I saw a post on Facebook a few days ago that said something like, “Like and share if you had a paper route.” I tagged Monty and my brother Adam on it because the three of us definitely have had a history with paper routes.
Adam had a paper route when he was about twelve years old. In the city we lived in at the time, the papers were thick and heavy, so a daily paper route was no small task. And those were the days when you had to go to all the customers on your paper route and collect their money for the paper if they hadn’t paid directly to the newspaper office. Adam convinced me to go with him to collect. We’d ring the customer’s doorbell, and when they answered, Adam would say, “We’re collecting for the paper.” There were many elderly people on Adam’s route, and they’d invite us into their homes while they went and got their money. I loved being invited inside because I could look around at people’s houses from my vantage point in the doorway. I liked seeing what people were watching on TV, and I was fascinated that people would go get the exact amount of money they owed Adam from a cookie jar or a box they kept in a desk. And all of the houses smelled the same—as if the walls had soaked up decades of pipe tobacco and casseroles. Adam did all the talking, so I could just look around and make up stories about the people we collected from.
Monty and I also had a paper route. When we got back from our honeymoon, we went over our budget and figured out that we could afford the monthly fee to have a cat in our apartment if we had a way to supplement our income. The only job we could figure out that we would have time to do was a paper route. So we signed up for a paper route, then promptly went to the Humane Society where we adopted our beloved cat Ricky. The night before we started delivering papers, we got our route assignment—and it was the exact same route that Adam used to have, so I knew it well. For over a year, Monty and I got up at five o’ clock every morning, brought the stacks of papers inside that had been delivered to us, and sat down on our living room floor to roll the papers, put rubber bands around them, and put them in the carrying bag. Ricky loved it when we were doing this—he’d steal our rubber bands, claw at our papers, and make a fort out of the bag.
Monty and I would load the car up with all of the papers and drive to the first house on our route, then park and walk up and down the streets for blocks, delivering papers. The paper had a policy that we were supposed to deliver the papers to people’s porches—not their driveways or somewhere on their front lawn. (or up in a tree, as I found out.) One of the streets on our route was so short that Monty and I would split up, and I’d deliver to one side while he delivered to the other. I once tossed a paper onto a porch and it bounced into the bushes up against the house, under some windows. Without thinking, I ran into the bushes to find the paper. When I found it, I stood up and looked straight into the eyes of a very old lady, peering out the window. We stared at each other for a minute, and then, as if in slow motion, she opened her mouth and started screaming. A man who must have been her son came stumbling out of the house dressed only in boxers, trying to figure out what the problem was. Monty came running across the street to tell the man who we were and what had happened, and the man, scratching his head of hair that was sticking up all over, went back inside. I never went near anyone’s windows after that.
When Monty got a new job with a higher salary, we reworked our budget and realized we no longer had to do our paper route. We also decided that we could afford to buy a house. My dream house was on a street called Circle Drive—I had loved that house the whole time I was growing up because it had a bay window, which I thought was so beautiful, and it was right down the street from Mom and Dad. Monty and I walked past that house countless times, me dreaming of having a bay window, and Monty dreaming about having a similarly big back yard for a garden. The owners put it up for sale right when Monty and I were thinking about buying a house, so we went to an open house to look at it. The house was a tiny bungalow, which we loved, but because it was in such a desirable neighborhood, it cost about ten times more than we could afford. So we put that dream on the back burner, hoping we could buy that house someday in the future.
Twenty years later, we moved here—to this little town. When we first came here to find a house to buy, there were only three in town for sale. One was a bungalow built over a hundred years ago. It had a bay window, a big backyard, and it was located right down the street from my parents. It was almost identical to the Circle Drive house we had once dreamed of—so we chose that house to purchase. The other morning, I was standing at the bay window, holding Seamus and watching the snow fall lazily while finches ate out of our birdfeeder. And I realized that God had given Monty and me exactly what we had dreamed of so many years ago: our own version of the Circle Drive house, with my parents down the street and Adam around the corner. God loves me so deeply and is so intimately acquainted with my heart that He gave me a bay window—something that would seem silly and inconsequential to anyone else. He loves Monty so much that He gave him a huge backyard for his garden.
What has God given you that has meaning only for you? Maybe it’s something that would seem small to others, but it’s a desire of your heart— and only God, because He knows your heart and loves you so deeply, would give it to you. I’m reminded of the song that says, “Oh, how He loves you! Oh, how He loves me! Oh, how He loves you and me.” The God who created the entire universe loves me. And He loves you. How could our hearts not thrill to such love and, with every beat, want to praise Him?
“We know how much God loves us,
and we have put our trust in his love.
God is love, and all who live in love live in God,
and God lives in them.”
1 John 4:16
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Thank you Renee. Without Debbie in my life, no idea where I would be today. Your Blogs never cease to an enjoyment, your perspective. on life, so to speak is Beautiful.
Klara, ever since we became FB friends, my amazement about you never ceases to grow. You are Rock Solid.
Harold, thank you–however I am not rock solid, it is the Rock I stand on that keeps me grounded and solid, alone I would have washed to the sea long ago. That said, God has given me a solid personality and I can be like a rock, only because he has given me a certain type of character and that does disturb some people. I am reminded that at one point I was compared to ” a dog with its bone”, which insulted me until I came to understand that it means that once I decide upon something or believe in it, I will not let go and fight until the bitter end for what is right. So in that sense the person who called me that was right.
Thank you to both of you–my wise and caring friends!
