receipts

God’s Faithfulness Plants Hope

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For several hours on New Year’s Day, my son and I shredded old receipts and files from 2004.Faith - hope - track record

Tax professionals report that we only need to keep 10 years of receipts, so to make room for the 2014-2015 files – we shredded the past.

As I looked through those files, I remembered the fun and the difficult times of that year. A receipt from Dillons for the cake I ordered for my son’s high school graduation party. Green frosting with silver letters, “Congratulations, Caleb!”

Gas receipts for the trip to Oklahoma to bury my dad. A medical bill for thousands of dollars that was somehow forgiven because someone at the hospital decided to pay it.

We lived on pennies and coupons during those days – a single mom with a son who was starting college and trying to find his path.

Friends often left groceries for us or garage sale treasures. We celebrated the end of every semester dumpster diving for items we could repurpose and sell or refurbish and use.

The miracle townhome where we lived and healed – provided by friends who gave us a generous discount on the rent.

Looking through the old receipts reminded me of how hard life had been yet how many times God came through with an emotional or financial miracle.

As he carried us through those years, he proved his faithfulness over and over. He cared for this particular “widow and orphan,” met every need and became my eternal Husband.

A few hours sifting through old files brought me once again to a place of gratitude as I realized the hope I hung on to 10 years ago is now a reality.

As Anne Lamott writes, “Faith is hope with a track record.”

God’s track record has left behind blessings and their impact on my heart. He gave me hope for the future and because he’s good – he builds more layers of hope for the days ahead, for the next time I open a box of receipts and shred the past.

All because of his grace-filled and generous heart.

©2014 RJ Thesman – author of the Reverend G books – http://amzn.to/1rXlCyh

Paper, Please

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As a writer, I know better. But it happened anyway.writing4502.jpg

As we prepared for our recent family vacation, I packed all my paper goods – legal pads, journals, notepads in a special bag. Then helped my sister pack up her Subaru Forrester and carefully secured my “writing” bag in her trunk. Other luggage piled on top, including my brother’s tackle box and fishing pole.

About two hours into the trip, I decided to write some notes about the scenery – something I might blog about later or use in research. But as I searched through my purse, I realized none of my usual notepads were inside the car. They were all packed in the back of the Subaru and there was no way we were going to unpack everything just so I could write down a few notes.

My creative juices seemed to be on overdrive and along with them, the fear that I might forget the words and phrases that peppered my mind. I noticed the Oklahoma red dirt, stained as legend tells it by the blood and tears of the Cherokees who were forced to travel from Mississippi to Indian Territory. Their broken hearts and wounded spirits forever colored the soil of the new land where they were enslaved on reservations.

As we drove into the Oklahoma panhandle, I saw corn growing tall (“as high as an elephant’s eye”), combed straight by the row crop planter that sows the corn seed. Each row was impressive as the corn plants reached their blades up to heaven for nourishing sunshine.

The horizon in the panhandle seemed to blend right into the soil so that I could not discern where it divided until we drove farther down the road. The turquoise sky shook hands with the red soil, accessorized by the green corn and the occasional brown coyote. A colorful land indeed.

All these sights I wanted to record while they were fresh, along with any ideas that surfaced about the novel I am currently writing. But alas – no notebook in my purse. What to do? How to record my thoughts before they disappeared as readily as the flatland when we approached the foothills of New Mexico?

We stopped for a snack at a Love’s store. With words swirling in my subconscious, I quickly ran to the ladies room, finished my business, then grabbed extra toilet paper which I folded into a pallet of paper. Then I grabbed extra napkins by the checkout and hurried to the car. A receipt from a previous gas purchase also fell out of my purse when I searched for a pen. Thank goodness I had packed my pens in my purse.

Armed with TP, napkins and the back of a receipt – I quickly scribbled phrases and sentences onto my makeshift notepads, then sighed with contentment that I had finally captured my thoughts before they disappeared into word netherland.

One week later, when we returned home, I gathered all my little notes together to file where I could best use them. Then I vowed to never be caught without paper again.

©2014 RJ Thesman – “Intermission for Reverend G” – http://amzn.to/1l4oGoo