10:00 p.m. Christmas Eve 1967 found my mom 25 years old with four children under the age of seven and no money. She had just sent to bed 4 kids who were eagerly anticipating what Santa Claus would lay under the tree that night. Unknown to us kids at the time, there was nothing coming, there simply was no money for it that year.
As she sat in the couch weeping, not at all looking forward to the four faces she would be seeing early the next morning, a knock came at the door. Old Mr. Webbee, the head deacon on our church deacon board, was standing outside. He explained that every year on Christmas Eve, the deacons would get together and, out of their own pockets, would pool together their money and give the money raised to the family in the area they believed most needed it. He quietly tucked $50 into her hand and walked away, not even giving her a chance to say "Thank you".
The only store in our part of town in 1967 that was open that late was Toy Barn. As she walked into the store, the manager was putting the finishing touches on a clearance table filled with $10, $20 and $30 toys marked down to $1, $2 and $3. That coupled with stockings filled with all manner of clearance dime toys and penny candies made for a Christmas morning that all four of us remember to this day as the best of the best. It came at a time when Mom was at her lowest and her relationship to God at its most bitter, yet He graciously provided for her and us in spite of that.
Our area has been going through some pretty tough times these last 3 years. My own property has been seeing occupancy rates that barely meet the mortgage, much less payroll and operating expenses. Christmas 2007 was looking pretty bleak, none of us counted on or expected any bonus that might help out,--our own employer had troubles of his own--being grateful just to have jobs and a paycheck that cashed.
Because we live in an area with no public trash service and so relies on private contractors that each homeowner must hire themselves, people were starting to sneak their garbage into our dumpsters late at night to save a bit of money. My job now has the added responsibility to rearrange this late night dumping to make sure our own contractor will remove whatever winds up in there.
Three weeks before Christmas found me going from dumpster to dumpster, ensuring that everything would go when tipped. As I aproached the last one, the sight of the top of this model airplane engine peeking out of a box bid me look further...
Setting my pride aside, I pulled the box out to find, not only the used engine, an OS Max FP Series .40, but also the two new in box FPs shown above. Those, combined with the other things in the box--mostly new, unused R/C aircraft parts and tools--netted a sizable chunk of change on Ebay. Unknown to me at the time, my finances would take an unexpected hit the last week before the holiday, leaving the monies gained by this find as the sole source of money for my children's gifts.
Needless to say, that old engine sits on my shelf as a reminder of God's unmerited favor on an unworthy and all too often unthankful man and his family.
And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear.
For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another. But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared, Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost; Which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Saviour; That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life. This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works. These things are good and profitable unto men.
May your own eyes be open to His marvelous provision in these weeks before Christmas.
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