I stared out the van window at the sunny winter sky, willing my raging emotions to quiet. We all knew we were late to church again. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, even with Mike’s help I could not get us there in time.

“How late will we be? Should we even go?” Our oldest asked, echoing my thoughts. “About ten minutes. Yes, we are going,” I replied as calmly as I could. None of this was his fault. Self-control. Don’t lash out. Don’t snap. This is a joyful day. Focus on why we are going. Obedience. That word had willed me out of bed. Sickness, stress, and chronic insomnia had me worn thin. The kids fell silent as they sensed my emotional state.

The tires rotated in sing-song down the road, “Failure, failure, you’re a failure.” My thoughts accused me, “What kind of a Proverbs 31 wife are you anyway? She does him good and not evil all the days of her life, and you can’t even get out the door for crying out loud.” I love You, Jesus. I want to obey You. I need Your rest. I’m exhausted. Why can’t I just get it together? Please help me get it together.  

On the bright side, we’d arrive after everyone was already tucked away inside the church, so our odds of being spotted in my husband’s van were lessened. My minivan and my husband’s work truck were on the fritz, so that left Mike’s awesome 80’s Toyota 4×4 white work van to get our family of six from A to B. I grudgingly glanced around the interior. If only we could go back in time and make better choices, we wouldn’t be in this financial position. We wouldn’t be in this thing. Thankful. I am thankful. Lord, please provide and set us free from this crushing debt. Please change our story.

One of my friends teasingly dubbed our ride “Mike’s gnarly van”. Gnarly of the “piece of junk” or “cool, quirky vibe” variety, I didn’t ask. Maybe both. My opinion waffled between the two. If we were missionaries in some third world country, I would be thrilled to have this ride. But we were in America, and driving anywhere in this van, much less with four kids, brought looks of pity or judgment. Would I even care what we were driving if other people didn’t? Nope.

Besides, Mike loves this thing. My husband is way cooler than I am. He has a laid-back style I wish I could emulate. Who cares what other people think? Not Mike. I could see his vision to transform this treasure into a Pinzgauer-inspired camping rig we could haul the kids around in, bouncing along on mountain roads and forgotten trails. One day he will have the time to tinker with it. He can fix just about anything—a quality in a husband I specifically asked God for long before we ever met.

We arrived late, as expected, but it was worth it. It was one of those encouraging services when God speaks right to your heart. When you get to pray with church family, sharing hugs and a few tears that fill your spiritual love-tank, while all the kids run around chasing each other. Our little family left happy, thankful we had made it to church. On the way home, Mike stopped at a shopping center and went inside the credit union to use the ATM. Our kids and I waited in the awesome van. They were in their post-church bliss, getting along well, which made this mama happy.

Suddenly, I became aware I was in the gnarly van so I slouched down in my seat a bit and looked at my phone. Oh brother. Get over yourself, Kim. God, please forgive me for my embarrassment over this van. It is a gift from You. Why am I being so superficial? Lord, You know where I’ve been. You know where I come from.

You see, I was homeless as a child. My family lived in a motel and, when things got worse, with whoever would take us in. When my mom became a brave single mama, she worked hard to provide for her girls. She rented a charming little house and often went without food so my sister and I could eat. Our home was broken into six times in one year, but my mom stayed strong for us. Then our neighbor friend told my mom about Jesus. I remember them talking through the chain-link fence in the backyard, the golden California sunlight surrounding them before dusk as I played. My mom wistful, hopeful. God turned everything around for us. He became my Father and within months He gave me a new daddy, brother, and two more sisters. God had blessed us abundantly, beyond anything we had ever asked for or thought of. If this van gave my children—or reminded me of—any lesson in thankfulness, humility, and compassion I was grateful. Thank You, God. You are so faithful.

After a few minutes, a knock on my door startled me. A lady stood outside, looking anxious. She glanced nervously toward the back of the van, and I assumed she was going to tell me there was something wrong with it. Maybe a taillight was busted. Or maybe she needed help. I shifted toward her in my seat and opened the door.

