The Envelope With No Name

Watching fireworks with my kids tonight got me thinking about a different kind of the Fourth from a few years back that I've never told anyone outside my family. I was in a bad stretch financially, behind on rent in Asheville, and I remember praying that night, plainly, just asking to be shown what to do. An envelope showed up at my door the next morning with exactly what I owed and no name on it. I never found out who left it, and I've stopped needing to know. It felt less like a person's decision and more like an answer.