Sudden panic jolted my heart. No matter how I divided my income for the month, I realized I didn't have enough to pay my bills. The queasiness in my stomach didn't help matters either. I slumped down and leaned my head against the desk chair and closed my eyes.
Nikolas's emergency surgery on his forearm I obviously had not anticipated. How could a "simple" broken arm from playing basketball turn into a seven-day hospital ordeal and surgery? Worry had woven its sticky web around my heart.
A loud knock on my kitchen door bolted me upright. Through the window, I saw a neighbor boy. I opened the door and asked impatiently, "What's wrong?"
"There's a dead bird in your flower garden," he exclaimed. "He hit your living room window!"
Amid the begonias lay a tiny brown sparrow. I picked it up. I marveled how warm this little sparrow felt, and I felt overwhelmed with emotion.
"Mrs. Schiller," the boy quietly asked, "are you okay?"
"Yes," I replied, "God even takes care of little sparrows."
The boy scratched his head and walked away.
I went to the back of the house, leaned against the wall, slid down, and sat on the grass. No longer able to contain what I felt, I burst into tears. As I cried, God in his unending faithfulness brought Matthew 10:29-31 to my mind:
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."1