Blog Archives

What My College Roommate Told Me To Do

5/24/2016

Rachel's Raft Excerpt

Fall 2010

“We don’t have money for our mortgage tomorrow,” I said with tears streaming down my face. “I mean, Dana, Michael’s job isn’t paying us, this is the sixth week we have gone without a paycheck.”

Dana (or Roomie as we called one another in college) was a sounding board for me and a friend who would listen and pray for me over the phone.

“Rachel, you know, let me share this with you. When Richard and I were going through all that legal mess, I went to see my priest and he told me to do this. I want you to do it, too. He told me to take a piece of paper and a pencil then draw a bird. Put it on your mirror, Roomie. And remember, if God is taking care of the birds, how much more will He take care of you?”

So, I did just that.

After we moved to Mountain View, four years later, the pastor's wife and I were talking about the song, His Eye is on the Sparrow. She'd asked me if I would like to request a song for the Sunday Service, and that was the song I wanted to hear.

During the worship time, later that week, she said, “I was talking to a friend this week about how God takes care of us. And the Bible tells us if He takes care of the birds of the air, how much more will He take care of us?”

And she sang it. That song that I had carved in my heart and on my piece of paper. The song that hung on my mirror as a hand drawn picture of a sparrow. And now hung in my memory of the past ten years and how God was always watching. Always aware.

And sometimes I wanted to yell at God, “Take your eye off the sparrow and look at me!”

But, now, as her words filled the sanctuary, I knew He had never taken His eye off of me. I looked down at the church bulletin to calm the tears welling up in my eyes. Thankful that God, who watches the sparrows, had indeed watched me, too.

Actual drawing from my journal of the sparrow. I also placed one on my mirror to look at every day. "For thus says the high and lofty one whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with those who are contrite and humble in spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite." Isaiah 57:15

2 Comments

How God Provided Food for Us

5/16/2016

2 Comments

Rachel's Raft Excerpt:

A Summer Morning in June 2010

The next day was Bible study, and I was in desperate need of it, so I got the kids dressed and drove to our church. My eyes a little puffy from the previous night, I walked in late and sank down in the seat next to my friend.
            “You okay?” she asked.
            “Not really, Michael isn’t getting paid, once again.”
            A few eyes turned to look at me.
            I looked at her prayer request list and saw “The Kelleys” already on it. Ruth, who was sitting behind me reached up to give me a hug.
            “Oh well, at least they already know.”
            Then my teacher, Ally asked,
            “Rachel, how’re ya doing this morning?”
            “Oh, not that great. Michael isn’t getting paid again.”
            I could not stop the tears that were already coming--it was all I could say--I couldn’t get one more word out.
            “We’re gonna pray for you guys this morning,” she said.
            They did, and she continued on with the lesson, while I continued to fight the tears. I couldn’t concentrate; my mind went from wondering what we were going to do, to what other jobs Michael could apply for, to the balance in our account and growing debt. And questioning God as to why He would not fix it.
            When the class was over, I reached for my purse, put my Bible inside of it, and walked toward the door. As I did, two ladies, Rozena and Jeanette, stopped me.
            “Rachel, do you think it’d be okay if we stopped by for a little while?”
            My gut dropped.
            Sometimes, I didn’t know if people were going to help or if they were going to give advice. Beforehand, I thought financial issues could be solved simply by getting another job or asking for a raise. But what I was discovering was that it was not that simple. If God was not moving a certain direction, there was no changing Him.
            “Uh, sure, that’s fine.”
            “Okay, we’ll be by in a few minutes.”
            I picked the kids up from the nursery and drove home. A few minutes later they arrived, so I invited them in, and we sat down in the living room.
            “Kids, y’all go play outside for a few minutes,” I said.
            “So, tell us how you are doing.”
            “Well, not that great. I feel like we stepped out years ago and have gone from one crisis to the next. I just don’t understand what God is doing. Or why He won’t help Michael provide for his family.”
            “What’s going on with his paychecks?” they asked.
            “The school’s funding something or other. No one’s getting paid regularly. . .from the President, down. And the shows have almost dried up all together. I feel like we are failing.”
            Then every so sweetly and gently Rozena said,
            “Try not to think of this as a trial, Rachel, think of this as a test. You are not on trial in front of God, He’s giving you a test.”
            Contrary to what I was starting to believe, I was not sitting in the courtroom with an angry judge, wondering what crime I had committed and if I would be forgiven. I was sitting in a classroom, with a loving teacher, being asked to take a test, to show that I was learning from a faithful Instructor. And at times, I felt I was failing miserably. Other times, I felt closer to God than I had in years. He was bringing me to my knees and sometimes to my face, in desperation.
            And with that, Jeanette, who was sitting on my right, pulled out a piece of paper, and said,
"Okay. Tell us everything you need at the grocery store."
And she meant everything--even down to the spices in the cupboard. She made a very long list of food and toiletries then said,
“Alright, well, we’re gonna go to Wal-Mart, why don’t y’all come with us?”
“Okay, sure.”
"Good, also. . .there’s a consignment sale goin’ on right now. We’re gonna go over there and get whatever y’all need. Shoes, pants, dresses, even if Michael needs things, we will get ‘em. Why don’t we go there first, then the grocery store?"
“Oh you guys, you don’t even know how much this means to me. Really, you have no idea,” I said, my voice cracking, “Thank you. . .words can’t even describe.”
I gathered up the kids and grabbed their coats.
“Why don’t you drive us to the consignment sale, and then bring us all back to your house for us to get our car?” Jeanette said.
“Okay, great,” I said.
            That should have clued me in on their next move. Before we turned into the church where the consignment sale was being held, Rozena said,
            “Turn in here.” Pointing to the gas station.
            “We’re gonna fill up your car.”
            If Christ appeared to me that day, it was in the form of two sisters from my Bible study. And when they bought our family of five clothes, food and gasoline, they became a tangible force of grace and provision in my life. For with these actions, my two sisters followed this verse perfectly:
            "What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." James 2:14-17

