The winter musical was fast approaching, I had volunteered to be a part of the stage crew. One of my responsibilities was to paint the faces on the backdrop. I had planned to take the Saturday in early February to finish my commitment. Being a newlywed usually meant that Saturday’s were dedicated to time with Brad and ministry. We had already discovered that just because we were married didn’t mean that college was any easier or that we had more time together. Life was hectic.
Normally on Friday night we would load up the car and head 2 ½ hours away to Marshall, Missouri, where we were children/youth Pastors for the weekend. Because of my commitment to the musical, I stayed back while Brad went to Marshall alone.
Before Brad left that Friday evening I took our only vehicle, the Oldsmobile Cutlass, to Walmart. We were on a fixed income of pennies. At the time we were paying for tuition by semester without taking loans. That day as I drove to Walmart for weekend provisions I only had one dollar to spend. In those days I didn’t have to go on a diet, our budget did it for me. As I pulled on to Grande Ave. I saw him standing on the side of the road with a tattered cardboard sign. Instantly the Lord spoke to my heart, “Give your dollar to that man.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat of both fear and sacrifice. Turning into the Walmart parking lot, I decided to buy him a $.99 cheeseburger and water. With the fast-food bag in my hand I crossed the highway to where the man stood. Snowflakes began to fall as the brisk air hit my stocking covered legs and ruffled my knee length dress melting on the red wool coat I had worn to classes that day.
Handing him the sack I explained the message God had spoken to me. With gray weary eyes, he listened. “God cares about you,” I said. In that moment as I gave him the little gift I also shared my hope. A smile began to immerge on the depressed man’s unshaven face. “Thank you,” he said. Feeling moved to tears I quickly left him to cross the highway and return to the “black beauty” Brad called his hot rod.
As I approached the car started to think of the fact that I hadn’t bought any food for the weekend, and the cupboards were bare. But I also faith that God would somehow change my nothing into something. Arriving at home I gave Brad a quick hug. He said goodbye as he quickly left to get on the road for the lengthy trip in the snow. In Springfield, it is relatively warm in the winter, and snow doesn’t last, but on that Friday evening, the snow continued to fall.
A friend invited me to go to a movie, her treat, so I happily consented. This would be the first weekend without Brad. I couldn’t imagine sleeping in our apartment alone. After the movie, the snow had piled to more than six inches deep. Saying goodbye I ran into my apartment building. As I unlocked the door of my apartment I heard the phone ring. On the desk in between the small living room couch and dining room table the forest green phone rang. As I picked up the receiver I heard Brad’s welcoming voice. He had made it safely to the church.
Smiling, I suddenly saw something move from under the couch to the dining room microwave stand, a mouse. Instantly jumping on a chair I stood screaming to Brad who helplessly listened from the other end of the line. The little gray mouse seemed to be frightened by my erratic screaming and kept darting back and forth to escape the shrill sound.
Getting a burst of courage I told Brad goodbye and darted down the hall past the microwave stand to my bedroom. Putting a pillow under the door so no foul creature could get me I prayed, Dear Lord kill the mouse or get it out of my apartment, Amen.” Sorry to say I am not a critter activist and I hoped selfishly that God wasn’t either.
Somehow I fell asleep and woke up early the next morning to work on the set. Looking out the window and cautiously looking for the mouse I discovered more than a foot of snow piled on the ground. This would mean a mile walk in a foot of snow to the school that morning. Because of the mouse sighting, I was more than ready to get started on my adventure. Now feeling hungry, as I had fasted the evening before I looked cautiously in the kitchen for something to eat before the trip, but there was only an empty box of oatmeal and a jar of pickles in the fridge. Looking around the house I did manage to gather $.90. My plan after consuming the 2 dill pickles left in the jar, was to buy a snicker bar at the school from the vending machine. I loved snicker bars but I rarely splurged to buy one.
Layering my clothes as best I could I set out to walk to the school. The sun was bright on the white sparkling snow. The street I lived on was a straight shot to the school, but the sidewalks were not clear and the traffic was thick, so I walked where the sidewalk usually was now knee high in the snow. Thankful I was not cooped up with the mouse I walked on with a positive attitude. Finally, I made it to the school. My clothes smelled wet and wooly.
Entering the Art building I shook off the snow and started my work. I was thankful that it was warm in the building. My clothes were damp from the high snow drifts but instantly started to dry in the heated air. After a few hours of painting, I was ready for my long awaited snicker bar. Walking up the flight of stairs to the common area I made my way to the candy machine. Putting in my three-quarters I pushed D3 expecting the snicker to drop to the retrieving door…but nothing happened. I pushed the coin retrieval button…but nothing happened. Looking at the dime, nickel and five pennies left in my hand I felt forsaken.
Despite the mouse, I had felt positive that God would take care of my needs, after all, I gave my last dollar to the homeless guy. But as the clock in the courtyard began to strike twelve noon, I stood by the thieving candy machine feeling cheated. Tears threatened to surface as a group of students sat down on the couches near where I stood. Taking a deep breath I decided to take a walk outside, to clear my head.
Tomorrow Brad would be back with the little bit of cash he received from the Pastor for ministry on the weekends. It would be ok. If Jesus could fast 40 days and nights, I could live on 2 dill pickles for a day. Trying to be positive, but not convincing myself, I walk dejectedly to the glass front doors. As I opened the doors to the brisk winter breeze I spotted my friend Miriam.
“Dianne,” she called out, “Shaun and I just went to Applebees and we thought you might like a salad.” She held up a black take-home sack with the Applebees logo on the side. Instantly I heard angels singing. God had provided for me when I had nothing.
Sitting down in the dining commons she shared the events of the day as I slowly savored the salad. The breadstick on the side was still warm and fluffy. The portion of chicken was generous and the ranch dressing over crisp lettuce almost brought tears of praise to my eyes. I could feel my concaved stomach begin to fill out again. God had heard my cry.
In gratitude, I promised the Lord and myself that day that I would never forget the blessing of giving and receiving. As I sat in the dining commons cheerfully listening to my gracious friend’s conversation my drama professor walked up to us.
“Dianne, she said, are you here working on the set today?”
"Yes," I told her.
With a proud smile, she held out her hand. “Well then, here is a punch card for dinner,"
This meant that I would be able to dine in the cafeteria that evening without having to pay.
Little did I know as I crossed the highway the previous afternoon with a little cheeseburger in tow, that as I gave my little God would bless in return in much deeper and richer ways than I ever could have imagined. I learned that what appeared to be nothing much by the world’s standards: a cheeseburger, means a lot to the God who sees the motivation of the heart. My nothing became the perfect soil for this unexpected gift.
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