Saturday, August 07, 2010


     For my first blog post i thought it would be good to give a little about me. But then i decided it might be better to give the testimony that my husband and i now have from events since our marriage. Following is the letter i had typed up and written to a little church in Virginia that had helped us when times were rough. The letter was read out loud by a man at the church just shortly after we had moved. (it was also printed into their church bulletin later)

token - (noun) something serving to represent or indicate some fact, event, feeling, etc.; sign

We had come to the point where we couldn’t take anymore. I was six months pregnant and not working and my husband had recently become unemployed as well. The coming paycheck would not be enough to pay rent and electric or any of our other bills. With only a few dollars in our checking account and our gas tank on empty, going anywhere to apply for another job was out of the question. We were drained financially, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

My husband and I were lying in bed on the second Saturday of the new year and we finally broke down. In tears we prayed a desperate prayer not ready to be homeless again for the third time in less than a year. My husband prayed for something, anything, to show us we weren’t forgotten, just a token of God’s love.

After the long heart-felt prayer my husband decided he would go to a prayer meeting early the next morning. He had stumbled upon the prayer group during an early morning walk a couple months ago. The group met at the local library weekly and invited him in that morning. He kept planning to go back another Sunday but the desire for sleep was greater than his plan. This time, however, we would both make the effort for him to go.

We didn’t drift to sleep until sometime after two and the alarm went off less than four hours later. I got out of bed still half asleep to start the coffee while my husband woke to get ready. He left for the meeting and I tried to get more rest but all I could do was cry and pray. I felt like I had just fallen asleep when my husband got back home to wake me. At the meeting he had told of our hardships and was handed a monetary gift at the end. This brought some financial relief but I was still filled with grief. My husband tried to get me to get out of bed but I didn’t want to move and just wept. He asked if I could be ready in time to try a new church, I promised him I would be and he left the room.

I sent up another prayer so that I might have strength and energy to get through that day and I rolled out of bed. I cried the entire time I was getting ready: during my shower, getting dressed, and even while fixing my hair. The tears wouldn’t cease from flowing. My husband didn’t tell me to stop crying and just continued through the morning as if my tears weren’t even there. He made me breakfast and he was so filled with joy that some had rubbed off on me. We ate then got into the car to leave. Though my eyes were still red and wet I received a compliment from my husband about how beautiful I was that morning.

Before we could make the drive to church we filled our gas tank with part of the gift from earlier that morning. The drive to church took longer than we anticipated but it gave my complexion time to clear of the pain. We arrived late during children’s story time, but we were still welcomed and seated in an empty spot near the back.

It seemed as though every word spoken that morning was intended for us. Children’s story time was about not fearing, songs about faith and trust and a guest speaker whose sermon was about God is in control. We were invited to attend Sunday school so we followed the crowd down the stairs. One of the men from that morning’s prayer group was there and asked if it would be okay to share our situation with the class. The church offered to pray for us but didn’t stop there. They also voted to help us financially and gave us a check.

We sat and listened to the lesson intently and were greeted by many as class finished and dismissed. A woman from the church came up to us and presented us with a jar. She said she didn’t know who she was supposed to give her jar to until that morning. She gave us a book along with the jar to explain it: Christmas Jars by Jason F. Wright.

When we arrived home we opened the jar and it was full of change, mostly silver, and some bills; also in the jar was a golden game token. It took us a while to realize that this token, inscribed with “No cash value,” was really more valuable than we could imagine. For that day our prayer from the night before was clearly answered. We received not only help financially, but also a token – a token of God’s love.

     Anytime my husband begins to tell our story to someone he feels the Spirit come down and touch him. He knows that though we went through a low valley our faith grew stronger through our Lord.

     We still have that token, as well as other items that remind us that: if we have faith, the Lord provides. I will continue to share some of those stories in later posts. Until then, God Bless!

So don't worry about tomorrow,
because tomorrow will have its own worries.
Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:34 (NCV)

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