My 50 Cent Miracle

My Fifty Cent Miracle
It wasn’t until the IRS came calling that I truly realized that my husband was gone and was not going to support me or our children any longer. I had only $8 in my change purse after the government levied our checking account. Some women have enough sense to change things into their own names, but I didn’t or, at least, I hadn’t figured it out yet.
It was a humiliating time. My husband had been a good provider and we had a five bedroom home in an upscale community. I drove a Cadillac and we had a boat and all the trimmings of suburbia, but I could no longer afford anything. My kids were in summer camp at the Y and I had to go in and beg them for a scholarship so that I could run around trying to get a job.
I was mortified to return from a job interview a few days later to discover that a local church had brought us several boxes of food. It brought tears to my eyes to see the eagerness on my kids’ faces as they unloaded the boxes and I realized that they were aware of the rather dire straits we were in.
I hadn’t gone on a real job interview it was more of an information session. I’d been a stay-at-home mom for some time, but I had volunteered with some private companies that brought foreign students to the U.S. to study English and I’d gotten very interested in teaching. So, I’d gone to my local community college which had a huge English as a Second Language (ESL) program and asked them how one went about getting a job.
The department chair explained to me that I’d need a master’s degree. My heart sunk. It had taken me close to 20 years to finally get a bachelor’s degree. The woman must have seen my distress, so she shared that adult schools also had ESL programs and that one could teach with them with an adult ed credential which could be obtained from the state if one had a 4 year degree. And so I set out on a path.
Eventually, the path took me to get finger-printed one of the last in a series of steps along the way. And it was going to cost $20.00 which I had to scrape together. I did some bookkeeping for a friend’s mom who owned a business, but could only pay me a few dollars an hour. Still, I was happy as I pulled into the civic center of the neighboring city. Until I pulled into the parking lot and realized that it was metered.
Large signs around the public lot announced the various penalties for failing to obtain a permit which could be had for a mere $.50 – fifty cents. Even then that was a cheap price to pay, but – to me – it might as well have been a king’s ransom. I had the $20.00 I needed to pay for my prints and not a nickel more. I wasn’t even tempted to rummage thru my purse. I was quite sure there was no money there. I’d long since robbed my piggy bank and rolled the coins for grocery money.
I stood looking at the vending machine reading the instructions again as if I could make it say something different – like “first twenty minutes free.” That didn’t happen.
What did happen though was even more amazing. A woman who was leaving rolled down her window and hollered, “Betty?” “Betty?” I looked around, but I didn’t see anyone else> I pointed to my chest and she nodded which was when I realized she was talking to me. “I’m not Betty, “ I began and she interrupted me.
“Oh, I was supposed to meet her here. She works afternoons and I work mornings and we’d talked on the phone about sharing our parking permit.”
“… but she’s not here. Would you like it?” she asked.
Would I like it, I thought to myself? Would I like it, I wanted to sing.
I managed a weak, “Yes,” as I walked over to her car. An answer to a prayer I hadn’t even dared to pray.
God promises to provide for us and he does – even in the smallest things.