But mentally, I flashed back to six years prior. It was early January; I lived in New York and had just gotten accepted into my dream graduate program in Washington, D.C. However, with only two weeks prior notice, I didn’t have enough time nor the funds to make the relocation process flow seamlessly. So I hopped on a one-way train to D.C., leaving everything behind, except for a large suitcase filled with winter clothing and a backpack of school supplies for my first semester.
I took a leap of faith, and spent my first two months camping out on a friend’s couch until I was able to snag a job and rent a room for myself. After spending so much time living on a couch, I had almost forgotten the luxury of privacy. I was appreciative of my room and grateful to have a door to my own space that I could open and close as I wished. I didn’t care that the floor was slanted, so things often rolled from one end of the room to the other if left unattended. Inside, all I had was a sleeping mat and a small cardboard box that I turned upside down to serve as my makeshift nightstand.
“How could I forget,” I murmured back to my old supervisor as I waited for my order number to be called.
Moments later, the cashier signaled me over and whispered, “I know you only ordered one meal, but I see you all the time, so I put two extra meals in your bag, on us!”
I smiled and thanked him.
Back in my apartment, I placed my food on the kitchen counter. Suddenly, I felt God’s voice in my heart say, “Sometimes, I have to allow you to see what I brought you through to remind you that I will never abandon you — that’s why you ran into your old supervisor. And the extra two meals that you got, that’s to remind you that I will always provide double than what you ask me for.”
Immediately, the tears gushed from my eyes, but harder and faster than they did earlier. I got on my knees, said a prayer, and directly paid my tithe online, which I was so reluctant to give earlier.
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