God’s tender and personal care for each of us is mind-boggling

Dd#1 called to share a story she’d just heard on the radio while driving home. It was about how God really is intimately aware of and caring about the tiniest details of our lives.

This guy was in Mexico delivering Christmas shoeboxes. This one girl kept getting a wrong box, wrong for her age or gender, so they kept moving her down the line until she was finally the ONLY child left and there was only ONE shoebox left.

When she opened it, she burst into tears. She was holding a photo of the child who had packed the box. “This is my best friend!” she sobbed. “I never thought I’d see her again after we moved to Mexico to take care of Grandma.”

“More than 100 million shoeboxes have been given to kids in over 130 countries since Operation Christmas Child began in 1993.”

Shell on beach


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5 responses to “God’s tender and personal care for each of us is mind-boggling

  1. Sigh! I’ve done a lot of pondering on prayer and Providence, the mundane and the miraculous (likel the “fortuitous coincidence” of that note in the shoebox). It’s not just abstract theologizin’, but the most important question of my current life crisis. So, when I read this post, I began a comment, only once again to end up with an overlong essay that I have cut, set aside to work on, to maybe someday to show up as a webwork. Lucky y’all, eh?

    It may not make as much sense out of the context of the rest of what I wrote, might not exactly seem much related to the post, but I thought I’d leave this story here just for entertainment purposes, or something:

    Mom tells a story from back when she was still driving. Took a wrong turn in the confusing maze of downtown streets, and found herself going the wrong way on a one-way street, in heavy traffic. She couldn’t go forward, couldn’t back up, everybody was honking and yelling at the crazy old lady driver. Finally, a cop comes up, and he starts yelling at her. Mom eventually managed to say to the officer, Okay, I messed up. Now what do we do? And at that point, the cop got his $#!+ together and began directing traffic so she could get out of there.

    I feel like that, wrong turns, trapped, no way out on my own, horns blaring. Except, the cop either doesn’t show up, or he doesn’t quit yelling. When all I want to know is, now what do we do? Hello, Lord?

    BTW, there were shoes in that shoebox as well, right?


  2. chrissythehyphenated

    I know exactly how you feel.

    Sooooo many years of my life were like the time I was driving alone in a strange city to an event about which I was nervous anyway. One of the intersections turned out to be more like the center of a spider web than anything I’d ever encountered … 5, 6 streets dumping into a wide open, no lights or lines or even a thingie in the middle to help you know when to go or how to get across without getting killed. I got part way through when it felt like cars were coming at me from all directions and I just froze. I did get through it in one piece, except for my nerves, which were SHOT.

    I remember so many times I really felt so ANGRY when I heard these little miracle stories. Why didn’t God like ME enough to even ANSWER me once in a while?! I eventually learned that for the true spiritual seeker, this is not uncommon. It’s called the Dark Night of the Soul. It sucks. I like better now that I’m on the other side and can look back and be grateful (or less resentful) of the lessons I learned.

    I’m from an athletic family, so the analogy of a coach helps me to understand why He could be so hard on some people. When a great coach finds a potentially world class talent, he isn’t going to be kind about training that person. He’ll push and push and push until the moment when that athlete’s spirit is almost ready to break and then he’ll give a hug or a treat or a day off.

    One saint wrote that after experiencing this cycle over and over, she had come to realize how much she grew during the hard times and to trust that He’d send a hug or a treat when she really needed it. I’m at a place now where I get that and I can really enjoy the little miracle stories. But it took decades. That’s why I chose that shell graphic for this post.


    • I hate those Dark Decades of the Soul. It’s never as simple as the St. John of the Cross anecdotes, right? Glad you’re on the other side now, but I hear you about the answers never being quite enough. I always want more, but ultimately, “I have done this; you can, too.” ends up being quite enough, especially with his arms around you.

      The one question I feel like I need an answer to, eventually, is why that bastard, Dorkus Luciferus, is so special that he still gets his way with us. Because he’s relentless, and the suffering he causes us all is so REAL. I know it has something to do with the nature of God’s Love and Justice being so serious that they must suffer such things. Still, I want a seat in the Colosseum when he gets his!

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