Our Love Story—Mailbox Money

I left the business office just before it was closing for the day and went for a short walk around campus to blow off some steam before my dinner shift started in the cafeteria. The last thing anyone wanted to see was me crying over their pizza or throwing their pepperoni across the room—which is what I wanted to do at that point. Sometimes life felt so unfair.

I decided to check my on campus mailbox for the umpteenth time that day (mail was delivered throughout the day, so it wasn’t uncommon to receive mail multiple times in one day), hoping for an encouragement card from a friend, or a big giant A+ written across the top of one of my papers. Something, anything that would help lift my spirits.

I peeked through the glass and saw an envelope. Please let this be from Rob—that would make my day. I thought to myself.   

But as I pulled out the plain white envelope I saw Box 778 written in unfamiliar handwriting. It definitely wasn’t Rob’s… or anyone else who typically sent me mail for that matter.

I curiously pried open the envelope and my jaw hit the floor.

There, inside of that envelope were five crisp $20 bills. Five of them! As in, the exact amount of money I just had to unexpectedly pay to the business office. As in, the exact amount I needed to make it from now until my next paycheck.

How? Who? What? Seriously?

I examined the envelope closely looking for clues as to who might have given me such an incredible gift. It had no markings inside or out, other than my box # written in black ink. It had to have come from someone on campus because there were no post markings.

The only thing that stood out about this envelope (besides its amazing contents of course) was the pattern on the inside. It was peculiar—unlike any envelope pattern I’d ever seen—definitely unique.     

I barely knew any of my professors at that point. I hadn’t gotten plugged in at any specific church yet. All of my friends were poor college students just like I was. Not a soul in the world knew how significantly I was struggling financially, or that I had just gotten that devastating letter earlier that day. Where on Earth did this blessing come from?

Once again God was showing me, as clearly as a neon sign on a hillside pointing the way in the dead of night, that he was going provide for me. That he knew my needs even before I did. That he loved me and cared for me. That he answered prayers and moved in the hearts of people.  

I was still having a difficult time wrapping my mind around a God so big—who cared so deeply about the intimate little details of my life. The contents of that peculiar little envelope made it clearer to me than ever that God loved me and had a wonderful plan for my life.

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