When God Hands You a Meal Ticket

“God, I can’t do this. I can’t make this story work.”

I’d reached that point in the rough draft where everything seems hopeless. The characters feel flat; the plot twisted beyond help.

I’d been there with Mistaken. I’d pushed through it with Out of the Ruins (Book 1 of the Golden Gate Chronicles, releasing in May 2014).

Now I’m knee-deep in the second book of the series, set in the aftermath of the San Francisco earthquake and fires of 1906.

“Father, will anyone want to read this?”

Does God answer prayers? Of course. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times, God responds with a gentle pat on your shoulder; a quiet reminder that says, “Don’t worry–I’m here.”

My husband handed me a nondescript white envelope. “My brother found this in an old family desk. It’s marked ‘San Francisco’, and he thought you might want it.”

I pulled it open and a tiny card fluttered into my palm. If my jaw weren’t attached, it would have hit the floor. A 1906 Red Cross meal coupon? I’d read about them in my research, but I never expected to hold one in my hand. I’d never even seen a picture of one. These tickets were handed out in the San Francisco refugee camps to individuals the camp administrators deemed “worthy” of receiving meals–people who weren’t loafing around or causing trouble. Honest individuals who were working hard and just needed a little extra help.

Like me? God sent me a meal ticket.

Watermark mine, on image only.

Watermark mine–not on actual ticket.

As I turned it over and over in my hand, it was as if I could hear His voice.

“Don’t worry. I was there in 1906. And I’m here now.”

Tweet-Worthy?

Click-to-Tweet: I prayed for help and God handed me a meal ticket–from 1906. Read the story!
Click-to-Tweet: Discouraged? God is closer than you think.

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