The money wasn’t mine.  My car was new.  The road was slick ice.

She opened the door and said, “Oh bless you!  I knew you would come.”  I thought, “How could she know?  Her phone was turned off.”

“A member of our church found out you were in trouble.  This check is to cover the bills.”  I looked around the room, and in the living room I saw pews and a keyboard setup.  I was standing on holy ground.

“You need to see what I do here, so you can tell anyone in trouble to come visit me.  I will help anybody.  Drunks, homeless, anybody who’s hungry.”  Her large pantry was a homemade food distribution center.  Stacks of day old pastries and cans of vegetables clung to every surface.

“Can I pray for you and your ministry.  And, I would like to place my hand on your shoulder while I pray.”

“Now listen, you don’t need to ask me to pray.  We are both Christians, and you are my brother, and I am your sister, and you better hug me while you pray.”  Even though we didn’t know last names, we embraced.  I prayed.  At the end she said, “Don’t say that the generous person sent you here; God did it, and you obeyed.”

I was able to give to a giver because somebody gave and because God connected us, wove us together.

I have heard it said that humans are religious because we love to find patterns that aren’t really there. We then elevate those patterns above ourselves and call them God or gods.

But in the patterns that day, I saw a continuous thread.  Throughout those moments I saw unconditioned, even un-vetted,  love.

“God is love” 1John 4:8