2 Comments

Paychecks Delayed

5/9/2016

6 Comments

     It's been almost two years since I've blogged, but I am going to get you all caught up and back in the story. It has been on my heart to continue to share my story as I am nearing the completion of my book, Rachel's Raft, and pursuing publication. In the meantime, I will share excerpts from the manuscript as the Lord leads. I hope this resonates with someone today.

        Michael worked for Martin Methodist College for three years when he began to feel God calling him out of higher education and into ministry. After much prayer, we agreed that it was, in fact, what God was leading us to do, so he resigned his position after booking many shows for the year. We had a good year then came the financial collapse, so he started work at a different school in Tennessee. Things were pretty smooth for the first year, but then it all started to change.

Rachel's Raft excerpt:

          One evening, I was in the kitchen, warming up his dinner when I saw him pull into the driveway. He walked in, looking rather tired, walked over to me, gave me a hug, then turned and walked out of the room. When he came back in, he said,
            “It’s kinda crazy up there right now,” as he rubbed his hand through his hair.
            “Oh really, like what?”
            “Well, their funding is falling short.”
            “So, what does that mean?” I asked as I filled up a glass of water and turned to walk toward the dining room.
            “Well, they can’t pay me tomorrow.”
            “Can’t pay you? What do you mean they can’t pay you?”
            “The President said they’ll pay me next week. It’s the strangest thing. They’re falling short on their funds, so they’re paying the employees next Friday.”
            “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
            “No, it’s doesn’t, but it’s probably gonna be okay by next week.”
            He went on to explain to me about the funds the school was receiving for the foreign students and how they’d be processed the following week, freeing up the paychecks for the staff. I understood the explanation, but I still had uneasiness in my spirit.
            The next week, Michael came home from work.
            “They didn’t pay me today.”
            “What do you mean they didn’t pay you?”
            “Yep. That’s right. They’re still not able to pay us. They said it’ll be Monday.”
            “Monday? That’s four days from now.”
            “I know! Trust me, I’m mad about it, too. But they said I’ll have it in my hands on Monday.”
            “What’s goin’ on up there? You think it’ll get worked out?”
            “I don’t know. I hope so,” he said as he sat down on the couch. His eyes staring off in the distance. “I hope so.”
            The next morning, I woke up early, feeling insecure—like I couldn’t trust if the school was going to pay us or not. We’d always had a sure foundation of at least a pay check, but this was just weird. We had talked about Michael applying elsewhere, so we started sending out resumes. Early one morning, I checked my e-mail account as well as Michael’s.
            No new mail.
            I was hoping that one of the resumes would open a door to financial freedom but, nothing. Just silence. And junk mail. I noticed his calendar that was sitting on the floor next to his laptop. I opened it to January--no shows, none for February yet, either.
            It was so cold outside. The wind was blowing the single, yellow light that hung at the intersection of Sam Davis and College Street. Back and forth it blew in the wind. I turned to look out the window by the couch where I was sitting. Placing my Bible in my lap, I noticed a tear in the couch.
            I sat in silence.
            An unfamiliar feeling--doubt looming in my mind. What was going on?
            “God, I feel like I’m at the bottom here.”
            I closed my eyes. I expected to hear something new and freeing. Something that would send my worries out the door and into the chill where they belonged. I sat. I expected God to answer me in a way I could touch and feel--preferably with cold hard cash in the equation. An e-mail. An interview. I believed we would wake up and have all the answer’s regarding our income flow. And as I sat, I heard something I never expected. Something that jarred my soul.
            “I’m at the bottom. And if you want to be with Me, this is where we are going to hang out.”
            It was as clear as the mist that had collected on the window screen.
            An answer I never anticipated.
            It was not what I was looking for. Not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to be rescued that day. I didn’t know what He meant--going to the bottom. I didn’t know I would claw and scrape the muddy walls all the way down, not free fall. But I knew my answer, in the terms I was anticipating, was not coming anytime soon.
            And with that thought in mind, I braced for the descent.

6 Comments

What My College Roommate Told Me To Do

How God Provided Food for Us

Paychecks Delayed

Archives

Categories