Whispers In The quiet &  A Box Of Sox Ministry

—Spring Lynn Booth

A Vow Spoken

Whispers in the Quiet

God is always listening. And in a moment when I spoke to Him the way a child vents to her closest friend, I opened my mouth in haste and anger—and learned the covenantal cost of a vow spoken before a sovereign God, who is just in His rewards and faithful to those who keep their word.

Scripture does not treat words as harmless or vows as symbolic. From the beginning, God reveals Himself as a covenant-keeping God—One who speaks, remembers, and remains faithful to what His lips have uttered. As He spoke life into existence with His words.  Because we are made in His image, our words also carry weight, especially when they are spoken before Him. As Heaven is listening. 

The Word of God warns us plainly:

“When you make a vow to God, do not delay to fulfill it. He has no pleasure in fools. It is better not to vow than to vow and not fulfill it.”
— Ecclesiastes 5:4–5

This is not written to instill fear, but to teach reverence. A vow made to God is not an emotional outburst that fades when feelings pass. It is a covenantal act. Once spoken, it is heard—and it waits.

Scripture reinforces this truth again with unmistakable clarity:

“If a person makes a vow to the Lord or swears an oath to bind themselves by a pledge, they must not break their word. They must do according to all that proceeds out of their mouth.”
— Numbers 30:2

The tongue is not neutral ground. It is capable of creating life or inviting destruction.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”
— Proverbs 18:21

Words spoken in haste still count.
Words spoken in anger still bind.
And words spoken before God are never forgotten.

This is why Scripture describes the righteous person not as one who never errs, but as one who remains faithful even when obedience becomes costly:

“…the one who keeps an oath even when it hurts.”
— Psalm 15:4

Sometimes obedience looks loud and public.
But more often, obedience can be asked for in restraint.

It looks like silence when speaking would be easier.
It looks like waiting when explaining would feel justified.
It looks like trusting God with timing rather than demanding release.

“It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”
— Lamentations 3:26

Jesus Himself affirmed that our words are accounted for—not because God is eager to condemn, but because He honors truth and covenant.

“Everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken.”
— Matthew 12:36–37

This is the soil in which quiet obedience grows.
Not performance.
Not recognition.
But faithfulness carried patiently over time.

What follows is not a lesson.
It is my testimony.

A Box of Socks

When I was approximately fourteen or fifteen years old, I became friends with a foreign exchange student attending Golden West High School in Visalia, California. I no longer recall her name. I believe she may have been German, as I was enrolled in a German literature class at the time, though she also may have been Russian. Much time has passed.

It was the holiday season, and she was preparing to return home. Her stay in the United States was brief, limited by the terms of her visa. Because it was Christmas break, I asked her what she might want as a gift—something I could send her once she returned home.

She thanked me, then gently explained why sending her an elaborate gift would be inappropriate. Her parents were poor, she said, and in her country everyday necessities were extremely expensive. Milk cost twelve dollars. Toothpaste cost seven. Shampoo and household items were costly. Families often did not exchange gifts because meeting basic needs came first. Instead, they baked bread or cake, made small handmade items, and told stories together.

I hugged her and told her I understood.

But after she returned home, I could not shake what she had shared with me.

I still wanted to give her something—without dishonoring her or shaming her family. After careful thought and prayer, I decided to purchase the everyday necessities her family would normally have to buy, so they could save that money and use it for Christmas.

I took every dollar I had saved that year from babysitting—about two hundred dollars—and bought laundry soap, dish soap, bath soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, toilet paper, razors, and household cleaners that would not combust in shipping. I carefully packaged each item.

Still, I wanted something just for her.

So I bought a small wooden box from a hobby store, decorated it with beads, and filled it with every kind of socks I could find—striped socks, polka-dotted socks, socks with toes, all kinds. I included a note explaining that I hoped this gift would help bridge the gap between need and celebration, and I thanked her for being my friend across the miles.

It cost more to mail that box than it did to purchase the contents.

The day after Christmas, she called me in tears. Because I had sent the necessities her family would have needed to purchase, they were able to save money and use it for Christmas. She told me it was the best Christmas her family had ever had. She also told me how much she loved the socks, especially because it was very cold where she lived.

My heart swelled.

I wanted to tell my family what God had done with that small gift. But no one wanted to hear it. After trying for days, I became angry, went to my room, and in that moment spoke a vow to God: that I would never tell the story until someone bought me a box of socks.

Immediately, the Holy Spirit spoke my name,  —“Spring, be careful to do what you have spoken, for you have just made a vow unto the Lord God.”

I repented at once, knowing I had spoken out of anger—but I also knew I must keep the vow.

And I did.

For fifteen years.

Every holiday, every birthday, when asked what I wanted, I answered, “A box of socks.” No one ever asked why. No one ever bought them.

Then, one Mother’s Day, a family from church took my sons to buy me a gift. When asked what I wanted, they said, “A box of socks.” Though Sister Daniels doubted them, my sons insisted.

That evening, after dinner, I was handed an unremarkable brown box. When I opened it and saw the socks, I wept. When I finally composed myself, I looked at my sons and said, “You remembered.”

Then I told the story.

For the first time in fifteen years, I was released to speak. I told the Christmas story on Mother’s Day. And when I finished, a little boy in the room—born to great wealth—said quietly, “I want a box of socks.”

In that moment, the spirit of charity passed on.

That was the day God placed A Box of Socks Ministry in my heart—not a church, but a bridge-the-gap ministry to help others hear His whisper and encounter His love.

And i had kept my vow to Father God and fullfilled it.

With A Humble Heart

I am reminded that the vow we speak is sacred and that our words hold life or death and we must be carful of the words we speak. I am filled with great sadness in my heart as i know i have said things i cant take back. Knowing there is a heavy price i will one day pay for those hasty unholy moments,
i have indeed spoken of in anger…

i pray that my Lord God forgive me Amen!

The Old Testament reminds us:
“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”
(Psalm 51:10)

The New testament tells us:
“Everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken.”
— Matthew 12:36–37


From my quiet heart to yours, may you hear His whisper…
— Spring Lynn Booth


http://whispers-in-the-quiet.org
Email: Hopeministries2010@yahoo.com
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