It is well with my soul

Backed up against a wall with no way out.

That’s how my mother felt when she went over the family finances one Saturday evening as her little family slept all snug in their beds. With the checkbook close to a zero balance, the dark-haired brunette knew she was going to need a divine intervention.

In between taking out the dirty dishes to the kitchen following Sunday dinner, the tall slender woman sat down next to her husband at the dining room table to share her concerns.

“I was paying a few bills last night,” noted Mom as she placed the couple’s dinner plates together with their utensils on top. “We have less than ten dollars in our bank account.”

“I don’t have enough money to buy groceries this week,” explained the homemaker as she broke down and her voice began to quiver. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“I’m a little confused,” declared the blond-haired minister handing his spouse the handkerchief from his trousers. “How did our checking account get that low in the first place?”

After blowing her nose and wiping her tears with the silk-like material, the mother of three delineated the bills – electric, water and car insurance – coming due that week.

“However, the car insurance only comes due once every six months,” stated the minister’s wife as she took the dirty serving plates before heading into the kitchen. “This just happens to be the month it’s due.”

“I’ve been trying to keep back some money each month to pay it,” she continued while making room for both of them at the double-bowl sink. “But something always seems to come up.”

“How much do you think we need,” the young father queried as he contemplated on a few thoughts of his own placing the eating tools into the counter top dish drying rack.

The stay-at-home mother ran through a mental list of items as she removed the stopper letting out the dirty dish water wiping the sink basin of soap suds with the dish cloth.

“I can do without some things,” she mentioned wringing out the dish rag. “But we need at least fifty dollars to make it through til next week; but we’re in an impossible situation.”

“You know as well as I do that nothing is impossible with God,” the tall clergyman turned toward his wife and clasped her by both hands.

Standing at the kitchen sink in their home below the church sanctuary, the young couple called out to their Heavenly Father and asked Him to supply their need.

Later that evening, Dad was upstairs in the sanctuary exuberantly singing “It Is Well with My Soul” as he prepared for the evening service. The Bible scholar was walking back and forth between the wooden benches as he returned songbooks into the racks on the backside of each pew.

Sister Laverne Mize, one of the many stalwart prayer warriors of the church, came over to greet the pastor before taking her usual seat.

“I was singing the very same song when God awakened me from my afternoon nap,” noted the white-haired woman as she offered up her weathered hand. “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

“I have always clung to the story behind the words,” commented the preacher after placing the last of the hymnals in its place.

“Indeed,” exclaimed the Ellsworth resident opening up her black pocketbook. “The author wrote it on his way to meet his wife after losing his daughters to the ocean.”

“It is a great testament to our faith and trust in God,” stated the father of three as he leaned against the back of the pew to continue their conversation about the inspirational song.

“In addition,” he continued looking into the godly woman’s kind eyes while clasping his hands together. “It is also a reminder to us that God will take care of us in our time of need.”

“We also need to be obedient to the voice of God, which is why I am giving this to you now,” declared the church member pulling out an envelope with the words, ‘Pastor Price’ written on it. “God instructed me to do it when He woke me out of a dead sleep.”

“God bless you sister for your faithfulness to our Father in Heaven,” Dad gave the matronly woman a gentle hug before she went about greeting her fellow parishioners.

The pastor placed the envelope in the pocket of his suit jacket and never gave it another thought until after the Sunday night service.

Following the Holy Ghost-filled service with a message and interpretation in tongues, Dad came back downstairs to the apartment and removed his suit jacket when he realized there was something protruding from the pocket.

That’s when he remembered his previous conversation with one of the church’s dear saints, Sister Mize, about being obedient to the voice of God.

The blond-haired minister reached down and pulled the envelope from the interwoven pocket thinking about the inspirational hymn and what it meant to him. When the God fearing man opened the flap of the legal size container, his mouth dropped wide open.

It was a check for fifty dollars – the exact amount of money they petitioned God for earlier that very afternoon.

Cecil ran through the house praising the name of Jesus all the way to the bathroom where his wife was readying herself for bed.

“What in the world,” exclaimed Barbara as she laughed at her husband’s excitement. “Your as bad as the boys making all that ruckus just after I put Kathleen to bed.”

After briefly explaining the earlier conversation he had with the dear saint of a woman, he showed her the fifty dollar check.They embraced and both broke the house rules about noise after hours by shouting praises to their Heavenly Father.