It was 6 am and warm tears slowly fell from my cheeks that still had the imprints from my comforter still on them. I had scribbled in my journal my thoughts, the ones I would be embarrassed if anyone stumbled upon and read. I wasn’t complaining, but just explaining to God that I can’t seem to find Him. The God I knew Him to be and the One whom I was seeing in my circumstances were not matching up. I desperately needed Him to be the songs that I sang on Sunday mornings; a way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper and light in the darkness. And I needed the lyrics to come alive that He was indeed a good, good Father who was kind and lavished His favor and grace upon His daughter. Because to be honest, lately it’s not only been difficult to believe He was all of those characteristics, but to also find His kindness, favor and grace anywhere I looked. After all, it wasn’t just on the bathroom floor while holding another negative pregnancy test that I haven’t been able to feel His power. I have four other big needs at the moment; which like my struggle to grow my family, also seem impossible to overcome. And as though they are on His back burner; although I told Him there in my journal that I know it isn’t true. It can’t be true. I know that my feelings will often lie. But I asked Him anyway to pick something off my Top Four and show me in some tangible way that He was there and He was working.
Fast forward to a few hours later and my mom comes over to drop off a table cloth. After making small talk she asked if I still needed money for my “fundraiser.” You see, just recently I had a hair-brain crazy idea to raise $10k to help someone within my online infertility support group have their dreams of parenthood come true. It’s one of my needs on the Top Four. So, with her question, I sat down, covered my face, and took a big sigh as I told her I still needed $7500 more. While uncovering my face to look up at her with the intention of explaining how I felt defeated, she handed me an envelope. She said it wasn’t much (compared to my need) but my Dad wanted to donate it (cue the tears). You see, last weekend he sold handcrafted ornaments at a craft show and wanted to donate his profits to help me with this endeavor.
Hours upon hours of spending his free time in his workshop to not keep the money for himself, but to give it away.
(this is where you can cry with me)
I know you can’t see it in this picture, but tucked away inside of that envelope isn’t just money. It also holds his heart. And it holds the heart of my heavenly Father too. Two hearts that want to help one couple no longer hold their dreams within their own wounded heart from hope deferred, but also within their arms.
Within it also holds the tangible reminder I needed: He is a waymaker, miracle worker, promise keeper, and light in the darkness. He is also a good, good Father who is kind and lavishes His favor and grace upon His children.
Thank you to my Poppa God but also my earthly Pa for reminding me that I am loved. I am seen. And I am heard.
Sweet friend, if you are reading this and you need to feel His warm embrace in a tangible way, look up and ask. And then look around for His touch. I hate to admit this, but after I was handed this envelope it took me nearly two hours to make the connection that this was an answer to my prayer today. How many times has He been there working all along but I just failed to recognize Him? May we never fail to see His hand, but if we do, may we always know we can trust His heart.
P.S. I can’t end this post without a few pictures of my Dad’s talent…
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