It’s Fall 2008.  I’m crunching numbers again for our second adoption.  After working three jobs for our adoption, we are still short of our goal to complete the adoption process.  The number is a discouraging amount–too much money to try and just tighten the budget a little more.  I will have to find more work or organize a fundraiser or even both.  My mind tends to get stuck on these kind of details. That’s when I start to worry. But I’m trying something foreign to me: I try to let it go.  Somehow I have to trust God to work it all out.  I’m not sure how or when or where.

The next week at church a guy approaches Sam and me.  I don’t know him, but Sam does and I soon find out we have something in common. We are both adoptive parents.

He says to us, “My wife and I aren’t going to adopt any more children, but we want to help those that are adopting, so we would like to send you some money this week.”

I am a little speechless. I don’t know what to say other than thank you (and somehow that never seems to be enough). Why would they want to give me money? How did they know?

It’s Tuesday and my daughter is outside playing.  It is an exceptionally warm day for November, in the 70’s and we decide to take a walk to the mailbox.  We live in one of those neighborhoods where the mailbox is down the street.  My daughter likes riding her bike to the mailbox or just poking along the sidewalk tripping over uneven slabs of concrete.   The mailbox trip becomes a family affair usually ending with a handful of sale flyers and throw away mail.  But not today. My husband opens a white envelope from the guy at church that we just met.

“Oh my word.” I say.

I look at it once. Then twice. The check is for the exact amount of our adoption shortfall.

We gather hands and say a prayer of thanks to God and then try to explain to our daughter what we just got in the mail.  She doesn’t get it, but she knows God is bringing us a baby. She prays for it almost every night.

My husband calls up the man on the phone to thank him. He cries as he does it. The only other time I remember him crying on the phone was when he called his parents to tell them he was diagnosed with cancer. But this time, his tears are joy.

The next week I read our memory verse for family devotions:

“Our Father knows what we need before we ask him.”

These are the surprises I love.  Things that seem coincidental but aren’t.   The blessings that flow unexpectedly.

Sometimes He provides in ways that are mysterious to us.


1 Comment on Sometimes God Surprises Us

  1. Just read this journal for the first time and how it has touched my heart, could not rest without tears. After praying for you all through the years it is such a blessing to see Gods hand through it all. You are blessed and I am so very sorry I did not take the time to sit and talk to you at the reunion. I saw you one day sitting alone, probably spending time with The Lord, I wanted to sit with you and talk but resisted interrupting you, have wished over and over again That I had, you are very special and I would love to know you better. My prayers continue for you all and you need to come visit us, we would love that and love you also. Aunt Betty

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