3d (edited) • General discussion
The Anonymous Box
This year, I felt nudged to share a story from long ago—a moment that reminded me how heaven moves even when nothing seems to be happening.
Before any of this, Christian and I had already experienced that kind of kindness ourselves. When he was just eighteen months old, someone anonymously left groceries at our little studio apartment. We had mattresses on the floor, almost no food, and were doing our best to stretch every dollar. That unexpected gift carried us through a very thin season and left a mark on both of us—a reminder that generosity often arrives quietly, but powerfully.
Back then, Christian and I knew several families at a local Christian school who were struggling as the holidays approached. We decided to help—and I shared a short story I had received about a woman who had been abandoned at a gas station with her three little kids. She sat in her car crying, unsure of what to do next. A man approached her and filled her tank. The gas station attendant told the owner what had happened, and together they bought Christmas presents for the children. They even offered her a job and opened a small room in the back of the station as a safe place for her to stay. That simple act of compassion felt like a spark we could pass forward.
So Christian and I wrapped up what we called “The Anonymous Box,” complete with his tiny painted handprints, and placed it at the back of our church to collect food for Thanksgiving. Three weeks passed… and the box stayed empty. I couldn’t understand it. I felt sure God wanted to meet these needs, yet nothing was coming in.
One morning, after wrestling with frustration and disappointment, I prayed, released the anger, and chose to trust anyway.
That same afternoon, everything shifted.
The Walmart distribution center called. One of their drivers had heard me mention the need and quietly shared it with others. They wanted to help—really help. They asked for every family’s name, including parents and children, and committed to providing full Thanksgiving meals and Christmas gifts.
When distribution day came, Christian and I pulled into the parking lot to see a semi-truck waiting for us, the driver dressed in a Santa suit, ready to follow us house to house. In the warehouse behind him were piles of gifts and food—every single name adopted by the drivers’ families.
At each home, little faces peeked through windows, some families with very little furniture, some with empty refrigerators. One home had just a tiny tree and a rocking chair. At another, a father broke down in tears as we brought in the gifts—his wife had given birth two days earlier, the same week he had lost his job.
Miracle after miracle unfolded that day.
And what no one knew was that Christian and I needed one too. Our own home had no tree yet, no presents, and no Thanksgiving dinner. Our truck had been repossessed, and Rick had found an old beater just to keep us going. Christian had even drawn pictures of presents and taped them under our “tree space.”
But as we finished deliveries that night, the leaders from the Christian school surprised us with a full Thanksgiving meal and a Christmas tree—unexpected provision for our little family as well.
It was one of those seasons that reminded me: even when the box looks empty, heaven is already moving behind the scenes.
May your home be filled with peace, your heart with renewed hope, and your holidays with the quiet assurance that you are never forgotten and never without provision. Merry Christmas and blessings to you and yours. Stephanie Anderson https://www.facebook.com/christianmichaelunlimited
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The Anonymous Box
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