An Ordinary Miracle
Yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, I stood in the driveway, surrounded by boxes and memories and covered in dirt and fear, when two women approached me. They were both smiling, as if they were long lost friends. But I couldn’t place them. For a moment I thought maybe they had seen all the stuff in the yard and thought it was a garage sale. And then the girl with the strawberry blonde hair said, “Are you Lynn Rink?” “Yes”, I said, confused. (Slightly worried that I was being served some kind of legal papers!) Then she said,
“12 Ordinary Woman want you to know today that you are loved.”
She handed me an envelope stuffed and over flowing with cash. Twenty’s and ten’s and singles. I was so confused. I tried to speak, but before I could, the woman with the dark hair hugged me and said, “Have an awesome blessed day.” I burst into tears and they both turned and walked away. I stood there shaking and crying. “Wait, what just happened,” I said out loud. And just like that, they were gone. Inside the envelope was hundreds of dollars and a beautiful necklace of the tree of life.
This random act of kindness was something I have never personally experienced before. Or I should say, before this life transition. I wish I could tell you all the many stories and details of God’s truly tangible love being displayed to me by others during this time, but many have asked to remain anonymous. But when I needed exactly $500, someone who didn’t know that specific need wrote me a check for that exact amount. When I wasn’t sure how I was going to get groceries, a gift card appeared in my mailbox. Over and over and time and time again, people have shown up to carry boxes, or take me to lunch, or answer the phone when I needed to cry. I have truly never felt so held and supported. I have tried to stay present through all of this and to stay grateful. But because I am a flawed human, somehow it’s easy to miss God in them. To call them coincidence or whatever. So the gift from 12 Ordinary Woman for me was God screaming loudly,
“Lynn, do you see me? Do you see that I’m (THE I AM) is taking care of you?”
When I had a moment, I researched them on the web. And here’s what it said….
It all started with a group of women from Franklin, Tennessee in April of 2009…It was our heart’s desire to give the gift of HOPE to other women. Now 12 Ordinary Women has grown in to so much more than we could have ever imagined, groups have formed all over the country helping other women and giving the gift of HOPE. There are now men who come together to help other men, they call themselves 12 Average Joes. Families are coming together to teach their children the gift of generosity, they call themselves 12 Ordinary Families.
Who would have known that 12 ordinary women of different ages, education, and experiences could come together once a month to quietly make a difference in another woman’s life and end up starting a revolution of generosity and hope. Our hope is that others across the country will continue to catch the vision for starting their own groups and begin the process of helping others, quietly and anonymously.
I LOVE everything about this, and as I continue to put together The James Rink Foundation, I have been even more inspired to help people in such an awesome way as this organization has chosen.
As I sit and write this morning, in the red chair, surrounded by boxes that need unpacked, with aching muscles, a splinter the size of a toothpick lodged in my finger and the sound of Elmo blaring from James’ IPad, I am somehow at peace. Because I know that I AM is with me. But this is not about being uber spiritual, (believe me, you should have heard the thoughts in my head yesterday and the words that came out of my mouth)
but this is simply about the knowing that someone much bigger than myself is truly watching out for me.
To the woman who filled the envelope, who maybe gave their last twenty dollars, please know that my heart is full of thanks and gratitude for you. You were the voice of God that I needed to hear.
Today, I will start unpacking… box by box… because that’s the only way to keep moving. Just like staying sober, or not acting codependent, or not eating sugar – sometimes it’s one hour, or one day, or one box at a time, and we continue to heal and move towards the goal. (Looking at the big picture of what needs to be done is so daunting that all I want to do is go to Krispie Kreme) but instead I will start with just one box…
AND THEN maybe head to Krispie Kreme.