(Here's a piece I wrote about one way God provided for our 2,240 boxes in 2005)
Day For A
Miracle--2005
It’s a day meant for a
miracle. January 13, 2005 proves
to be a lucky day for us in Erie, PA--a balmy reprieve from our usual winter
weather with a record high temperature of 70 degrees.
I
feel blessedly light wearing only shorts and a t-shirt during my early evening
run, and when the run ends I soak in a hot bath, and then curl up on the couch
for a quiet night at home.
Snuggling into my comfortable robe, I open the newspaper and flip
through the pages. In the bottom
corner of one page, an advertisement for the Millcreek Mall’s January Sidewalk
Sales catches my eye. The sale
began today, and I wonder if they have any bargains. It seems doubtful, since I rarely find anything in the mall
stores inexpensive enough to buy in quantities for the shoeboxes. Besides, I’m all ready for bed, and it
seems silly to get dressed to make the trip.
I
finish scanning the rest of the newspaper, but I can’t stop thinking about the
sales at the mall. Finally, I haul
myself off the couch and get dressed, knowing I’ll never be satisfied until I’m
positive I’m not missing any great deals.
By
the time I reach the mall it’s just a half hour before closing time. Only a few stores have tables of sale items
displayed in front of them, and after glancing at a few of those, I’m
disappointed. Still, I decide to
venture farther down the main concourse to Claire’s—a store specializing in
jewelry and accessories for children and teen girls. I walk into the small store and head for the back where I
see a red sale sign on a table that’s overflowing with hats, slippers, and even
boots.
“Welcome
to Claire’s,” the cheerful salesperson greets me. Then she continues, “Everything on that table’s on
sale. You can buy any ten items
for $5.00.”
My
eyes scan the cute suede boots with an original price of $19.50. “Even these boots and slippers?” I ask.
“Yep. As long as you buy ten items, it’s
just $5.00.”
My
excitement is mounting. “Can I buy
as many as I want?”
“Sure.”
“Well,”
I say, launching into my stock explanation, “our church packs shoeboxes filled
with gifts for kids in other countries.
I pray all the time to find stuff like this. I’ll probably just take it ALL.”
“Great. My name is Courtney. So just let me know if I can help you,”
she says as she moves to straighten the jewelry on a nearby rack. I start to grab sets of matching
hats and gloves, fluffy slippers, and the half dozen pair of boots and stack
them into piles.
“I
want all of these,” I say.
Then
Courtney strolls over. “Here, let
me help you. You can just put them
into piles of all one thing. Like
stack all the slippers together, then all the hats together, and all the boots
together, and then we can just count them. Do you want any more boots? I think there’s more in the back.”
“Absolutely. I’ll take whatever you want to sell
me.”
“That’s
great, because we really need to make some space here. I’ll just go in back and bring out more
boots.” A few minutes later she
returns, hauling several large cartons filled with pink, blue, or tan suede
boots in all sizes from little girls’ to ladies. “Just count these,” she instructs, “and I’ll go look for
more stuff.” Before I finish
counting the boots, Courtney comes back with her arms loaded full of more
slippers, hat and glove sets, and even cute little ponchos.
“Here
we go,” she says, dropping her load on the floor. “Now I’ll help you put these in piles.” We start to sort them out, working in
silence for a moment until Courtney muses, “It’s really nice of your church to
do this.”
“Well,
it’s actually a lot of fun—especially seeing the way God provides these things
for us. Like me being here tonight
to get these great deals.”
“My
friend says I should go to church,” Courtney blurts out. “She thinks I need some peace.”
“Well,
we all need peace.”
“I’ve
made a lot of bad decisions in my life,” she confesses. “I got divorced from my first husband
and I’m getting divorced from my second.
I always wanted kids, but I don’t think I’ll ever have any.”
“But
you’re still young, Courtney.”
“Not
really. I’m thirty-four. Besides I wouldn’t want to inflict my
life on any kids.” Another customer is ready to make a purchase, and Courtney
excuses herself. I keep
sorting. A few minutes later,
Courtney comes back and hands me a small notebook. “Here. Just
count up how many there are of each item and put the stock number beside it. It’s the number right here,” she says,
pointing to a tag. “I’ll go look
for more stuff.”
Courtney
comes back with still more boots and drops them on the floor. Then she says, “What about
sunglasses?”
“Oh
the kids love them,” I enthuse.
