Aldi Quarter

“Excuse me, but do you happen to have an extra quarter?” The lady addressing me looked slightly hesitant as she stood near the Aldi cart corral outside the grocery store. It was early evening, and I recognized the tiredness in her eyes because I am sure mine looked the same. Long days at work, and now here we were grabbing some last-minute groceries so we could get dinner on the table at some point. I immediately started digging around in the bottom of my purse in hopes of finding some loose change. No luck. I grabbed my wallet, and though feeling pretty sure that I had never taken the time to actually zip a quarter into the change compartment, I hoped beyond hope that I could give this weary fellow-mom a quarter so she could grab a cart and get her shopping done. Please, Lord…let there be a quarter in here. There were two. Hallelujah. With a smile and huge relief, I was able to hand her a quarter. She thanked me. I said, “You are so welcome,” and we were both off to make our purchases. The whole exchange took about 30 seconds. But it stayed with me as I walked the aisles of the store. Such a profound gratitude that I was able to give her that quarter. Such a relief. I kept thinking about it as I made it back to the meat section. I found myself grabbing ground beef and saying, “Thank you, Lord,” in my heart. “Thank you that I had a quarter.” And then the tears came. What on earth? I could feel that thing my face does right before an ugly cry. I felt burning hot tears welling up in my eyes and that sensation as your throat tightens and almost hurts right before you lose it completely. What was happening to me? Why was I about to melt down in the meat section over a quarter? Get it together, sister! I slowed my breathing. I bit my lips. I looked up at the light. After a few minutes, I was able to carry on and check out. Once in the car, I tried to process what just happened. This made no sense.

Then I thought about my day before the grocery store. Sitting with women in the prison, as I have for the past 3 weeks with our new groups. Hearing their stories for the first time. All of the pain. All of the shattering. Almost 6 years into this work I thought I had heard it all up to this point. I thought the stories of suffering I had already heard were as bad as it gets. They were not. Apparently, they could get worse. I found myself without words over and over again as I would just hand each lady a Kleenex. The only words I could seem to find to say out loud were, “I am so sorry. I am just so sorry you experienced that.” The words screaming inside of me were, “Jesus, please heal. She needs you now. We need you now. This is too much.”

As I kept processing this, I just began to pray in the car in the parking lot. “Lord, help. I can’t fix this. I can’t heal any of this. I can’t change their situation. I can’t wrap my mind around the kind of evil that leads to the things that have been done to these precious women. How do they heal? Lord, I can’t fix this.”

And then it hit me.

The quarter.

That was the one problem I could actually fix. A woman needed a quarter. I gave her one. Her problem was solved. I wept.

And then His voice in my soul. Gentle. Kind. “Amber, their healing is in My hands. Not yours, sweet girl. You are right. You can’t heal them. But I can. Give them to me. Place them in my hands. This is not a burden you can carry. I will carry it, and I will carry you.”

I am still processing that experience. Still sitting in that and praying to truly receive and obey Him in that. I get this wrong sometimes. I know that I am to walk in dependence on Him, and yet I take off as if I can do the things He has called me to in my own strength. I don’t mean to, it just happens. And every time I try to carry that yoke alone, it crushes me. I don’t think God ever calls us to things we can do without Him. I was talking to a precious friend a couple months ago and I told her that I feel like I am coming to the end of myself- to the end of my own strength. She surprised me by replying, “Good!” She is right. If coming to the end of my strength is where He takes over, then may it be so quickly.

In light of that, Lord, keep my eyes on You. Without You in this yoke with me, I am crushed. Without You in the boat with me, I drown in the first storm. Without You in the fire with me, I am consumed. Without my eyes locked on Yours as I step out onto this sea, I go under. Without your Spirit moving in and through me, I can do nothing. Without operating in the strength you provide, the best I can offer anyone on my own… is a quarter.

 May I never forget that. Absolute. Unceasing. Dependence.