Dream Come True

Years ago, when I lived in the first house I had ever bought, I was preparing for a painter to come and paint the room that was my office.  As I began the not-so-fun task of getting everything out of the room, I decided it would be okay to leave the incredibly heavy wood desk in the center of the room, covered with an old tablecloth.

On the day the painter was finally scheduled to arrive, a dear friend of mine was in desperate need of someone to watch her young son while she went to a doctor’s appointment.  Now we all know how very difficult it is to get any kind of work done with your home.  It takes forever to get someone there, so once you know they are actually coming, probably the only thing that would cancel that momentous occasion is the house crumbling to the ground.

I called family members who I thought might be able to come and sit in my house and I checked with a couple neighbors who I knew were home during the day and all of them had previous commitments that could not be changed or broken.  I asked if it would be okay to bring my friend’s son back to my house for the day, but they lived a bit of a distance from me and he had a baseball game that day.  I was not cancelling the painter.  And I certainly was not going to leave my friend without child care.

When I started to really think about the situation, I laughed at myself.  I certainly don’t own anything of tremendous value.  I’m a pretty simple person.  And this painter was also recommended by two different friends of mine.  Surely I could trust him in my home while I was gone.

The day came and I started to panic.  I had arranged to pay a rather hefty sum of cash for something later that day and remembered that the cash was in my home because the bank would be closed by the time I got home.  After thinking and rethinking and then thinking some more about the most secure place to leave the cash, I decided to stuff it in a folder at the bottom of one of the desk drawers in the room that was being painted.

Fast forward to later that night.  The room looked great.  The painter had even managed to move the desk back to it’s original place for me and everything seemed to be in order.  When the person came to get payment for the item for which I was paying cash, I went to the desk to fish out the envelope and . . . .NO.  ENVELOPE.

I tore apart every single thing that was in that drawer, looking for the envelope of cash.  Nothing.  After much negotiating and discussion, another plan was agreed upon for the item I was hoping to purchase and the person left.  And I went back to the office again and rummaged through that drawer and it’s contents three times over.  The envelope was definitely not there.

Two days later, the painter came back to see if I was satisfied with his work and to collect his money.  I was livid.  But I was also backed into a corner because I couldn’t prove he stole the cash.  He came to the door, asked if I was satisfied, to which I grunted a nasty “yes” and shoved the money to him through a slight crack in the door, practically slamming the door in his face.

Fast forward again, about three months later.  At this point, I was still angry but at least wasn’t thinking about the situation every single second of every single day, like I had been.  I had a very vivid dream one night.  So vivid, I still remember it quite clearly.

I remember a voice telling me to get up, go to the desk, and look in the right hand pocket of the yellow folder in the bottom drawer.  Immediately, I got up, went right to the spot I was told by the voice and sure enough . . . .THE.  ENVELOPE, with every single dollar accounted for!

The voice was that of my friend who needed child care the day the painter came.  She had died of cancer soon after that day.  When I tell this story, I joke that finding that envelope was her way of paying me for my services that day.  🙂

We have higher sources looking out for us.  They are so much closer than we can even imagine, I think.

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