighbor. Their favorite. The one from Georgia with the dogs. She moved here not long ago, and the first time we went to say hello, she was watching Anne of Green Gables on her VCR. I knew then that I would like her. Asher has decided to ask her to Grandparent's Day at school since we have no grandparents here and "Grand-friends" are encouraged. He signs his name on an invitation, and we take it to her with some cookies.
She is thrilled to be asked, but unfortunately can't come. She will be going to the dentist to have three teeth pulled on Tuesday.
We go to church on Sunday, and the boys carry in their heavy 9x13s of baked oatmeal. I carry the fruit and eggs and cheese. Lori brings two cakes, cookies, and carrots and celery, cut clean, fresh, symmetrical. When church is over, she is gone already and they send home the veggies with me.
I take those veggies home, and on Tuesday, I chop them up and make chicken noodle soup. We put it in a quart jar, still warm, wrap it in a dish towel, and take it over to Ms. Patricia. We give it to her and tell her we hope she gets some rest. The neighbor boys walk her dogs.
When school started this August, Ms. Patricia brought us a check, said that God told her to give it to us, and that she knows the start of school is expensive. What fun it was to let the boys pick out new water bottles and a Spiderman lunchbox! What a gift--to not have to worry about where the extra funds would come out of our stringent budget.
Asher gave me the coupon book meant for his grandparents. The first coupon I redeemed was for a big kiss, much to his dismay. The second was for a date night. At first I wanted to tease him--he gives me the coupon, and I take him out and have to pay for this date! That's just what we did, but I didn't say anything about it.
We got dressed up, he picked me flowers, asked me to wear one in my hair. We went to a Chinese Buffet where he got mozzarella sticks and Jello, of course. And then at the end, I said it was nice sometimes if you pay for the other person on the date. He said, "Can I pay for us?"
I hand him my credit card and he hands it to the cashier.
I say "thank you," and she offers to give more.
I take home the vegetables, make soup, and give it to my neighbor.
I open the mailbox and see providence.
God gives us what we have to give.
However small.
However big.
The motivation, the opportunity, the thing itself.
We only have what God has given us. Even our faith, even our trust.
Like the Mewithoutyou lyrics:
Then in a market dimly lit I come casually to pay
You see my coins are counterfeit
But accept them anyway
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