She had debated the issue with herself, over and over again. Twisting and turning it over and over in her mind, like a terrier mauling over a bone. There was no easy solution. No simple way out this time. She paced the worn kitchen tile, wringing her hands, glancing fertively at the over-flowing bill box. Willing it to just go away, but it wouldn't. She gnawed on a knuckle, her nails already bitten into ragged edges. She had exhausted every avenue, she could think of. Every agency had turned her down flat. Prayer did not work. She could not borrow nor beg another cent. Her hands ached from filling out job applications, only to hear, "sorry, not hiring." Yet the bill collector's would not understand any of this. The heat and electric would be shut off soon. She was one step away from foreclosure. There wasn't much in the way of food left, and no money to buy any. What was left for her? She poured herself another cup of coffee brewed from already used grounds, and made a slice of toast spread with the last of the jam. This was her supper. It was also all she had had all day. Her head thumped from thinking. Her stomache threatened to reject even this meager offering. " What now, God?" she thought." What am I suppose to do? I need help, Lord...I really do." She went and laid down on the sofa. Since her divorce eight years ago, the bed always felt too big. She thought about her nearly grown children. Would they even miss her? Really? Thank God, her ex made sure they ate. Random thoughts splilled across her mind like a patchwork quilt. An angel came to her, and thinking it was Death she welcomed him with open arms. Yes, this was a way out. Gently, the angel pushed her back and shook his head 'no.' One word emblazened itself across her mind then. Believe. With that, he was gone. She stirred from her half-sleep, not wanting the ethereal vision to leave. What was that banging? Someone at the door? Slowly she shuffled to it and pulled it open. "Hi Ma'am. This wouldn't fit in your box," the mailman handed her a thick manila envelope. In the upper corner the return address was a pair of embossed wings. Curious she opened it. She read the cover letter, then read it again. It was from the Angels of Mercy, "Dear Sister," it read. "So often in our daily life, it is easy to over look those less fortunate then ourselves. We become steeped in our own busy lives, our own worries and cares. Sometimes it is even hard to believe someone could use your help. With that in mind, we have prepared the following packet with information on programs designed for those who need financial assistance, help in finding a job, and the location of several food pantries. Perhaps you can pass this information along to a fellow person in need. Blessings on you. The Angels of Mercy." She felt tears fill her eyes. This wasn't exactly how she thought her prayers would be answered, but at least it was some hope...and with hope comes belief.
