ATM Appointment

This past Saturday was more busy than normal at our house, cleaning up after having friends over the night before, preparing for family coming on Sunday.  The kitchen was especially busy with culinary activity.  My wife thrives on cooking for company.  But, lunch time arrived and our girls were hungry after morning chores.  Now, I am not an impulsive person.  And I am cheap.  If there is food in the house, I see no good reason to pay someone else to cook for us.  But, I had errands to run and I could tell, thanks to some gentle hints from The Missus, that added activity in the kitchen would NOT be a good thing at that moment.  So, I packed up the girls and we headed out.  But, lunch requires money.  So, we had to stop at an ATM.  Automatic Teller Machines.  Available 24/7.  No appointment necessary.

Since my errands took us in the opposite direction of our usual ATM location, I stopped at one I rarely use.  For my passengers benefit, I circled the parking lot trying to find a shady spot.  In addition to cash needs, I had a check to deposit.  An accumulation of small delays that meant I was in the right place at the right time for an appointment at the ATM.

I had just finished pocketing my cash, when a middle-aged woman, who had parked next to our van while I was busy ATM-ing, came up to me.

"Sir, are those your girls in the van... reading?"

That sounds simple enough, until you understand how my admittedly paranoid brain interpreted the words coming out of her mouth while she spoke.

"Sir…"  (Why is she talking to me?  Doesn't she know this is an ATM and people don't talk when they are dealing with money?)

"…are those your girls in the van…"  (She is going to accuse me of being an irresponsible parent for leaving them by themselves.  The police are already on their way.)

"…reading?"  (What did she just say?  Reading? READING?  Oh…)

"Um, yes." I eloquently responded, still not quite sure what this was leading to.

"How do you do it?" she asked. "How do you get them to sit and read like that?"

I was caught flat-footed.  I mumbled something about limiting television and computer time and providing lots of books.

Before I was finished, she started talking again about how great it was to see them reading and how she has a sister who was, well still is, a Christian and homeschooled her three kids who are doing great.  Well, the youngest is kind of trying to figure things out, but still they are all great kids.  Then she went on about her boyfriend's niece or nephew who is constantly texting no matter where they are -- at the house or out in public -- and you never see THEM with a book.  Reading is so important, you know...

She wanted to shake my hand.  She told me I was a great Dad.  As we were shaking hands, I managed to interject that my wife did most of the work.  

"Well, you are both doing a wonderful job."  

This was all feeling rather awkward.  I was needing to get on with my day and I knew the girls, in spite of their literary pursuits, were wondering why it was taking me so long to get some green paper from the magic money machine.  I took a step or two towards the van, then this stranger said something that struck me, hard.

"Seeing that gives me hope.  I am nothing, I am a piece of s**t.  But when I see kids like that, it really gives me hope."

I was speechless, again.  Fortunately, she wasn't.

"I am going to tell my sister about you and your girls.  You are a great Dad.  You be sure and tell your wife that she is doing an incredible job and you are a great Dad."

I thanked her and said I would and got back into the van.

That encounter keeps replaying in my head.  I think of all the things I should have said: that she was more than nothing, that she was created for a purpose.  Inside that middle-aged woman is a little girl who wasn't nurtured the way my wife and I are able to care for our girls.  Whose soul has not yet been gripped by the truth that she is loved unconditionally by a heavenly Father.  Whose life is one of regret and fragile or broken relationships.  But, somehow, what she needed to hear that day had already been spoken.  I didn't have to say anything about Christianity or homeschooling -- she already had.  All I needed to do was show up with a van full of girls who are in the process of becoming and God spoke to her heart.  Somehow, without my explanation, she saw in a brief glimpse of three girls with their noses in books, the accumulated years of daily tending to the soil of their hearts.  And she somehow intuited the reason for all of it.

So often I mistakenly assume my efforts and my eloquence are the ingredients God needs to accomplish His will in my sphere of influence.  I didn't have to take the girls on my errands, or stop at the 'wrong' ATM, or take an extra couple of minutes to find parking.  But, I did. Which reminded me that, more than anything, I need to be faithful in my hidden duties day in and day out, and let God make the appointments.