The year was 1981 and I was about as poor as I ever want to be. I was going through a divorce at the time and was at a point where I was almost eligible for the maximum amount I could get to help pay my heating costs for the year. The gas company had been really gracious about extending credit but had reached the limit of what they felt they were able to extend. A storm was coming that weekend and I knew there wasn’t enough gas in our propane tank to see my family through. With seven children in the house between ages three and thirteen, I was anxious, afraid and didn’t know where else I could turn.
So, I had gone to the one place I knew to get help. It was a teary place. While I was there on my knees in my bedroom, I heard a sound that I was not expecting at all. A familiar metal clang of the tank being readied to pump gas. Someone had bent the rules. I never knew who made the decision to come and help us out. In that moment of compassion, God’s messenger of grace arrived. When the delivery man came to the door he said that they had just put in one hundred gallons -not the usual five hundred gallons our tank took. But it was enough. What I knew was that I had just received an answer to my prayer.
I cannot tell the story without choking up. The unexpected compassion continues to touch my heart. God’s mercies, are indeed, new every morning.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
God’s mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning.” Lamentations 3:22-23