I’m really not sure what God is up to, but tonight makes three times in nine days: food miracles.
Last Saturday we were down to our last few dollars. Even though it was tight, I bought hot dogs for my family to eat for Sunday dinner. “It’s not that big of splurge,” I rationalized. The truth was, I wanted someone everyone likes with minimal prep.
The kids had a big snack at church, but after we got home my husband and I were famished. I counted, and realized that if we both had one there would still be enough for dinner. I microwaved one and, since the kids wanted to play outside, gave it to my husband so he could head out and supervise.
Mine had just finished microwaving when my husband came in and informed me that his hot dog had created quite a stir. All of my boys’ friends wanted in on the action, too.
Of course we weren’t going to eat in front of hungry kids, so I made up the rest and we had a hot dog party outside.
Which was great… Until it was time to cook dinner. I didn’t really have much, and I was starting to regret our decision to share.
“I didn’t want to cook today — that’s why I bought them in the first place,” went the inner grumbling.
After about an hour of pretending not to notice what time it was, my husband asked me to make something for dinner. I stood slowly, hoping something would change my destiny.
Our neighbor who happens to be one of the best grillers on the planet knocked on the door before I had even gotten to the kitchen.
“Do you guys want any hot dogs? We have extra and they aren’t the kind we usually get that we like….”
My husband and I looked at each other a little stunned.
And then Thursday I didn’t have bread. This time we had money in the bank, but we had run out of bread and I hadn’t gotten to the store to buy any.
I told my husband the meal would be better with bread, but we were going to have to make do.
I finished cooking and went out to call my husband and the kids.
There stood my friend. She had been trying to call me because she was bringing bread by the campus. I hadn’t answered, so she just grabbed three loaves and brought them over.
“That’s the second time this week,” my husband said.
“I know,” I said.
And then tonight. My husband was outside grilling chicken. I was inside stalling, mostly because we didn’t have much in the house to go with the chicken. My husband came in and called out, “Can you bring out something to go with the chicken? Like fruit or vegetables?”
“We don’t have any,” I said.
“How about something to go with chips?”
OK, I could handle that.
I went outside and saw that we had a guest for dinner: a 4 year old Korean boy who knows about 10 words of English and has been having a hard time since he moved here a few weeks ago.
We were eating when his mother came out with a platter full of – you guessed it – fruit.
“That’s like three times in a week!” my husband said as I nodded.
So God has our attention.
I know this isn’t all about food, since the Bible teaches that we don’t live by bread alone but by every word God speaks.
But I do know that He is using food to demonstrate His detailed faithfulness to our family.