When Mark and I were house hunting in 2012 we worked with an amazing realtor and his suggested mortgage finance lady. Besides the fact that us buying a home was an epic act of faith, there was a moment during the process that has always stuck with me.
Our mortgage finance lady was amaze. I only interacted with her via email, but you know how some people work so hard and so well that you can smell it? Even through emails? Well, like after 2 emails I could literally feel the weight of the Holy Spirit telling me to let her know how thankful I am for her. Let her know she is doing a kick ass job. Let her know, Marie. Now.
So I pulled over into a Publix parking lot and sent her an email. “You are amazing and I hope someone in your world is letting you know how grateful they are for you on the regular,” or something like that.
A few months after buying the house I found out that something not so great had happened and the mortgage finance lady was no longer with us. I cried because wow. Who knew?
I’ve thought about that moment often. I don’t know anything about why things happen, but I wonder if God wanted to use me to tell her how much He loved her. I wondered if He burdened my heart with that message because He knew she needed to hear it. And He wasn’t concerned with the fact that we were strangers, He was more than happy to let me deliver His message.
I have faith that God used me that day to write an email.
Fast forward to 2016.
Mark, Otis, and I went to one of our usual parks on Saturday afternoon because there was a bulldozer in the parking lot and that evokes as much excitement as seeing the Beatles in the 60’s for our little guy and since it’s cheaper than Disney Land why not?
So we roam around the park and inspect the bulldozer. We check out the abandoned Christmas trees and consider walking the trail and then decide to start the whole “get healthy” thing later.
The park we were at is on a fairly busy road. Never in a million years have we walked up to the busy road. Never in a trillion years have we crossed the busy road to get to the sidewalk. Never in a bajjillion years have we walked up and down Edmondson Pike as a family.
But today we did because Otis insisted that we cross the street, and because he was being really great we were like, “Sure, let’s keep this lovely family time going as long as possible.”
We cross the street. We walk to the fire hydrant. We turn around to go back to the crosswalk. Right before we get to the light a woman walks up to us.
“That is a big boy! Are you feeding him table scraps?!”
I smile politely the way I always smile when people talk about Otis’s weight.
“Ha, yes. He eats!”
I don’t think the woman is homeless, but she is, for lack of a better word, different.
“Let me tell you something,” she says in an assertive way that makes me straighten up, “This boy is fine, ok? He is going to get tall. All that weight? It’s going to just stretch away. How old is he?”
“Yup. When he’s six it’s all gone. You are going to wonder where it all went. Just make sure he eats fruit every day. Every single day get some fruit in that boy. He is ok.”
“And when it’s all gone? He’s going to start doing all the things he’s supposed to do. Don’t you worry.” She turns to Mark. “You make sure this mama doesn’t worry, ok?”
Mark nods and smiles.
Then she tells us about her recent surgery to remove her ovaries. And how her aunt had a growth on her brain. And why her uncle was getting cremated instead of buried (fyi: money. Cremation is cheaper).
I told you she was different.
“I have got to get going. But don’t you worry about this boy. He’s going to surprise everyone. A/B student. Keep reading your Bible and don’t let Satan in your thoughts.”
“You know you’re an angel, right?” I whisper as I fail miserably at holding back tears.
She walks on and we walk across the street, back to the park.
“Do you think God sent her?” I ask Mark, feeling really dumb for even thinking it.
“Yes. I needed to hear all of that.” And then I start sobbing. I won’t go into details, but she addressed every single thing my heart has been crying out to God about for the last year. Every. single. thing. (Interesting note: This general topic is the only thing I asked for prayer for from my various prayer warriors. And now I’m crying because, “Wow. I am so humbled to have prayer warriors!”)
“Well, if we believe He wants to use us, then we have to believe He wants to use her, too.”
I have faith that God sent that a very different woman to tell me things very few people knew I needed to hear.
God sends the strangest messengers. I’m thankful that He does. I’m thankful that He heard my heart. I’m thankful that my little boy forced us across the street to hear it. I’m thankful that our angel wasn’t afraid to share her words with a random family at the street corner. I’m thankful that my husband shares a faith in a God that would calm your fears through a stranger. I’m thankful.