Handfuls Of Mercydrops

Sometimes it's so easy to forget God's goodness. When times are tough and the future is uncertain, fear and doubt can loom large--like a hulking shadow or circling buzzards. We fight against the tide of tangible things--unemployment, unpaid bills, broken relationships, health issues, elusive goals. But the intangible can be even more frightening. Loneliness, grief, feelings of inferiority, and disappointment attack the most vulnerable places in our hearts, especially if once-faithful sources of strength and encouragement evaporate like morning mist. We cry out like the psalmist, "How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?" (Psalm 13:1)

A few months ago, my husband was laid off. Given today's economy and the unemployment numbers, it wasn't exactly unexpected. Like thousands of others, the jobless status walked into our lives. We just threw ourselves at the foot of the Throne of God and trusted Him to carry us through a difficult time. What we didn't expect, however, was a new job in less than a month. God gave us a miracle, and we were staggered by His goodness, handfuls of mercydrops raining down upon us, each droplet a kiss from God saying, "I know your need. I've not forgotten you."

About three weeks ago, my car started making a very expensive-sounding noise. The ominous clunking sound grated on my nerves every time I turned the key, and all I could think was--this engine is going to blow, it's going to throw a rod. If that was the case, we were faced with a decision, and we only had three choices: have the engine rebuilt ($$$), have a new engine installed ($$$$) or buy a new car ($$$$$$).

I drive a 1997 Toyota Rav4. It has 159,886 miles on it. Was it financially prudent to invest so much money either rebuilding or replacing the engine, especially since the cost of the repairs would most assuredly exceed the resale value of the car? But there is one more thing I didn't mention about this car. It's not really MY car. It was my son's car. When he died, I started driving it. So it's really Jonathan's car. I'm just taking care of it for him. I affectionately named the car "Jarhead" since Jonathan was a Marine. How could I even consider trading his car in and getting something else to drive? Every time I slide in behind the wheel, I can almost catch a whiff of Jonathan's aftershave.

So it wasn't with just a little apprehension I took the car to our favorite mechanic, "Jarhead's doctor", Mr. Ken. I described the noise and left the car in Mr. Ken's capable hands. One the way home, I talked with God. "God?" I said. "Jonathan's car has a problem. I'm not really sure what it is, but You know what I'm afraid it is. You also know how special that car is to me. If it turns out to be the worst case scenario, please help us to find the means to fix it so we can keep Jonathan's car." I needed a mercydrop. No, I needed a whole handful of mercydrops.

Mr. Ken kept the car for two days. When he called me yesterday, he told me he was positive it wasn't a rod, it wasn't anything internal in the engine. In fact, he was fairly certain it was just a spring on the starting motor. Mercydrops began showering down. I raised my face toward heaven and let the droplets splash over me. How good God is to give us exceedingly, abundantly beyond what we ask!

Jarhead is sitting out in the garage with a clean bill of health, a tangible witness of God's goodness and mercy. In the times of drought, when tears fall unbidden, loneliness is my companion, and disappointment shadows my steps, I have only to lift up my head toward heaven. As the prophet Elijah declared in 1st Kings 18:41-- "...there is the sound of abundance of rain." Handfuls of mercydrops, each droplet a kiss from God, saying, "I'm here. I know your need. You are not alone. I'll not forget you or forsake you. It is my delight to bless you."

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

Connie