Speechless

Because I know so many families in the same boat, I haven't mentioned that our family has been going through a hideous time financially. The Recession, during the first couple years, didn't seem to hit our family much at all, but as everyone--even the moneybags--had to start tightening their belts, "extras" were cut...like landscapers. And when Landscapers aren't needed anymore, that means we're out of a job. It's an old, old story and we certainly aren't the original Dorrits, and I don't like to focus on it, so I haven't mentioned it much. You know. The less you think about it, the less it bothers you.

Throughout the month of December we received SO many financial blessings that happened in crazy ways. It was humbling, truly. Sometimes it was a family we know who dropped off huge loads of fresh fruit they had picked up for their farm from the food bank. Sometimes it was the bit of money left in Dad's wallet after church on Sunday. Once it was the 50 dollar bills scattered through the house by a generous and secret giver. Once it was the freshly killed doe a friend of ours shot for us that provided 60 or 70 pounds of good, fresh, all-natural meat for our table. I have seldom felt more love and support through family and friends' generosity than I have in the past few months.

Until today.

The first few seconds of my morning were pretty much average. I slowly fluttered to consciousness and cracked open my eyes just enough to notice Abigail Taylor packing her things in preparation for going home. I yawned, stretched, and then it happened.

A scuffle downstairs.

Shouting.

Yelling.

A charge up the stairs and the sound of Dad crying.

Dad crying?

Benjamin busts into our room. "GUYS!" he yells. "SOMEONE LEFT A VAN IN OUR DRIVEWAY!"

Abby pushed past him. "AND MONEY! AND A GIFTCARD!"

My sleep-drugged brain had a hard time processing this information. I squinted across the room at Sarah who looked much like I felt. We both looked at the doorway full of excited kids. "What?" I heard Dad crying and talking to Mama in the hallway. Sarah and I tumbled out of bed and pulled on our day clothes, then spilled downstairs with the rest of the family.

"We thought it was Jehovah's Witnesses!" Abigail offered.

We stood there shivering in the damp, cold grass and stared at the beautiful 12 passenger van parked in our driveway. Inside was a gift-card and money to go out to dinner as an entire family--something we never do. And more money--enough to make our next mortgage payment.

Some of us were crying, overwhelmed by the relief and joy pouring over us--I don't know how the giver knew, but we've been out of a vehicle that fits our family since June. And we've been behind on mortgage payments. There was a card tucked in amongst the money and things. The only signature? James 1:17

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."

We took it for a short test-drive--the whole family piled in the car--and bit by bit it started to sink in through my brain just exactly how monumental this gift was:

A van (with a full tank of gas)--that means that we can go places as a family without having to take two cars. We can be together. We can go on a roadtrip if we want to!

The giftcard--We can go out to dinner and not have to hope they'll give us free chips to counteract that price of feeding a dozen people.

The money-- Through the generosity of the Shadow-Giver(s), God has provided our mortgage payment this month. I hope the Shadow-Giver understands just how huge this is to Dad, especially, but to all of us. The van is an enormous gift and one that we are still in awe over. I think I'll need 3 days at least to fully comprehend it. But the money--? I know it takes a huge burden off Dad's shoulders as a provider who finds provision hard to come by.

So dear, dear Shadow-Giver....I hope you read this. Somehow. I hope you know that if you were standing here, whether you liked it or not, I'd fly at you with a hug and possibly bury my face in your shoulder and cry just because. I hope you know that you will go down in the annals of the Heffington family as a legend of God's providence. I hope you know that you made me cry and you gave me hope, and I am just praying as hard as I ever can that God blesses you beyond all you could ask and imagine. You've given us more than a van and some money, Shadow-Giver. You've given us a hug straight from God--an assurance that He's got our back and He sees our needs and understands them. You've given us a love-gift. I know that somewhere out there you are sitting back, wondering what our morning was like.
If you want to know what our morning was like, Shadow-Giver, just think of any of the most precious moments in movie history. Think of the Extreme Makeover "revealings". Think of barefooted children bouncing up and down and yelling. Think of a strong man reduced to tears and prayers of gratefulness. Think of smiles and hugs and repeated oaths of "how can this be?" In short, think of joy--unsullied, pure joy--and you'll have a general idea of the effect of your gift.

Thank you. Thank you so so much.

I know you don't want to be found out, and I respect that. But I wish there was someway I could thank you. And I pray, somehow, that I can be a Shadow-Giver too. Because this gift has been the brightest, most amazing way to crack in 2013.

-Rachel