Pampered Chef Parties made me nervous.
Mostly because I was the one selling it. 

I’d cook in front of groups of women twice my age who had been using Pampered Chef since I was in elementary school and try to act like I knew what I was doing. I did love the products, but apart from the ones I already had I wasn’t super knowledgeable and hated when people asked questions about warranties and microwave safety.

Last April a girl named Amanda contacted me to throw a party. I agreed, and then found out the next day my membership had expired. I had to rejoin to keep my word, so there was thirty dollars gone. I hoped this party was worth it.

Morning of, I carefully packed all my gear, reading and rereading the recipe to make sure I had the correct tools. I hefted three heavy bags into the backseat of my car, chatted with my neighbor Simon for a minute, and then edged out onto the street, Google Maps telling me I should arrive in about twenty minutes.

I reached the end of the block by the historic Cedar Street Baptist Church and saw something maroon in my peripheral vision. The next thing I knew, a big impact slammed into the back rear passenger side. I’d been hit.

The other driver immediately admitted fault, saying he’d missed the stop sign, and a police officer came to issue an official accident report. My back door was completely dented in, and it looked as though he’d possibly hit my back wheel.

I called a friend to come, nervously drove my injured vehicle back around the block and parked it, and transferred all my Pampered Chef swag into his car. Not one thing had been broken, even though there was a glass mixing bowl and stoneware baking pan inside. The bag had been right up against the door that was hit, but the impact had merely sent it flying to the other side. Everything was intact.

I got a ride to and from the party, and even though my arm ached a bit I made Chipotle Chicken Nacho Dip like a pro and sold a lot of cookware. I think people bought more because they felt sorry for me.

Two long weeks of insurance calls followed. There was some muddy water because the man who’d hit me wasn’t the owner of the vehicle. He’d borrowed it from a friend. Finally a claims adjuster came out. He was a congenial older  man with fluffy white hair, and I chatted with him for awhile. He told me his wife loved Pampered Chef and I gave him a catalog, secretly hoping she wouldn’t call me. He did a thorough evaluation and then gave me the news. My car, even though I’d embarrassingly been driving it to and from work since I didn’t get a rental car, was declared “Totalled.” 

He had to send all the paperwork to the insurance company and they’d get back to me with a number.

I was anxious. My dad guessed I might get three hundred dollars for my car, since it was a well-loved 2003 Mitsubishi Galant. I had Kelly Blue Booked it and it said for my mileage in “good” condition it might be worth 2,300. I guessed maybe “good” was an over-estimation, but the mileage wasn’t bad!

My mom and her prayer group were praying for everything to.work out, and I even asked my friend Brandon to pray specifically for at least 2,300 dollars, but I wasn’t hopeful and I really didn’t want a car payment again.

Monday morning, I got the phone call. If I gave them the car, I would get 2,700. If I kept it, they’d give me 2,540. Yippee! I did a victory dance around my living room and called my friends to tell them how good God is.

I kept the car, got a seventy dollar door from the junkyard, and have been driving with no problems for almost a year. Plus, I made two hundred dollars from the Pampered Chef Party. I guess that thirty dollars to rejoin was well worth it.

I let my membership run out again, and that was my last party. I guess I went out with a bang. <insert groan here>

God really does work all things together for our good.

Prayer: For us to be emptied of our own selfish ambitions so that our focus is on God’s kingdom and not our own, starting with me!

*Complete, miraculous healing for J.