For three years, since I moved into this place, I’ve left my car unlocked in the driveway. The street has always been safe, until now.
Yesterday morning, when I reached the car to leave for work, I realized someone had been in it: glove box junk taken out, napkins and cigarette ashes on the seat, cd holder open, etc. The only thing worth taking (for a non believer) was the loose change, which the person took. Immediately, I thought, “This won’t affect me. I know who I am in Christ,” and carried on with my morning.
I warned Katie what happened, told her to be careful, and left for work. As I was talking to God, I realized…it affected me, and I began to cry a little. Then, I began to weep. I noticed how fear was creeping in, tempting me to agree with it. I even had the thought to not post anymore…disable FB. It was weird. The thoughts kept swimming in and out of my prayer, so I reached out for help.
You know you have a friend (in this case…a family of friends) when you can call them in the morning, waking them up, asking for prayer, as you’re falling apart. [Enter, stage left: Sierra Elise Richardson, Rey Richardson, Megan Cheek, and Remi] It sounded like the whole family was in the room supporting me. Rey woke up to pray for me. He still had that scratchy what-time-is-it voice and prayed the most beautiful prayer over me, and they all showered with me with love.
A little bit ago, they reached out to me and asked how I was feeling. Twelve hours later, they’re checking up on me, and just to make sure I had a smile on my face, Rey sent me this picture. I love God. I love how He creates people to be in relationship with Him and with one another. I love friends, and I love being covered in love.