It was on a Monday morning when a crisis broke out at the front door. There was a mother yelling out demands regarding the custody of her children. I knew the day was going to be full; I had so much office work to do. Mondays are just like that here.
A taxi drove up in front of the building. An older man, with glasses perched on the end of his nose, about 6’5”, 300 pounds, in a bright fuchsia polo shirt, brown shorts, dress socks up to his knees, and brown dress shoes, stood in front of me. He carried a small brown leather hand bag. My guard was visibly uncomfortable. “Hi,” the stranger announced. “I’m Ziggy. I’ve come to see what it is you do at Gentle Hands.” I invited him in. I had no idea who this person was. I had received a few emails over the past weeks asking about open house and visiting times but had given it little thought. Few people ever come when they say they will.
We sat down and he immediately asked pointed questions about money, our vision, and the children. As I answered each question, his eyes would fill up with tears. He talked about faith and believing God for provision through struggles. How he knew some of the things I was struggling with I did not know. But I know that I heard in my spirit, “be careful to entertain strangers.” I offered him to stay in one of our extra beds as he seemed harmless, and I had no predispositions. He cheerfully accepted and began opening up and talking a great amount over the next four days. He talked to the boys, to my caregivers, and to me. Not knowing our culture, he spoke many truths without fear or worry. He encouraged me greatly.
I couldn’t figure out who Ziggy was. He wouldn’t give me any information. The day before he was to leave, we were sitting at a table and spent countless hours talking. Though he did most of the talking, I listened intently. I was preoccupied as I was $1,000 short for payroll for the following Monday. “I have some money in my pocket for you,” Ziggy said. I looked at him and thought, “Lord?” I was hopeful that my money problem for payroll was going to be answered.
He explained he wanted me to do him a favor. He wanted me to have a “Ziggy party.” I couldn’t believe it. “A what?” I questioned. “You heard me,” he said looking over his glasses. I dropped my head in my hands. He smiled and waved his arms about. “With balloons, and streamers and a cake and celebration,” he said excitedly. I was far from excited. He obviously had not heard how I was struggling with operational expenses.
He looked over the top of his glasses, again, a look I had seen way too many times over the week. “Well?” He asked. “Okay, fine,” I said, somewhat upset with him and God. “I will.” I didn’t say I was disappointed, but somehow I think he knew.
The next morning, Ziggy got his bag and stood at my front door. “I’m off,” he announced. “I came with a purpose. I had some money looking for a home. And I’ve found where it belongs.” I looked at him, still recovering from my “Ziggy party” commitment the day before. “I’ll be sending $10,000 to start your building fund. You have vision. And you need to run with it. God’s got His hand in this place. Thanks for being so hospitable. I’ve left a piece of my heart here.” And he left.
I don’t know who he was or where he came from, but a week later he wired $11,000 dollars to our account: $10,000 for the building and $1,000 for the party. Many of his words still echo in my heart. Extraordinary results need extraordinary faith. Trust God since these are His orphans, not yours. I sent him an email a few days later. “Ziggy?” I wrote. “Were you real?” Several days passed and I recieved a reply. Maybe angels have internet.
Evan and Charity Graff
Gentle Hands
Project Number 0650225
© 2008 Church of God World Missions
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