Bright sun filled the morning sky as Terry navigated his way to our local Habitat for Humanity ReStore center. Despite my cheery family, I was depressed over a weekslong struggle to settle with our insurance company so we might begin replacement of items stolen from our property a month before. When I considered the magnitude of our losses, the task seemed insurmountable. Persevere, came a still, small voice. Tears stung as I felt God’s tender nudge to do the next thing next. God had a plan.
When we arrived at ReStore, our twin daughters were giddy with anticipation. Daddy promised they would find treasures untold, and the girls could hardly wait to get started. I slowed their pace as we entered the store. Mouths agape, the pair studied the warehouse and its endless possibilities.
The place was huge and carried everything imaginable. Gawdy vases and nearly new toilets looked like works of art to the four-year-old girls. When Daddy made his way to the Home Improvement section to search for used cabinets, and appliances, the girls stayed with me to practice sitting nicely on worn out couches and discover comfy chairs with mismatched legs. The girls found beauty in everything they saw. There were no flaws.
When we finished making our rounds, I found Terry measuring cabinets and scrutinizing a dented refrigerator I could tell he did not trust. Terry looked discouraged, and I was about to ask if he had seen enough when I noticed the twins chatting it up with two Hispanic women. I could tell by the women’s awkward expressions that neither understood what the girls were saying. The girls had no idea there was a problem and continued to chitchat. Terry leaned in to tell me that the mother and daughter team the girls had cornered, worked at Habitat for Humanity in exchange for a home that was being built for them by the program.
What a blessing, I thought. My heart went out to them for their plight and for the hard work they were doing to make a life for themselves. It was late in the day, and both women looked weary. Suddenly, the older woman’s legs gave out as she was sweeping. Her daughter moved quickly to take the broom and seated her in a nearby chair. The older woman’s eyes told me she was in a lot of pain, so I moved to collect the girls.
Just then, the girls drew close to the hurting mother and began to sing at the top of their voices.
“Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to him belong, they are weak, but he is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so.”
Instant recognition and a wide smile lit up the woman’s face the moment the girls began to sing. Tears filled her eyes as she joyfully sang along with them in Spanish.
“Cristo me ama, bien lo se…”
Terry and I stood as if frozen in time. We witnessed a sacred moment, and it was not ours to touch. God used our little girls to ease the suffering of a woman and her daughter whose lives were marked by hardship. Now, by God’s grace their lives would be marked by hope in Jesus Christ.
Daddy’s earlier promise that his little girls would find treasure untold that afternoon, was realized by a work that God alone could accomplish.
I returned home that afternoon with a clearer view of what God was doing in my life. God would take care of my needs, and I would commit both blessing and hardship to his care. Both are a gift when they come from his hand.