Diane Williams - Angels in Action - Stories to Inspire

My silence had infuriated him. He leaped out of his chair and growled at me with a frustrated tone, “Lady, what do you think this is? I’ve been bending over backwards, but enough is enough! No more offers. You know what? When you said you didn’t have a job and there were some blemishes on your credit, I thought, ‘Well, at least she’s honest.’ So I was willing to negotiate to do you a favor. But now…”

There was nothing I could say to him. Everything he said was true. I could completely understand why he was so angry. But it wasn’t up to me to change his mind. I had to be still.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were broke?” Matthew asked. “You sit there so complacent, not saying a word. Do you even understand what I’m saying?”

I simply looked at him in silence. He paced back and forth, putting his hands in his pockets and then taking them out. He looked at me and then looked away. He did this several times and each time he did, I saw the fire in his face fading little by little.

Finally, he took a deep breath. He pulled up a chair in front of me, sat down, and looked directly into my eyes. He said calmly, almost as if he were resigned to something, “Years ago when my wife and I were dirt poor, someone took a blind chance on us. That made all the difference in our lives—it was our start. I guess it’s time for me to pass the blessing on.” He reached forward and handed me the keys. “The place is yours.”

That day I learned that trusting God can take on different faces; sometimes silence is all that is required. All I had to do was close my mouth and watch God at work—to be still and know that He is God.

Reflection: Go within and LISTEN …therein lies your power. Allow God’s advice to come to you—be at peace and He will tell you what to do next.

It’s Christmas…unlike any Christmas I have ever known. No ice, no snow, no galoshes, no ski suits. Jasmine, Tiffany, and I are in our shorts and T-shirts. The streets are filled with people with bright faces and free spirits. I’m on the West Coast, three thousand miles away from all of my relatives, except for my two lovely daughters. No grandma, no aunts, no uncles—no husband.

As I decorate the fichus tree in clear lights and spread the cards along the wall to form the letter C, my mind is occupied by what is apparently an impossible task—somehow find enough money to purchase two brand-new bicycles. Perhaps, I think to myself, next month I can pay only half of the rent. But a second thought enters my mind and I realize how ridiculous the previous notion is.

So, I do the only thing I can do. I kneel near the fichus tree, visualizing two brand-new bicycles. I imagine I can hear my girls squealing with delight as they see their wondrous Christmas presents. I see them riding their bicycles around the living room, laughing with pure pleasure. I’m so happy I don’t bother to reprimand them for riding their bikes in the house. I can hear their young voices filled with excitement as they beg to go outside and ride their bikes up and down the sunny streets. Their excitement makes them forget breakfast. I can see them racing through the door in their pajamas. I see myself assisting Tiffany down two flights of stairs with the bike, and Jasmine in front yelling, “Come on, come on, come on! I’ll race you!”

It’s a wonderful thing to visualize and I take almost as much pleasure in it as if it were actually happening. But then, inevitably, reality rears its ugly head. The Christmas account is empty. The move from New York to California wiped out my savings account. I could just as easily buy each of my daughters a new house, as a new bicycle. This is going to be the worst Christmas ever.

As soon as the negative thoughts enter my head, I do everything possible to banish them. I haven’t disappointed my girls yet and I’m not going to start now. There’s only one more option, so I drop to my knees again and begin to pray, “Father, you said in your word, Matthew 7:7, ‘Ask and it will be given to you.’ I’m asking. Please, Lord.”

Silence.

I hear nothing.

I’m not satisfied and I begin to nag, “What should I do, God? Will you help me if I only pay half of the rent?”

I don’t get a response.

With a sigh, I stand up and get back to the tasks at hand. I have decorating to finish and a holiday menu to put together.

A week passes. Though I pray every day, God doesn’t seem to reply. Oh well, I think, he has more important things to think about than my desire to give Christmas gifts to my daughters. We’ll just have to have a Christmas without gifts this year. The girls will understand.

It’s six o’clock in the morning and I’m getting ready to go to work when the phone rings. Who in the world could be calling at such an hour?

“Mrs. Williams?” a voice says. “It’s Matthew.”

Oh no! My landlord. I shiver a bit. It’s as if he’s reading my mind. I’m still contemplating paying him only part of January’s rent and getting the bikes. I struggle with this because I was raised with the conviction that, no matter what else you have to do without, you always pay your rent. If you don’t have food you still pay the rent. As I’m contemplating all this, I hear my grandfather’s words from when I was a child: “It’s easier for someone to give you a sandwich, than to give you a roof over your head.” Nothing is more important than keeping a roof over your head, and I know to neglect paying rent to buy some bikes is just plain foolishness.

“Good morning, Mr. Matthew,” I say, somewhat timidly.

“Listen,” he says. I press the phone closer to my ear and hear paper shredding. “That is the sound of your December rent check.”

My mouth drops open.

Matthew says, “My wife and I decided we didn’t need the money and wanted to give your family a gift. We couldn’t decide on what you might like, so we decided to tear up the check. The rent’s on us this month. Merry Christmas!”

Reflection: Go within and VISUALIZE …therein lies your power. Ask and expect the blessing to be there. Everything isn’t always as it seems. Sometimes you have to believe that the unseen will be seen.

When a seasoned writer agrees to help a novice writer, a mentoring relationship is born and the concept of “iron sharpening iron” comes to life. As a mentee, not only did I learn the basic mechanics of dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s, connecting sentences, and structuring essays; I also learned unexpected lessons—I learned to use courage to bolster my power and live out my dream of becoming a writer.

Today is the day. I woke early to prepare for the interview. A friend had referred me to the owner of a local newspaper for a position as an entertainment reporter. I was interviewing for a job I desperately wanted, but at the same time I didn’t believe I could adequately fill the position. To bolster my courage, I played “I Believe I Can Fly” on the stereo while I searched for the perfect outfit. I raced back and forth, from the dresser to the closet. Standing in front of the mirror, I saw myself wearing a black pinstriped suit with a white blouse and black tie. “This looks good, but maybe it’s too strong of a statement for a small local paper,” I muttered to myself. Flinging the suit on the bed, I tried my navy blue suit. Too much like a uniform. After digging through the closet, I found my beige suit. That’s not going to work.

I threw the suit and myself on the bed, tears pouring down my face. I clenched my fists and hit the pillow as I yelled, “This job is for writers! If they test my writing ability, they’ll probably toss me out on my ear. How humiliating and how embarrassing would that be? I can’t write. I can’t do this job. Who am I kidding?”