She
starts pulling sunglasses off a rack.
“Well, I’ll just give you all these and charge you for thirty pair. Just write it down as thirty.”
“Are
you sure? There’re a lot of them
there.”
“I’m
sure. We have more than a thousand
pair of clearance ones we have to get rid of.” Courtney’s name tag indicates she’s an assistant manager. I hope she knows what she’s doing. She piles the sunglasses into a bag.
“Where
do you live, Courtney?”
“Down
by 5th and Myrtle.”
“Well,
it might be a ways for you to travel, but I’d love to have you come to church
with us if you want,” I tell her.
“We’re a block up from Buffalo Rd. and Station Rd. in Wesleyville.”
“Oh,
I know where that is. I used to
live in Lawrence Park,” she says.
“Really? Did you go to high school at Iroquois?”
“No. I’m from Colorado. I’m starting to think I should move
back home. My life is such a
mess.”
Another
customer beckons, and Courtney goes to her register. I glance at my watch and realize the store will be closing
in ten minutes. I have all the
items counted and tallied. Most of
them have price tags with retail prices of $14.00 or $16.00, and the 43 pair of
suede boots each retailed for almost $20.00. There must be several thousand dollars worth of merchandise
here. I take the notebook up to
Courtney at the cash register and watch as she moves her fingers over the keys,
entering all the numbers. “Okay,”
she says at last, “with the tax, that’s $113.42.”
“That’s
ALL,” I marvel, handing her my credit card.
“Yeah. You got a lot of nice stuff, but we
needed to clean it all out anyway.”
“Well,
we sure appreciate it. This is
such a blessing. A real answer to
prayer.”
“Hey,”
Courtney says, as we look at the mounds of shopping bags, “if you want, I can
help you get this to your car after I close the store.” Several last-minute customers walk in,
and she leaves to help them.
I
haul four bags in my arms and struggle to the car. I make two more quick trips, while the customers are still
browsing, then come back to the store once more. It looks like I’ll have to make two more trips, until a male
customer sees me struggling and offers to help me. “She just bought all this for her church,” Courtney tells
him.
“Well,
I’m bored,” he replies, “so I might as well help you.”
“That’d
be so great.” He stacks two large
boxes full of boots, hefts them into his arms, and starts off behind me. “What’s your name?” I ask him as we walk out together.
“Dave. What’s all this stuff for, anyway?”
“Well,
our church packs shoeboxes full of gifts to send to kids in other
countries. I pray all the time to
find bargains like this, and tonight God really answered prayer. I got all this stuff for fifty cents
each.”
“No
way. Even these boots?”
“Yeah. All of it. This will make a lot of kids really, really happy.” When we get to the car, I struggle to
find the key in my pocket and open the trunk.
“Man,
your car is FULL!” Dave sounds amazed.
“Well,
God is really good at answering prayer,” I chuckle. We wedge the boxes and bags into the trunk and back seat,
and I turn to walk back into the mall with Dave. “I want to thank Courtney again,” I explain to him.
As
we approach the store, Dave’s wife and daughter are walking out to meet
him. “Hey, you’ve got a great
guy,” I say with a smile. They nod
and wave.
I
go back into Claire’s and see Courtney cleaning up. I wish we had more time to talk. “Courtney, I just wanted to come back to thank you
again. You’ve been such a blessing
tonight and a real answer to prayer.”
She smiles.
“Courtney,”
I continue, “I don’t think it was a coincidence that we met tonight. I just want you to know that God loves
you and He has a great plan for your life. You can start your life again right now. I’m going to be praying for you, and
I’ll have some of my friends praying for you.” She opens her arms, and we move to embrace.
“Thanks,”
she whispers into my ear. After another
squeeze, I turn to leave, then pray for Courtney all the way to the car and on
my drive home. I am still praying
for her as I count and sort all the things I purchased—257 beautiful clothing
items.
The
next day I write a letter to Courtney telling her all the things I wish I’d had
time to say the night before. I
write about how much God loves her, how she can ask Jesus to forgive her and
give her a new life, and how she can contact me so that maybe we can get
together again. I seal the letter
in a large envelope along with a Bible and some other literature, and then I
drive up to the mall and leave it with another employee at Claire’s. Courtney isn’t there today.
I
keep praying for Courtney. I don’t
know if I’ll ever see her again, but I sense that God will somehow use our
meeting to bless her. After all,
it was a day meant for a miracle.
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