Thursday morning I stepped out of my car into the sweltering heat. My glasses fogged as I walked into the office building where I work. Without effort, my thoughts headed down a well-worn path.  I rehearsed the why’s of my current location, the what’s of nature I’d rather be surrounded with, and the how’s of potential change. But the when is not now and the where isn’t settled, so I redirected myself to my work, grumbling a bit and enduring on.

Saturday afternoon I slid into the driver’s seat of my car – literally – slid – onto the seat as my legs were so sweaty the usual struggle of sticking was long past. My face was beat red from the couple of hours I’d spent walking on the concrete in the sun and heat surrounded by the buildings of downtown.

And what was that I felt?gratitude?

I was thankful for the option of turning on the air conditioner, blocking out the sun with a visor, and getting ice out of my freezer at home anytime I wanted to. It was hot, at least as hot as Thursday. But spending a couple of hours serving others who aren’t as fortunate as I am, made all the difference in my heart.  I’m sure the people we met appreciated the ice-cream sandwiches and cold water we shared. But interestingly, none of them were grumbling about the weather. And once again my heart told me it is true: It is more blessed to give than to receive.


May you find the blessings in your own life as well no matter your situation.



The Envelope

The envelope was tucked in the large stack of mail.  I didn’t stop by the rural post office box very often.  I didn’t have a job.  Medical visits were frequent.  Why bother getting the mail?  It would just have more bills.  There were the cards that came as well. They were easy to spot with their colorful envelopes and odd shape.  They were most appreciated.  But this envelope caught my attention.  Hand-written address.  Business sized with security lining.  No return address.  Post mark from Casper, WY – it could have come from a lot of different cities with that post mark.  It was thick and heavy.  I got in my car and opened it up.   My thoughts stopped momentarily.  That’s saying something right there.

Inside the plain envelope was a stack of money – cash – large denominations.  “God, who sent this to me??”  No answer from Him.  I just stared at it.  What do I do with this?  Well, first stop, give 10% to God.  I knew that much.  I kept the rest in the envelope and put it in a drawer.  I’d save it.  For what, I wasn’t sure.

Over the next few months more money came in the mail.  Some large checks, some small, and some cash.  And each time God moved on someone’s heart to share with us, I would pull out that envelope and take 10% to give to God.  It never seemed quite right.  And one day I had some words with God about.

“God, this really doesn’t feel like I am giving You Your tithe.”

“Yes, you are.”  He replied that time.

“But, You gave me this money.  I didn’t earn it.  And now I’m using it to give You tithe.”

“And where do you think the rest of your money comes from?”

“Oh….  Yeah….  You…?”

He winked.  “There you go, My daughter.  Now you’re catching on.”