A Helping Hand from an Invisible God

Posted on September 28, 2009 12:00 AM MST by Tiffany Kinerson

Rob was gone, deployed to Kuwait for the past couple of months. My five month old was screaming again, tucked into the playpen, stashed in the walk-in closet so his 1 ½ year old roommate might get some real sleep. And I was outside on the patio plugging my ears. “God, technically I can do this.” The months until Rob’s return loomed before me like an oncoming storm with a funnel cloud flicking its tail from the base. I shook my head of the image. “I can do this. You created me as a pretty tough chick. Technically I’m not overwhelmed with my duties. I will begin each day with upturned lips. I will feed my sons. I will play with them. I will even look to their wants, maybe attempt the wrestling moves they miss from their daddy.” I unplugged my ears, listened for the ever-present wail from my son. Still there and quite healthy. I plugged them up again.

This is the point in which many a woman loses her mind.

My eyes closed, my mind sought a happy place, a time without disorder, without demanding cries from an eternally dissatisfied infant. Maybe I couldn’t do it. “I need some help, God. A physical warm body that can be present. I am lonely, and I am stressed out. I can’t eat without a heave in my stomach. Please. Send someone.” Spent of words, I stayed there a little longer. Pretended I lived in my head for a few more minutes. Just a little reprieve until I had to enter the lair of tears and wails that my house had become. Then I folded my legs beneath me and rose up. No matter what happened now, I would make it. One way or another God would shelter me in this storm, too. He knew my heart. I would continue on in strength if I pressed on just today, not concentrating on the distant, so distant finish line. My feet padded up the walkway. Just today, just today, I will do it.

A handful “just todays” later, Ashley, a college-aged girl from my church, approached. We were acquaintances, having talked together only within big groups of people. I knew her, but she couldn’t know much about me. Not really, anyway. But sometimes people can surprise you.

Pulling me from the crowd, she smiled. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy. But I was praying the other day, and your face filled my mind.” She glanced away, cleared her throat, then met my eyes again, a grin on her face. “God told me you needed my help.” She nodded, then rushed on. “Here’s the deal, I’m not in school right now and I live with my parents. All I have is my job at the coffeehouse. So I guess what I’m saying is I can come live with you, help you with the boys…for as little or as long as you need me.”

I nearly passed out there on the spot. My eyes had to have bugged out. I know for sure that tears sprang into them. “Are you kidding me? I prayed for you!”

“You did?” She clapped her hands. “Oh, I hoped that would be the case.”

I did—or I had—prayed. And Ashley came to live with us for the next month. She was such a blessing. With her as my back-up adult, I renewed my mind and spirit through seemingly simple avenues like ambling through the grocery store, idly studying the titles of nail polish and lipstick colors. I got to cook for a full house of people rather than just myself and a couple of little chicks who mainly preyed upon mashed food and crackers. But most of all, my mind and spirit were renewed by this one learned fact: God cares about the souls of His people. Physically I could have endured and beat my way through the entire deployment. Yes, He could have led the way for me one day at a time, step by step, until I rose from the tide of difficulties. But the reality of how He served me in this instance was a gift so much more than what I dreamed. He gave me hope and friendship, a helping hand from an invisible God.

In the depths of the pain, in the midst of the struggle, He was with me not just in spirit but in body, too. I give all praise to Him for that moment of rescue, and I give my thanks to Ashley for listening and acting when He called. This time in my life, in spite of the pain that led up to it, will always be a cherished memory in my life. 

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