My Only True Security
Honey, they laid me off,” Daniel said, a sheepish look on his face. “There’s not enough work. I’ll have to find another job.”
I did not want to believe his words, but somehow I responded positively. “It will be all right. We’ll manage.” I hugged him and searched his face for assurance. Five precious boys to feed—we’d figure out a way to do this.
Day after day, Daniel came home after job hunting, stomped into the living room, flipped on the television, and muttered, “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”
Week after week, he searched. Jobs were scarce. The interviewer at one job declared Daniel overqualified. Another interviewer declared him underqualified.
I worked part time, but my salary didn’t pay all the bills. Each week after we squeezed out grocery money, very little was left.
One day, as we pondered what to do, frustration overwhelmed me. My sweet husband’s eyes searched mine as I clenched my teeth.
“It won’t help,” he mumbled. “Anger won’t solve this.” He cleared his throat. “We need to sell some things.”
“What could we sell?” I countered.
His eyes dropped.
“The expensive glassware your dad left you. We could sell the pictures on the walls.” He motioned to them. “Some of the furniture, other stuff we can do without.”
I cried as I realized we must sell our possessions so we could eat, so we pay the light and water bills. It hurt, but I agreed.
Early the next morning, I started cleaning out cupboards, pulling out things we could do without, taking pictures from the walls. I set up tables outside, made a rummage sale sign, and prayed, “God, I don’t want to part with my things, but we need to eat. Oh, God, what should I do?”
As though God wasn’t listening, I saw car after car pull into my driveway. I could scarcely breathe as people bought my possessions, things I treasured.
I can live without these, I told myself.
I didn’t cry until I sold my special picture of Jesus. As long as that picture sat on the small table beside me, I felt God’s presence. After I sold that picture, I felt destitute. I knew God cared, but it felt like everything was being swept away.
At times, I couldn’t see or feel God. Sometimes I grew angry because He didn’t answer my tear-filled prayers. And yet, most of the time, I found myself praying more and leaning on God more. There simply was no one else to lean on, only God. Prayer was my lifeline. I cried out to God, hoping He would answer.
A week later, I discovered we did not have the money to pay the light bill. Thankfully, it was summertime, but no lights? And how would I wash our clothes? If I had enough money, I could go to the laundromat, but how I hated that thought. Washing clothes for a family of seven was not easy. The thought of lugging those clothes somewhere filled me with dread.
That night, I dropped to my knees, praying desperately.
The next morning, I approached Daniel. “Honey, we don’t have the money to pay the light bill. They’ll shut our electricity off in a few days.”
“It will be all right. We’ll make do.” Wrapping his arms around me, he held me tight as I cried.
That next day, I caught the first glimpse of God’s wondrous, miraculous care. When I reached into the mailbox, I expected more bills I could not pay. Instead, I found a letter with a check.
“I felt compelled to send this to you. I hope it helps,” the person had written.
I read the check amount twice. It was the exact amount of our light bill!
I cried with joy as I contemplated God’s provision. Maybe things would get better.
The next day, I headed for the store to buy a few things for supper. As I walked, my mind whirled. We’d missed several house payments. Could we ever catch up? It would take a miracle to do so, but God did miracles, didn’t He?
Gathering my purchases, and rounding up the boys, I headed for home.
As I stepped into the house, I reached into my pocket and discovered three packages of Kool-Aid. I hadn’t bought them, because I wasn’t sure I had enough money. I realized one of my sons had placed them in my pocket—he had wanted Kool-Aid, and I’d told him no. If only I had paid attention! Now I would have to go back and pay for them, since we’d taken them out of the store. But how? We had no money left.
I dug around the house, searching for change. It was another miracle that I actually found enough change to pay for the Kool-Aid.
I cornered the son who’d taken them. “Son, I’m going back to the store to pay for these, and you’re coming with me to apologize for stealing.”
That night as I prepared supper, tears fell like rain. It broke my heart that my sons wanted simple things we couldn’t afford.
At supper, Daniel took my hand in his. “Honey, we need to apply for public aid so we can feed the boys.”
I dropped my head. It was the ultimate disgrace and humiliation to find you couldn’t feed your children by your own hands.
Going to the public aid office was like visiting a foreign country. The woman at the reception desk was kind. The next woman I met, the one who would decide whether or not to help us, was horribly rude and uncaring. She informed me that my husband had not been wise to quit his job.
“My husband did not quit his job. He was laid off,” I replied.
“No, it says here on this form that he quit.”
“Well, he didn’t,” I insisted.
She rolled her eyes. Still, she processed my claim and approved us for food stamps. At the grocery store, people glared at me as I pulled out the food stamps. I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn’t. My sons needed to eat.
For several months, we had been running on empty. The final straw came in a formal letter that announced, “Pay your back house payments or we will foreclose.”
I surveyed our huge lovely home, the large yard with the apple trees and beautiful giant pine. Tears filled my eyes at the thought of leaving, but I knew it was useless. We would have to leave.
We soon received another miraculous glimpse of God’s abiding love. God was slowly moving mountains for us.
A week after the devastating foreclosure letter arrived, Daniel ran inside shouting, “I’ve found a job. It’s fifty miles from here, so we will have to move.” He stopped. “I know you want to stay, but we can’t keep the house. We can’t begin to catch up on the payments, and the job doesn’t pay enough to drive the distance.”
The town we moved to was nice enough. The house we rented was small, cramped, and not so nice—but it was affordable.
I hated the change and yearned to go home. Occasionally we drove past the old house. It sat empty, abandoned. In my mind, I pictured the day we would move back. I was sure God could arrange that for us.
How surprised I was the day I drove by and the house was gone. It had burned to the ground. No pine tree, no apple trees, nothing. I was devastated. So much for my dreams and prayers to return there!
Time passed and lots of prayer before I saw the next miracle. I finally realized that God was pulling me from my comfort zone and turning my life around. He was giving me options. I could decide that I would survive and grow in grace or I could moan and cry over the past.
Even with Daniel’s new job, it was still tough to make ends meet, so I looked for a job. Trusting that God knew what He was doing, I applied for a job at the local hardware store. It was a good match for my skills, so I hoped and prayed.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have any openings,” the owner said.
I fell to my knees that night and prayed again. “God, I need a job, any job.”
Miraculously, two days later, the hardware store owner called and asked if I still wanted a job. One of their employees had decided to retire. I was ecstatic.
With both of us working, we settled into another house, and found our lives coming back together.
Again, God gave me a miraculous glimpse of His love. Our sons settled in at school. Change had not been easy for them, either.
One of our sons deeply wanted to move back to our former town. He let us know how he felt time after time. But after many prayers and tears, all of the boys, even the one who wanted to go back home, finally made new friends.
Like mist clearing from a field, it took me a while to see what God was doing. God gave us each of the houses we lived in as a place to make cherished memories. Those homes were gifts to be enjoyed for certain seasons.
God showed me that no matter where we lived, He would be with us. With each move, He lifted me from my safe world and led me into the real world. I felt God’s touch on my heart as He showed me that He, my God, is my only true security.
So far during my life, God has led me through numerous new paths. Some of them I scarcely endured. But if I look hard enough, and listen carefully and prayerfully, I can always see miraculous glimpses of God’s ever-abiding love and care.