Welcome! I have one piece of news: Atlantic Community Church is hosting a Christmas Eve service at 7 p.m. Maybe you can attend.
Something happened to me last week that I hope encourages you and strengthens your faith in God’s provision.
Last spring, I set back money so I could buy Christmas presents. I’ve been careful not to touch that money all year, even when I really needed it.
I retrieved these precious bills and took them to the bank. I don’t go inside banks often; I typically use ATMs. They’re faster. So I took my pile of cash to the machine and deposited it, same as usual.
But when I inserted the money, an error screen popped up, and told me to enter the amount of the deposit. I panicked, and accidentally hit the 7, and then hit “cancel,” and my debit card popped out.
The deposit slip showed I’d deposited $.07. This was NOT the amount I’d deposited. My deposit was a small fortune to me. I immediately went inside and spoke to a teller.
When I explained what had happened, she asked for my debit card and looked at me as if I were a deer fly. I was a nuisance. Troublesome. And definitely not worth her time.
She exchanged a look with the teller next to her, who gazed back with a look that said, “I don’t care, and I can’t do anything for you even if I did.”
My heart raced. I had a terrible time taking deep breaths because of my face mask, and all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. I wasn’t able to give anyone but the children in my family Christmas presents last year. It broke my heart. This year I had enough saved to give small gifts to all my family members. Again, this money was a small fortune to me.
The teller called a supervisor, who told her she couldn’t do anything to help me. The other teller called their regional operations manager, and it went straight to voicemail. He emailed her. Then the teller looked at me as if I were a horsefly—I’d definitely become a pest by now—and told me they’d look into it.
“They’d look into it?!” That’s all? In as calm a tone as I could manage, I explained how much money this was in my world, and that it was my whole Christmas for my family.
She couldn’t possibly have cared less. I got the “Well, you know I’m not responsible for the bank’s policy” rote response.
I locked eyes with her. Then I asked if I could at least get my debit card back. The other teller handed it to me, and I got outta there. I barely made it to the car before I collapsed into body-racking sobs. I mean, I was leaning over the steering wheel, ugly crying. My whole Christmas. Gone!
I still hadn’t walked yet, and I knew the sun was going to set in an hour. I drove home, sobbed some more, then pulled on a coat and a reflective jacket and left.
My stomach started to burn, because anxiety had overwhelmed me. Totally. I kept sobbing as I walked. I didn’t care who saw me.
Then I remembered something I learned in an online marketing class I’m taking: If you can write a check for a problem, it’s not a problem.
I started visualizing myself standing behind another woman in a bank whose money had been devoured by an ATM. I imagined writing her a check in the amount of the deposit. I felt the joy of helping her in her moment of grief and worry. My stomach started to feel better.
Then I started imagining the bank’s regional operations manager calling me before I even got home from my walk, telling me the money was waiting in my account.
I started saying, “My stomach is well. I have no pain.”
By the time I was halfway through my walk my stomach quit burning. I’d stopped crying. And I quit worrying. I felt a wash of peace that it’d be okay. I texted Mom and asked her to pray for me. My kids were also praying for me.
When I was about a quarter mile from home, my phone rang. It was the bank’s manager. He apologized several times for the machine malfunction and gave me a phone number where I could file a dispute.
This was the first step toward getting my money back. I still had a couple hours to call the main branch before they closed.
After I got home, I called the main branch and filed a dispute. The representative assured me I’d get my money back “soon.” I felt much better by then. But I was still shaken, to say the least.
The weekend passed. Cyber Monday arrived. I’d put off shopping until then because the money I’d been counting on had disappeared into ATM land. I decided I had to go ahead and shop on a credit card so I wouldn’t miss my chance to get the good deals.
I hate shopping on a credit card. But I did it anyway. I had faith I’d have the money in my account soon and I could make an early credit card payment.
Two more days came and went. Then, Thursday morning I got a call from one of the tellers I’d dealt with the previous Friday. He apologized twice for how long it’d taken for me to get my money back.
He assured me it was in my account. I thanked him and wished him a Merry Christmas.
When I checked my account, it was two hundred dollars short. What the heck?! After all that, I still didn’t have my full amount deposited?
Then I took a closer look, and I realized I’d made a mistake. A mistake that could’ve been a disaster: I’d charged my online orders to my debit card, not my credit card. Oh. My. Goodness!
There’s no earthly reason it should’ve taken three days for a debit card transaction to appear on my account. And there’s no earthly reason it should’ve appeared AFTER my Christmas money finally cleared.
Nope. It was not earthly: it was heavenly. God made sure I had the money I needed in my account precisely when I needed it.
The bottom line? God once again demonstrated that He will provide for me. He cares about every detail of my life and will make sure I’m always able to pay for what I need.
Which brings me back to the saying, “If you can write a check for a problem, it’s not a problem.”
When my mom was in a car accident in August 2019 that by all rights should have sent her straight to heaven—this was a problem.
A year later, my mom now walks outside three or four days a week.
When my dad had a brain tumor in 2001 and lymphoma in 2010—these are problems. And yet Dad came over and cleaned out my gutters with my son and chopped up a pussy willow tree that split in half last month.
No check would’ve healed my parents and strengthened them so they could live happy, healthy, productive lives again.
Nope. Only God can do that. Only prayer can do that. And that’s what really matters. But the way God demonstrated his care over me, even regarding my ability to buy my loved ones Christmas presents this year, strengthened my faith. I hope it encourages you and strengthens yours, too. The same God who provides for me will provide for you, too.
Have a wonderful week! Blessings!