When I was 21….

I had a beautiful son who stayed with us for six months. One night, I went to see why he hadn’t woken for his meal. My son had died. I was later to find out it was cot death. I couldn’t understand why it happened – he was my first child, what had I done wrong? Those questions were answered some years later, but the point to my story at this time is that we were broke, we had little money and we didn’t know how we were going to pay for his funeral. We didn’t tell anyone, not even our family, but we did wonder how. I prayed about it, as I do anytime I’m in need. Some family members gave us money to help us (remember though, we hadn’t told them). Unknown to us, our neighbours took up a collection throughout the whole street. The sums of money given us equalled exactly the quotation we’d been given for the cost of the funeral. When we arrived at the parlour to pay the bill, it seemed that the quotation was slightly out – by $5.00. That was the exact amount I had in my purse! God had provided for us to the exact dollar!

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