Sometime after 9 p.m., as I was reading stories on the sofa to a sniffling, cold-suffering Keillor, I heard a knock at the door. At first, I thought it was Shawn, Kellen, Kerrick and Kennah returning from a day trip to Tucson. But when I looked through the peephole, I didn’t see any people—just bags and boxes piled outside the door. Curious, and cautious, I opened the door to find enough groceries to feed a multitude—everything from meat and potatoes to melons and pasta to the biggest cans of tomato sauce I’ve ever seen, and enough packets of Goldfish crackers to satisfy snacking kids for ages. What a surprise! As Keillor and I brought everything into the kitchen, we asked ourselves two questions:

1. Who? (Although I have several guesses, I can’t be sure who’s responsible—and I’m sure that’s quite the point. I haven’t written about it here, yet, or shared it with many people outside of our extended family, but Shawn’s been looking for a full-time job since a layoff in January. Our budget’s been pretty tight, but God’s provision has been timely and amazing to see.)

2. How? (For as much stuff as there was piled outside, we didn’t hear a sound—not even the rustling of plastic bags or the thud of heavy cans of food hitting the ground.)

Whoever you are, you’re good! And I mean that in every sense of the word. Tucked into one of the boxes was a simple note that read, “God bless you!” And the Hemmings Half Dozen would like to say, “Right back at ya!” (Now, if anyone has any recipes that call for such things as a 6-pound, 9-ounce can of diced carrots and peas, please share!)