God has started to embolden me in new ways and I'm beginning to stretch out toward the bigger goals he has for me. It's like stretching for the finish line at a race. It makes a difference--the reaching and stretching.
Almost two weeks ago I got a lead on some new Hot Wheels cars for sale on eBay. They looked perfect for our Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes and I only knew of them because someone posted a tip on the OCC Extranet. I immediately thought of purchasing 5,000 but decided to ask for a sample first. The samples came quickly and were as nice as I'd hoped they'd be. The seller gave me a good price on 4,800 of them.
Everything seemed like a done deal. Then I mentioned to the seller via e-mail that I'd probably kick myself for not buying more at that price but was having problems finding storage. To my surprise, he offered to keep them for me until I got storage established if I wanted to buy more.
What to do?
I hate this kind of decision. Do I buy more while the price is low or wait for God to provide something better in the future? Will I have to move these boxes of cars from storage spot to storage spot over the next two years or will I miss God's opportunity if I don't buy them now. Interestingly enough, the cost of them doesn't really bother me. I've seen God bless us financially in so many ways that I never mind investing in opportunities like this.
Over the next two days I asked for prayer and I asked my husband for advice. I asked the seller to give me the dimensions of the cartons the cars came in. And it started to become clear to me that I should buy twice as many as I'd originally planned.
So I'll soon be the temporary owner of 9,600 darling little cars. The 'Next Generation Pastor' at my church joked on Facebook that he'd invite 9,600 preschoolers over for a race. And I told him that I'm already visualizing those thousands of little boys. Every time God blesses me with a large quantity of an item for shoeboxes I picture that many children.
Now I'm seeing in my mind those 9,600 cars being pushed through the dirt in front of thatched huts or over the cracked cement of orphanage floors by hands with skin that is light or dark or any shade in between. And I'll bet they'll be making those instinctive 'vroom vroom' noises that boys of any age make when they see a car.
My mind is racing.