'M WRITING ABOUT SOMETHING VERY private. It's sort of like an elephant in the living room; everybody knows it's there, but nobody talks about it. I'm writing about money.

A Child's Wish
When I was a little girl I wanted a horse. Whenever my birthday came, or Christmas, I asked for one. But my parents always said, "We can't afford it." So I began saving my money. If Mother and Father couldn't afford it, I'd just get it myself.

Finally I had saved $75. I went to my parents and asked if I could have a horse. I could afford to buy one, but they said, "We don't have a place to keep it." We lived in Los Angeles, and our backyard was paved with cement.

I was terribly disappointed, but I just had to have a horse. Finally my grandmother told me about a man who had a place to keep a horse. He also had one for sale. It was only a small one, but that didn't matter. It would grow. When I went to see the man, I found out that in addition to buying the horse, I had to pay to keep it at his place, $10 a month. And I didn't even have a job.

I shuffled over to the hospital next door to where we lived to take a sandwich to my father, who was going to school there. On the way a woman called to me. "Elizabeth, wait just a minute. I need to talk to you. I need somebody to work here every other Sunday and deliver messages. We'll be able to pay you $11.50 a month."

"Let me ask my father!" I said. I ran to my dad. The next day we went to see my new horse. I had enough money to buy the horse, pay for pasture, and pay tithe.

Grown-up Needs
There were times it didn't look as if God was paying attention to my financial situation. I was working as a physical therapist, and business began to go sour. My work was no longer full-time.

"God," I said, "business isn't going too well. I'm not taking home a very big paycheck. I'm single, and I should be bringing home a lot more money than I am. Don't you think it's time for me to be earning more?"

God didn't speak out loud, but it's as if He said, "Do you need anything, Elizabeth?"

"Well, no," I answered. A little later I came back to God with the same sad story about how I should be earning more money.

Again God said, "Do you need anything, Elizabeth?"

Again I said, "Well, no."

It happened again. But this time when God said, "Do you need anything?" I answered, "Well, yes. My car is rusting out, and I need a new one."

Within a week my boss called me into his office and said, "Elizabeth, the business isn't doing well. You're going to need to find another job."

I gulped. Now I wouldn't be earning any money. About that time there was an opening at the local Seventh-day Adventist hospital, and I took it. My first paycheck showed me that my salary had doubled. I was able to get another car.

On and On
My story is supposed to stop here. But it doesn't. My life began to fall apart again. My dad died, my grandmother died, the dog died, the horses died, and the man I was in love with married somebody else.

The good part of this sad story was that I was no longer tied to the area. I decided to see the country as a traveling physical therapist. My first assignment was back in a hollow near Bluefield, Virginia. The hospital was antique, but the people were wonderful. My first paycheck once again indicated that my pay had doubled.

But the company I was working for turned out to be less than ethical. So I severed my connection with it. This put me back to zero income again. It doesn't take much to double that. The good news was that I had some added marketable skills I hadn't had before, so I decided to start my own physical therapy practice. There was a lot I didn't know; the learning curve was sharp.

I'd wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. What if this thing doesn't work? What if I lose my shirt? What if one of my therapists turns psychotic and hurts someone?

Living back in the coal-mining hills of Virginia was a delightful southern gentleman. McCann was the oldest of eight children and had started helping to support his family when he was only 10. By the time I met him, he owned the Ford franchise in Tazewell, Virginia. He also had the Mercedes franchise. He owned his own Lear jet and had his own private pilot. He owned most of the commercial buildings in town.

When I started my company, I went to see McCann. I began telling him all the what-ifs.

"'Lizbeth," he interrupted, "I'm not going to let you starve."

I blinked. If this country gentleman in Tazewell, Virginia, could say, "'Lizbeth, I'm not going to let you starve," how much more sure I could be that my heavenly Father wouldn't let me starve!

Heart and Soul
About this time I fell in love (not with McCann). One evening as we snuggled on the couch at his home in West Palm Beach, talking "what if I married you?" stuff, I said, "You need to know how I spend my money. I earmark 10 percent of my income for the church."

His eyes widened.

"And I dedicate another 10 percent to benevolent projects, such as mission work and keeping my sister's kids in a Christian school," I continued.

He gasped.

"Besides that, the Bible says that if your brother is in need, ‘open your hand wide' [Deut. 15:8, NKJV]. So I don't want to limit myself to 20 percent if the need becomes evident."

"You mean you give away your money?" he shouted as he stomped to the fireplace and back. "You give it away? That's irresponsible, just irresponsible!"

