A Christmas Miracle

The other day I went to the gym with a friend.

We were running on the treadmill, and I was telling her about Mount Poo-suvius.

She told me a story about her grandfather, and how he was very religious. How when he was faced with a difficult situation, tough times, no money, whatever, that he always had faith, and that he always said the same thing.

The Lord will provide.

We’ve been limping along in the clothing department, surviving on hand-me-downs from friends and relatives for the younger kids.

Numbers 5, 6, and 7 are fully outfitted with clothing sent to me from friends.

It’s been a lifesaver.

And other than having to buy Number 4 a winter coat, she’s all set too.

But I don’t have many friends or relatives with boys who are a year or two older than Number 3.

So Number 3 has been kind of hung out to dry.

He’s got the Goldilocks and the Three Bears selection of pants.

He literally has three pairs.

One pair of jeans that are too short.

One pair of sweatpants that my mom got him that are way too big, so he rolls the waistband over twice.

And one pair of sweats that I got at Costco.

Those fit just right.

I’ve been trying to make it to Christmas to buy him another pair.

The kids have already been told that Santa is cutting way back on toy production this year.

The fact that Santa’s septic system has failed is now going to force him to cut back even further.

So I was feeling a little stressed.

And while I’m not religious, and I don’t use the words the Lord will provide, I just keep telling myself,

Everything will work itself out.

Everything will work itself out.

Everything will work itself out.

Yesterday as I was getting into the car to go pick up Number 6 from school, the mailman pulled up to the driveway.

He got out of his truck with a huge box. I had no idea what it was or who it was from.

I was running late, so I just put it next to the garage. I’d look at it when I got home.

After I picked up Number 6, I got home and carried the box inside.

I looked at the return address.

I didn’t recognize the name right away.

After a few minutes, I realized who had sent it.

I used to babysit most weekends for this family who lived about a half mile away from me when I was in high school.

There were two girls and one boy.

I loved them, and I loved babysitting for them.

They had this really amazing house. We never had a dishwasher growing up. In fact, my parents still don’t, so I always thought the fact that they had a dishwasher was so awesome.

But they also had a game room.

With their own pinball machine. 

And a tennis court.

And a pool. That had a little waterfall in it.

And they had an actual train caboose, like from a real train, as their pool house.

I freaking loved that place.

“Working” there was way more fun than work.

So anyway, one of the girls, now a full grown woman and mom, had sent me the box.

I put it on the dining room table.

I got the scissors, opened it up, and,

well,

it went from an ordinary cardboard box to more like, um,

this:

I pulled out a pair of size 8, boys pants.

And then another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

There were about 10 pairs of pants in there.

In fact, there was almost an entire wardrobe for Number 3 in that box.

Plus some stuff for Number 4.

I just sat there and bawled.

Everything will work itself out.

The Lord will provide.

And if not the Lord,

a really awesome girl you used to babysit for.

I used to take care of her, but now she’s taking care of me.

What comes around goes around.

Everything will work itself out.

The Lord will provide.