I didn’t have a plan.
I had two envelopes, each holding (a certain amount) in cash, and a small handwritten note tucked inside. No name. No explanation. Just a quiet intention: give this to a stranger and walk away.
The idea didn’t start with me, though.
An influencer I genuinely love, Chalene Johnson, has shared a tradition her family does every year: each person gives out ten envelopes, each with a note and a gift inside. It’s become a family tradition for them, and when I heard her talk about it, something in me lit up. Not because of the money… but because of the spirit of it: intentional generosity, simple and direct, with no strings attached.
I wanted to do it too.
But I also wanted to give an amount that felt meaningful to me; so I started small: two envelopes. I can always work up to more later.
What I didn’t have was a destination.
I live in a very nice area, and at first I found myself overthinking everything. Where do I go? Who do I give it to? What if I choose wrong? I didn’t want to judge people, and I didn’t want to turn this into a mental game of who deserved it most. I just wanted to find someone, hand it to them, and walk away. I didn’t feel super hot today nor did I really want to leave the comfort of my home, but I did it anyway….looking not so fine, but who cares! It’s not for me anyway.
So I drove.
I stopped for gas first. Nothing hit me there. No clarity. No nudge. Just me, sitting in the car, waiting.
Then the thought came so clearly it almost surprised me: the library!
Years ago, when I was a single mom, I went there often with Tatum. The library felt like a refuge back then safe and free.
Inside, I walked around….looking for well, something!
I approached one mom and asked if the little girl with her was her daughter. She smiled and said no; she was just the sitter. I kept walking.
Then I saw another mom. She had three kids with her. She was standing at a kiosk with a boy I assumed was her son. I asked her gently if he was hers. She looked up.
We made eye contact.
That was it.
I handed her the envelope, smiled, and said simply,
“This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Oh… thank you!” she said.
And I turned around and walked out.
The moment I stepped outside, my body reacted before my mind could catch up. Goosebumps. Sweating. A rush of emotion so strong it felt electric.
I knew exactly what it was.
The Holy Spirit!
Boy that felt so amazing. Who’s next!?
I don’t know the woman’s story. I don’t know what that $100 meant to her. I don’t need to. That part isn’t mine.
But what I do know is this: sometimes the holiest moments don’t happen in church.
Sometimes they happen in a library… with an envelope…