"Well," I said calmly. "This is the way it is."

Monday morning he took me to the West Palm Beach airport. I wondered if he had decided that I was too expensive for him. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day about the way you handle your money," he said. "I've decided that as long as it's your money I won't worry about it."

I'm supposed to tell you that we got married and I doubled my income again. Well, you know better. You don't double your income when you marry a man who thinks it's irresponsible to open your hand wide when you see someone in need.

Making Ends Meet
When you start a new business the gross income can be pretty good, but the cash flow can be a real problem. "When goods increase, they increase who eat them" (Eccl. 5:11, NKJV).

My problem was how to collect money. I could get a collection agency to do it—and give them a third of the take—or I could go out myself and do it. God and I talked it over.

"God," I said, "I'll make You a deal: You can be my collection agency, and I'll give that third of the collections to You."

I'm not proud to tell you what happened next. I started thinking, Maybe I made a mistake bargaining with God about how I'd give Him a salary if He collects money for me. I thought about it and said: "God, I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not. You have the power to make all my collectings difficult.

Then I got embarrassed about thinking this after everything He'd already done throughout my lifetime. "Elizabeth," He said, "I'm your Father."

So God and I started collecting receivables.

Traveling Medical Professionals (TMP) was created to fill a need for an ethical traveling physical/occupational therapy company. One of the unique differences between TMP and the competition was the compassion factor. But how does one "compassionately" collect lagging payables from a hard-nosed, heavyweight Fortune 500 corporation?

I wondered how Jesus would collect money. So I asked God. He gave me an adviser, the owner of one of the oldest businesses in my hometown. As we were having lunch he told me his mode of operation. "When someone owes money I make a personal visit. I knock on the door and say, ‘I'm Alfred Senter from Senter's Department Store, and you know why I'm here.' They pay."

That sounded genteel enough, so I took on my first case. I hopped a plane to Atlanta. I was escorted into an office furnished with thick rugs and fine furniture. Following Mr. Senter's plan, I presented the owner with my business card and said, "I'm Elizabeth Boyd with Traveling Medical Professionals," and presented the statement of his account.

At first he said he didn't owe anything. When he saw that he did, he offered to pay the next week. "I'm unable to leave until I receive payment," I said.

He talked about his business, his wife, and his children, then offered partial payment. "That isn't satisfactory," I said. "The check must be made out now, and I must take it with me."

At length he wrote out the check for the entire amount. How I praised God for helping meet the payroll again that week.

Next was a rehab facility that smelled of stale cigarette smoke and urine. The floors were bare and the personnel grumpy. There had been no positive response from the president or controller. The receptionist was rude and completely blocked any communication with the individuals I needed to contact.

Fortunately, the facility was only a five-hour drive from our corporate headquarters. I packed my camper and headed south. The receptionist actually allowed me to speak with the president, who assured me we would receive payment. Unfortunately, there was no money in the bank to pay vendors at this time.

"Fine," I said. "I brought my camper, and I'm prepared to stay until I can take the check with me."

The secretary to the president ordered me out of the building, but there was a parking lot just outside the president's window, adjacent to his reserved parking space. Three days later my office notified me I could pick up the check at the company's switchboard.

Not all collection visits turn out that way. When I stopped to collect payment from a small business owner in California, he said simply, "I'm not going to pay, so sue me." I decided it would be counterproductive to sue for only $10,000.

A growing company in southern California used our services and failed to pay. Again the Lord coached me for a collection.

When I was led into the office a man named Steve shouted, "Leave my office!" He got up from his chair and stomped to the other side of his desk and towered above my chair. "Get out!" he shouted, adding a string of four-letter words.

I leaned back in my chair, not knowing what else to do.

Steve walked back to his chair. He opened his desk drawer and took out his checkbook. "I don't know why I'm doing this," he said with a little chuckle. "A few minutes ago I was getting ready to throw you out of my office."

As I left his office something said to me, "Send him a book about Jesus." So I sent him the book He Taught Love, by Ellen White. I met with Steve three more times, and each time I took him another book about God. The last time I saw him he took my hand as he handed me the check and said, "I'm a committed Christian now."

I should stop right now and let you think that all you have to do is give God a third of your income and you will be rich for the rest of your life. But you and I know better.

Times are hard right now. But when I go to God and say, "Don't you think I should be earning more money?" He just says, "Elizabeth, do you need anything?"

And I say, "No, not really."

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Elizabeth Boyd is the retired founder/owner of Traveling Medical Professionals, Inc. A local elder, she lives in Harpswell, Maine, and enjoys horses, entertaining, and music.