My God Will Supply All My Need

In 1994 I arrived on the campus of Liberty University. My friend, who had to get back to Indiana in a hurry,  dropped me at the door of The Vines Center one late afternoon in August. I had two suitcases, some bedding, and a garment bag. I walked up to the entrance and my made way forward to pull on the door. Locked. Tight. So, there I stood. Me. My bags. Tears ready to blast out of my eyes. 

A young man came to the door. "I'm sorry. We're closing down. Registration will re-open tomorrow morning." 

Oh God, I am sure this is where you told me to come.

My friend was gone.I had no vehicle. This was before the days of cell phones. My family was 550 miles away. There were college students everywhere, but I knew no one. Not one person on this campus, off this campus, or in the entire state of Virginia. 

Oh God, please.

A young lady saw the distress in my face. She saw the tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. She pushed past the uncomfortable young man commanding, "Let her in."

Thank you.

I waited for hours and hours in the infamous long LU lines. I drug my baggage around everywhere, feeling that it gave me something to hide behind.

Waiting on my housing assignment took awhile. When I finally got to the front, I gave a tired lady who was trying to smile my name. She did a search. Gave me a dorm number, a room number. A place to stay. Only there was no dorm with that number. Something had gone wrong. Too many students. Not enough rooms.

Oh God, I am sure this is where you told me to come.

Almost-smiling lady found a space for me with two upperclassman on the softball team who were not expecting a third roomie. 

On to the next line. The one where I had to explain how I was going to pay for the year. 

I plopped down in the chair next to the financial counselor and shared my plan. This loan, plus this loan, plus this scholarship, plus work study. It all added up just right.

Only it wasn't just right. The counselor popped my perfect plan. One of the loans was only available to parents of college students. Not to students.

Oh God, please.

Well, I can formulate a plan faster than a college student can make Ramen noodles, and I did.

I'd use my one year loan in one semester. During winter break I'd go back home, work, and come back the following year when I had enough money. That's what I'd do, and the man in the suit signed off on it. 

I found my work study job quickly. I started cleaning the bathrooms. It was one of the only slots still open, and I needed a job. Besides, scrubbing 10 showers and 8 toilets each day burns a lot of calories. It was like getting paid to work out. 

A few weeks in to the semester, while moving the vacuum down the hall to find another outlet to continue sweeping, I bumped into Summer. She complemented me, telling me that the girls living on that hall were happy to have me as their cleaning person (ahem . . . I did kick some cleaning person booty). I told her that I would only be there one semester and explained about not having enough. 

Summer piped up, "Let's call financial aid right now. I think they will help you."  

What did she just say? Didn't she understand how uncomfortable this would be? I couldn't just ask for money. My goodness. Rude. Greedy. Embarrassing.

Didn't she understand I come from a long line of hard working people? We are willing to work, but we don't do hand-outs. But . . .

Oh God, I am sure this is where you told me to come.

Okay, Summer. She brought her phone out to the hallway and dialed the number for me.

Oh God, please.

I explained it all. And the counselor was willing to give me enough financial aid to keep me there for the spring semester. I would only be able to take 13 hours, putting me a little bit behind my plan, but I could stay.

Thank you.

This story reminds me of another. You see, once there was a girl who was still pretty good at formulating plans. She was good at working hard. She was good at not wanting to depend on God or to ask His people for help, even when she knew where He wanted her to be.

We started our adoption journey with $300. Not sure I'd recommend that, but that's how it happened. 

I had a plan. Oh yes, I had a plan. We would simply apply for an adoption loan and get things going then we'd work it off or get a grant. No big deal.

Oh, until we found out that grants and loans aren't available until your home study is complete.

I had a real fit. Lots of tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes when I reached for that door and it was locked. Tight.

Oh God, I am sure this is where you told us to come.

Plan 2: We'll just figure out how to get money for the first few things, zip through the home study, then we'll get our loan and apply for grants. We chose our home study agency in May.  

And then God kept postponing our home study.

Background checks were overlooked by our social worker.

Our agency took six weeks to review it.

Our social worker was in Japan when the checks came back.

It was contract-guaranteed to be ready September 4th. It was ready December 3rd. 

And in that time, we put our hands to work. Thankfully, it wasn't toilets this time, but it was work. We also asked for help. 

During that time God was {and still is} so faithful. Even though we've worked hard to guard against debt for thirteen years, our first instinct was to go the loan route; He had such better plans for us. His plan is always better than mine. I wish I could brand that on my heart, but it is going to be an ongoing lesson for the rest of my days. 

The next few posts on this blog are going to be about fundraising for adoption. I wanted to start with this post because the glory is His. I want you to know that He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. $40,000 is such a mountain. For me. But not Him. It's like 4 cents. Or less. Nothing. And He owns it all anyway.

So, as I talk about different ideas and options for you to make plans and put hands to work, know that He might have a better way. A very better way for bringing glory to His name.