“I’m sorry, this is going to sound crazy,” she started hesitantly, shaking. Oh no. “But I need to do this. I just came from church and God is telling me to give you this and I need to obey so I don’t lose my reward.”

She shoved a trembling hand towards me, willing me to take something. I looked down at it for a moment until my brain registered she was offering me money.

“Thank you, but—“
“Please,” she interrupted, pressing the money towards me, “I don’t want to lose my reward.”

Every fiber of my being said not to take it. Voices of people accusing me of being stubborn chorused in my mind. I looked past her and saw a young woman, maybe her daughter, staring up at me expectantly from the passenger seat of her red car, parked in the space beside ours.

“Thank you,” I choked out and smiled. I willed my hand to hers. She beamed with joy as she pressed the money into my hand.

She left as quickly as she appeared. I shut the van door and kept my eyes on my lap until she pulled out of her parking spot.  I looked at the smartphone in my hands with shame. It was worth more than the vehicle we were sitting in. I shook off the condemning thought and sat in awe.

Lord, thank You. Thank You for sending that woman to show me You see me and You care. You will provide for us in Your grace. Thank You for showing me obedience is always worth it.

“What did she give you, Mom?” the kids asked, astonished by what they’d just seen.
“She gave me money,” I replied.
They asked me to count it. “Thirty dollars. Wasn’t that sweet of her?”
“But, why? Why did she give you money?”
“Because she thought we needed it. We should pray for God to bless her.”
They agreed.

Mike got in a few minutes later.
The kids spoke over each other, “A lady just gave Mom thirty dollars!”
He chuckled, surprised. “Why did she give you thirty dollars?”
“I think she thought we needed it,” I replied, eyebrows raised, nodding to the van.
“Wow, this thing is paying off!” He quipped in his care-free Mike-style.

As the kids enjoyed the rumbly ride home, I chatted with Mike about how I had been feeling that morning and how the woman’s gift was from God to encourage me. “I feel like this money should be spent on something special, but I’m not sure what. I’m just going to hold onto it. Is that okay?”
“Sounds good,” he agreed.

I tucked the thirty dollars away in my wallet and thought about what God wanted me to do with it. I couldn’t just buy pizza with it, although that would be a rare treat for our family. I thought about how little thirty dollars was to some people, and how much it was to others. I was reminded how none of our money is truly ours. Maybe we wouldn’t be in debt had we treated every thirty dollars to cross our hands like it was God’s to spend. The weight of the responsibility of those thirty dollars weighed on me heavily. This money was special and I knew it wasn’t meant for me. God had a greater purpose for it.

Two nights later, my neighbors’ house burned down. By God’s grace, my new neighbors—a widow and her four girls—had just left to run an errand and were safe. The next morning she was outside, looking over the charred remains of her home, her dreams broken.

Lord, Mike hasn’t been paid yet. What can I do for her? And I knew. I took the thirty dollars out of my wallet and headed up the hill. It wasn’t much, but maybe it could buy pizza and comfort for a mama and her girls. “This is going to sound crazy…”

“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”
Ephesians 3:20-21

~~~~~~

To the lady with the red car: You didn’t know I was your sister in Christ. May God multiply your reward in heaven and pour out His blessings on you here on earth!

“The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.”’
Numbers 6:24-26

“The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work. As it is written,
“He has distributed freely, He has given to the poor;
His righteousness endures forever.”
He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, which through us will produce thanksgiving to God. For the ministry of this service is not only supplying the needs of the saints but is also overflowing in many thanksgivings to God. By their approval of this service, they will glorify God because of your submission that comes from your confession of the gospel of Christ, and the generosity of your contribution for them and for all others, while they long for you and pray for you, because of the surpassing grace of God upon you. Thanks be to God for His inexpressible gift!”
2 Corinthians 9:6-15