Were it not for my offering envelopes, I'd never have met my wife.
Difficult as it may be to believe, I was not a big tithe giver. In fact, at the time we met, I had perhaps the lowest income level of my life, and probably also the lowest income of any of her other suitors at that point. Granted, it was possibly the most expendable income I've ever had at any time in my life on this Earth, but that hardly meant I had a great deal of money with which to impress her. In fact, if she would have known how gross my net was at that time, she'd likely have gone looking for greener pastures, despite my dashing good looks and world-class musical talents. (There's a reason for those jokes. 'How do you get a musician off your porch? Pay him for the pizza!' The sad part of this sidebar - I did work in a pizza delivery restaurant at the time.)
It Is Not About Money
My offering envelopes did not contain anything particularly appealing in the way of income disclosure. So how did they manage to help me captivate the attention of the raven-haired beauty with chocolate eyes and caramel skin just a few seats down the pew? Ironically enough, it was precisely because they didn't contain money. They did, however, contain precious inches of blank space - empty white paper, which made for columns upon columns of notes which detailed my fascination with her, despite the fact that I hardly knew her.
Love On A Three by Five Space
Even at the tender young age of fifteen, I fancied myself a writer. Each Sunday, I perfected the art of carefully disassembling envelopes 'just so' along the seams, unfolding them into something roughly one-third the size of a standard sheet of paper, and upon all of that beautiful blank space I composed poetry, love notes, jokes, anything that might hold her attention. To my good fortune, I often found my offerings floating back up the pew, adorned with the looped inscriptions of the siren from down the way. Thankfully they never made their way into any of the offering plates. That would have been hard to explain away.
That was a couple decades ago. The exotic beauty I once admired from afar is as you romantics would have hoped, my wife. In a box, hidden in the rear of her top dresser drawer, are still the heart-throb unfolded envelopes - a reminder of how a cocky, geeky kid managed to slip into her heart; a courtship scribbled on holy paper.
Difficult as it may be to believe, I was not a big tithe giver. In fact, at the time we met, I had perhaps the lowest income level of my life, and probably also the lowest income of any of her other suitors at that point. Granted, it was possibly the most expendable income I've ever had at any time in my life on this Earth, but that hardly meant I had a great deal of money with which to impress her. In fact, if she would have known how gross my net was at that time, she'd likely have gone looking for greener pastures, despite my dashing good looks and world-class musical talents. (There's a reason for those jokes. 'How do you get a musician off your porch? Pay him for the pizza!' The sad part of this sidebar - I did work in a pizza delivery restaurant at the time.)
It Is Not About Money
Love On A Three by Five Space
Even at the tender young age of fifteen, I fancied myself a writer. Each Sunday, I perfected the art of carefully disassembling envelopes 'just so' along the seams, unfolding them into something roughly one-third the size of a standard sheet of paper, and upon all of that beautiful blank space I composed poetry, love notes, jokes, anything that might hold her attention. To my good fortune, I often found my offerings floating back up the pew, adorned with the looped inscriptions of the siren from down the way. Thankfully they never made their way into any of the offering plates. That would have been hard to explain away.
That was a couple decades ago. The exotic beauty I once admired from afar is as you romantics would have hoped, my wife. In a box, hidden in the rear of her top dresser drawer, are still the heart-throb unfolded envelopes - a reminder of how a cocky, geeky kid managed to slip into her heart; a courtship scribbled on holy paper.
About the Author:
There is love, there is puppy love, and then there is church offering supplies love. Our romance began on the inside of a simple paper from the pocket of the pew in front of me. Most any quality online Christian store carries the paper itself, whether used for tithes and offerings, or to further a writer's career. Three by five envelopes bring the tithes, or seeds of budding romance into God's House. Favour & Blessing!