While I was growing up, I saw Him intervene in wonderful ways for my family many times.
This was one of those moments...
Surgery, a station wagon, church folks and groceries
What do those 4 things have in common?
You're about to find out...
1976. Binghamton, New York. My dad was in his final year of Bible college preparing for the ministry and also worked a full time night shift job.
Dad had to have a hernia repair. Today this is generally done with a scope and often as a day surgery, meaning you get to go home after the procedure. Then, it meant a major incision and several days in the hospital. For a person with a bleeding disorder, like my dad, there were obviously added risks.
The surgery didn't go well. My dad lost a lot of blood and had to be given several pints during the surgery and afterward because the incision kept reopening, causing more blood loss and a severe systemic infection which almost took his life. He was in the hospital for over a month then was unable to work for a while after he came home.
A couple of weeks into his recovery, we all sat at the dining room table one evening for an unusual supper. Present were my mother (8 months pregnant); my dad (still very uncomfortable); my 4- and 10- year old brothers, and me (9 years old).
The menu? Toast. Nothing else, just toast. There was no money coming into the household while my dad was unable to work and therefore, no means to buy any more groceries.
My mom is a very gifted woman in many ways, but the gift I remember most when I was growing up was her ability to make even difficult situations seem a blessing and a fun time for us kids. We ate our toast without complaint and before we left the table, my dad read some Scripture as was the norm in our home.
Then, we prayed. Starting with the youngest, going around the table, my dad asked us all to ask the Lord to provide for our family, telling us he believed God would intervene.
Dad was the last to pray. At the very second he said “Amen,” the doorbell rang. The assistant pastor from our church was at the door, asking if my older brother and I could come outside and help him get something out of his big station wagon.
My dad sent us out and we came back in with bags of groceries, then went back out to get more and repeated this process many times.
My mother was bawling. My dad asked what was going on. They had told no one of their financial situation. My brothers and I had no idea until we ate toast that night. No one knew, except God.
All day long, a steady stream of people had gone to the church saying they felt God was telling them to get food for our family. They completely filled the assistant pastor's office with bags and bags of groceries and when he left for the day, he loaded up his station wagon and there he was.
My mother likes a quiet home. It wasn't quiet that evening as we filled the pantry with the goodness of God and the generosity of His people.
“God is so good!”
“Mom, look! Captain Crunch!”
“Thank You, Lord!”
“Hey, Dad! Pop Tarts!”
(There were obviously many more substantial food items but we were kids.)
After everything was put away, we regrouped at the dining room table. This time, to thank God for His provision.
I have never forgotten that warm New York evening when surgery, a station wagon, church folks and groceries all came together as an opportunity for God to prove His faithfulness to our family once again and glorify His Name.
It is of the Lord's mercies
that we are not consumed,
because his compassions fail not.
They are new every morning:
great is thy faithfulness.
