TELLING IT TO MY CHILDREN 

A couple of places in the Bible admonish parents to pass down to their children what God has done. In Psalm 78, fathers are told to tell their kids so that they can tell their kids. Sunday morning, our interim pastor brought a letter that had been written by his father when in his 90s, which gave an account of God’s awesome love in answering what some might call a frivolous request. Since it was about a wallet lost in a huge canyon in California, I was reminded of our own Heldman wallet story. It’s a good one and it was a huge step in learning to trust the Lord when things looked very dim.

Ken and I took four teenagers to Iowa to hold vacation Bible schools in two rural areas. We stayed in the homes of local church people. I remember well the 750-acre farm where we spent several nights. It was Ken and me, Nate who was 2, Matt who was 6 months, a teenage boy and the three girls members of our team.

Our host family was so hospitable. In fact, one night we were there, 17 guests stayed overnight! They had a huge garden. Mrs. Ross made pies one after the other and with very little effort. Mr. Ross introduced us to his horse and told us it was “plum gentle.” It was the only horse available for riding. We would have to take turns.

We all went. Ken went out and rode all over the acreage, loving every minute of it. I never claimed to be a horseback riding buff, so I stayed closer to home. That evening, after having held our Bible school sessions and having eaten dinner, Ken discovered that his wallet was missing. It had the church credit card to be used for our expenses and all the cash of our team members, as well as ours. He was pretty sure he must have lost it while out riding. He was not happy.

It was night which meant waiting long hours until the dawn. Ken, feeling the responsibility and very aware of the vastness of the land over which he had galloped, was agitated. I, in my usual Polyanna manner, held on to the assurance that we would find it.

At dawn, we were both up, Ken angry and without hope, and me talking to the Lord something like this: “Lord, You can help us find that wallet. You could put legs and arms on it and it could walk up to the door and knock and say ‘Here I am!’” I meant it.

How well I remember that morning! My canvas shoes were soaked as I walked through the sagebrush, wet with dew. What an enormous task! I heard Ken grumbling and discouraged and my heart went out to him. He was entirely convinced that we could never find it and I, with a thread of faith, cried to God to prove Himself for us.

I remember, too, like it happened yesterday, looking up in response to the voice of my husband. He was standing under a huge tree. “I found it,” he said, knowing just how loud to say it so that I would hear it, and no louder. I ran to him. Sure enough, there it was, in his hand. Dry. Not only had God blessed us with the finding of the wallet, but because it fell where there was no grass, He had kept all the “stuff” on the inside perfectly dry.

To me, telling this story is just like a mom back in Exodus telling here kids about being so scared at the Red Sea and watching God open it miraculously. My mom still tells me about the mighty acts of God in her life! She is 94!