In one of my darkest moments of our money mania, I happened to be at Hy-Vee, the grocery store. I watched as a little hunchbacked old lady bought groceries including 8 boxes of panti-liners, and I remember wondering what she could possibly need all those for.
I watched as she pushed her heavy cart to the parking lot alone, feeling very alone in my own soul. I offered to help her with her groceries and as we headed toward the cars, we talked. She told me she’d just lost her husband of many years, and I felt even more heartbroken than I had a few minutes before.
I loaded the groceries as she fumbled about in her purse. I wished her a good-day and turned around as she yelled “wait, I have something for you.” My first thought was that she wanted to tip me, and I didn’t want anything for my few seconds of grocery handling.
She handed me 3 business cards printed on parchment paper. They each had 3 words…”Expect a Miracle.” I glanced again to make sure I was looking at them right. We hugged, parted and I got in my truck to head home.
At that very moment, all I needed was a glimmer of hope. Expect a miracle resonated in my soul. I started to cry…tears streaming down my face. Dennis and I needed a miracle, in the worst way. Had God sent an angel disguised as a widowed Granny buying panty-liners to give me hope and let me know that things were going to be okay?
Three days later our mega-mansion sold, clearing almost $700,000 of our $2.3 million of debt. 1 burden lifted. $1.6 million to go.
I believe in miracles and angels dressed as Grannies. Do you?