As a young girl in 1979, my family packed up and moved from a very small town in Hamilton, Ohio to a rural part of the state called Morrow. Our previous home was quite small but this house was three stories and was built before the civil war. With three children under the age of ten, no running water, and no electricity at first, my parents had their hands full.
Our nearest neighbors were over a mile away in any direction and our house was located on a busy highway called State Route 22. Until the water and electricity was working, we took baths in a creek behind the house. Money was often tight, and it seemed there were many struggles for us.
During one such time, when our pantry was almost bare, I listened as my mother spoke her fears aloud. For her, prayer was an ongoing conversation with the Father, not something that needed to be formal. She prayed, asking God to help my father find steady work, and for God to provide our home with food. My siblings were too small to understand much of this but I wasn’t. I also prayed and hoped God would help us soon. My mother assured me, “God always provides.”
Sometime the next day, there was an unexpected knock at our door. Since we were not expecting visitors, my mother wondered who it could be. An unfamiliar man stood before her. He explained that his refrigerated grocery truck had broken down on the highway, practically in front of our house. Wanting to call for assistance, she let him use our phone.
After reaching his company, he relayed that it would be several hours before anyone could come to fix the truck, and rather than risk the food going bad, we should take it.
“Call any friends and neighbors you know,” he explained, “and have them come fill up their freezers with food.”
My mother practically gasped out loud. Our prayers were being answered!
Several members of our local church and community came to fill their cars with food that day. Our family and many others were blessed. My mother was right.
God always provides.
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