Wow, what a reminder of provision. When I came to Canada I ended up living in the most desirable place in Vancouver, the downtown core called the West End. it was also considered adult orientated and gay orientated. When I had my first child, all I could get was a basement suite as I had a child. Later I married and had another child. It was a beautiful suite but had lots of issues because of undesirable people including peeping toms, people sleeping next to the walls, men flashing and break ins. It was were I started my political work on schools and as I learned more and became more involved I decided that that we needed to move when oldest child became 12 so she could go to a more safe High school. I had also just become a Christian. my husband refused to move but I insisted. A friend suggested I pray, but I was worried God would not be pleased as after all I already had a home? Anyway I prayed once and 2 days later there was an add in a local paper for 2 suites in a federally owned co-op. Being familiar with the concept, I applied and was accepted. As co-op’s are very desirably due to subsidies and lower rental costs ( no overhead as the people run the co-op and participate in all aspects), they usually never advertise, there are long waiting lists. This was the first and last time they ever advertised??
I forged ahead, husband refusing to pay the down deposit of $2000 which my mom then supplied and we moved. About 6 weeks later after settling the indoors to some degree, I started on my balcony and as I looked up to above the roofs being on the 3rd floor I noticed something. There , high above the roofs were two round small towers with on one a big cross and on the other a tiny little cross–I knew immediately it was God who had provided this home and the crosses which held me for so many years. Shortly after all hell broke lose as my husband became more abusive and I became more and more ill. My husband ended up leaving, refusing to pay a penny, took the car, closed the bank account and so on.
Because of co-op policy I was given a subsidy, which meant I could stay in this home, I was given a long term disability and I was able to afford the rent. Not only that, but being housebound and unable to move as such due to the loss of most of my muscles, I was always safe up on the 3rd floor and so were my children. The basement suite would have been a disaster for all of us. So many of those most desperate days when no one thought I would survive and the doctors and endless specialists were so puzzled to my condition, I was able to sit where I could observe those 2 crosses and hold on to the fact that there was a God an that I was hoping he would save me so I could continue to raise my children as I had no other family close by. I asked God to give me till I was 60 so my youngest would be 21? And if not, to provide someone to take care of them. Today I am 68 and still living here, just moved to a smaller apartment within the building—-and have a bay window–also along time dream of mine! With the cost of living in one of the most expensive cities in North America these days, surely God is still providing me with safe and affordable housing on my budget. I can still leave my doors and windows open and never worry about peeping toms, undesirable people or break ins. One prayer and so many incredible answers in that one prayer. He knew I was going to be ill, He knew my husbands hardened heart, He knew the needs of my children and He knew I needed to learn a great many things. I never questioned the why’s of my illness although I went through the valley of the shadow of death, He also knew that was the one psalm I had sung when young before I left him. I was the psalm I used as I was baptised. My emphasis is ” The Lord IS my Shepherd and I shall not BE in want. Amen.
Klara–I will never have enough words to tell you what’s in my heart after reading this. You are one of the wisest, most courageous women I have the privilege to know. Your story would be amazing even without the spiritual element–but how much deeper it is when you factor in the goodness of our God. I’m so very sorry for the pain in your journey, but glad it led you to this place. I love what you wrote: “one prayer and so many incredible answers in that one prayer.” What a loving and faithful God! I especially love the crosses you were able to see; what a special gift to you from God. And you are a special gift to me, dear Klara. You have added so much to this post. Thank you for sharing your story.
Renee, this is about a tenth of all of the story, but you get the drift. It was because of my choice to become baptised that the evil one let out all of his fury on me and no one should be baptized without being warned of the cost. It was after my baptism my real spiritual battle started and it has never stopped. Ephesians is the best book to get ready for combat and become the soldiers we must be, both n the defense and on the offense and that will never change as long as we live. When we forge ahead though, we must remember that the war is already over as in the last book in the bible. Jesus sits on his horse and does no engage in the battle, He just observes as the battle was won when he died for us, end of story, We just need to hold on to God’s promise of delivery being saved by grace and grace alone. And no, still ain’t no saint, but simply trusting it is all true!
Klara–you might not be a saint, but you are God’s gift to me in your wisdom and your journey. I love what you said about not being a rock but standing on a rock. That truly resonates with me tonight. I will stop short of calling you St. Klara, but I do see such loving qualities in you–you have such a sense of right and wrong. In that sense, yes–you are like a dog with a bone!
Renee, another Beautiful Blog. Brought back my memories of my first paper route. Maybe age 11 or 12.early a.m. deliveries, NY Times, NY Daily News. My front handles bar, supported the “mighty”:newspaper s@ck. Sunday’s, two trips, because Sunday papers very thick, wit(hAds. A good portion of route, suddenly sidewalk and street repair. Yikes! Rough bicycle navigation, but my Dad came through. For a short period of time, we What a Dad. Fast forward, wanting to get our first home, not enough income..Early morning newspaper route, to the rescue. But, no more Bicycle, now Automobile Driven, New Mercury Cougar, white interior. “Bedsheets” to the rescue. We got the house, new modest 3 B/R. Thinking back on this, I have a smile, my love for my Dad, then getting a home. Your video, What a Good God You have been. Yes, God has been good to me. Having taken some “wrong turns”, in my life, God Has Blessed me with Debbie, my wife. We have been married almost 40 years, two beautiful children. Debbie has been, and still is My Rock. Thank You God, You have brought Debbie in to my life. She is the “one person, not a thung”, I have wanted and needed in my Adult Life. Again, Renee thank you for helping did deep, and to express thoughts about My Greatest Treasure, Debbie. God Bless You, Renee.
Harold–you reminded me of how we used to dread the Sunday papers! Those were, as you said, a two trip deal. How amazing that you, too, used a paper route to help finance your home. It’s beautiful that you call Debbie your treasure. I admire your marriage and your love for each other. Thank you for sharing your memories of God’s goodness.