Nancy Moser

Nancy Moser is the award-winning author of over twenty inspirational novels. Her genres include contemporary stories including John 3:16 and Time Lottery, and historical novels of real women-of-history including Just Jane (Jane Austen) and Washington's Lady (Martha Washington). Her newest historical novel is Masquerade. Nancy and her husband Mark live in the Midwest. She’s earned a degree in architecture, traveled extensively in Europe, and has performed in numerous theaters, symphonies, and choirs. She gives Sister Circle Seminars around the country, helping women identify their gifts as they celebrate their sisterhood. She is a fan of anything antique—humans included. Find out more at and

The Blessing Habit

Whoever invokes a blessing in the land
will do so by the God of truth.

Isaiah 65:16 (NIV)

The lines at the check-out lanes were three deep. I jockeyed for position, craning my neck toward the next aisle to see if the people in line were waiting to buy a bottle of shampoo and a birthday card or were standing behind a cart heaped with Tupperware, disposable diapers, and a year’s supply of chip dips, wing dings, and sugar wees.

Apparently, there was a run on Tupperware, disposable diapers, and sugar wees.

It didn’t look good. I took a deep breath, glanced over my own cart and chastised myself. He who is without sin, cast the first…

My cart was full to overflowing. I never can go to the local discount store without filling my cart with white socks, batteries, kitty litter, toilet paper…

I turned into the nearest lane and prepared to let my mind drift into la-la land—that place I visit while waiting in heavy traffic, drive-though lanes, and those return counters where it takes forty-five minutes to return the coffee maker that doesn’t like to make coffee.

The gates of la-la land opened. I felt my eyes glaze. My breathing began its descent into catatonia—

“Is this coloring book for you?”

I cleared my head and looked toward the voice, hoping it wasn’t talking to me.

A little toddler two carts ahead, clutching a new box of jumbo crayons, nodded at the clerk, her face full of pride.

“Cinderella’s my favorite, too,” said the clerk, a woman who barely came to my shoulders. “I used to make her dress a different color on every page.”

The little girl handed over the box of crayons. The mother paid. Then the clerk put the coloring book and crayons into a separate sack from the mother’s purchases and handed it to the little girl. The toddler beamed as if she’d been granted her biggest wish.

I banished la-la land and turned my attention to the clerk as she handled the next person in line. A smile. A personal word. Instead of being bored by the wait, I found myself looking forward to my time as the recipient of the clerk’s kind attention.

Finally, it was my turn.

“Cats are wonderful creatures, aren’t they?” she said, pulling my giant-sized bag of kitty litter over the scanner. Thus began our short discussion as to the attributes of the feline persuasion.

When I paid with my credit card, the clerk took a moment to look at the name and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Moser. Have a great day.”

I looked at her name tag, a little embarrassed I hadn’t taken the time to notice her name. “You too, Ivy.”

As I loaded the kitty litter into the trunk of my car, I found myself smiling. But the smile wasn’t mine. It belonged to Ivy.

When I got into the car, three words forced themselves out of my mouth, “Bless her, Lord.” I hadn’t planned to say the words; I didn’t foresee their birth. But they surfaced from deep inside me; unbidden, yet utterly sincere. I glanced back at the store and could imagine the hand of God soaring out of heaven to pat Ivy on the shoulder. And I felt blessed.

That was the beginning of a new habit. The blessing habit. It often happens with the same suddenness as it did the first time. I’ll see a child waiting for the school bus; I’ll notice a lone golfer practicing his swing; I’ll spot a fellow driver rubbing his or her forehead; I’ll see an elderly man reading the newspaper at the library, the paper raised to within inches of his face—and those three special words will appear in my consciousness.

“Bless them, Lord.”

And I know He does. And I know it makes a difference. To them—and to me.


Nancy Moser