Yes, Call the Doctor, the Plumber, the Lawyer . . . But
(Mark 16:12 KJV)
Two Mondays ago, literally as my blog about being swept away is posting (click here to catch up), I am being swept away . . .
In a flood.
Caused by a waterfall.
Inside my house.
At 2 AM.
What sounds like rain rushing down a rain spout in a heavy downpour wakes me.
Only it isn’t raining outside.
Instead, water is pouring out of my downstairs ceiling.
From an upstairs toilet.
Where a spontaneous middle-of-the-night-top-to-bottom crack has zipped down the tank.
Water is surging through the water line, trying to fill the tank, as fast as water is streaming out the crack.
Through the floor.
And out the ceiling below.
Niagara Falls.
And a flood.
In my living room.
The scene overwhelms me.
I feel so, so alone.
From out of nowhere, words from my preacher’s recent sermon start reverberating in my head.
Yes, call the doctor.
Yes, call the plumber.
Yes, call the lawyer.
Make the call you need to make.
But first . . .
talk to the Lord.
So I do.
I tell Him how alone I feel.
It’s the middle of the night.
I don’t know what to do.
Or even where to begin.
I add that while I appreciate His all powerfulness, right now I could really use some help with skin on.
Little do I realize that the one-verse-long story I’ve camped out in all week is about to make its way off the page and into my life.
After that he [Jesus] appeared in another form unto two of them,
as they walked.
Scholars believe these are probably, but not definitely, the same two who appear in a more detailed account in Luke 24.
But I appreciate Mark’s brevity.
Because his two can be anyone.
On any road.
Mark invites us to imagine we are one of the two.
To seize the promise that no matter where the road of today takes us, we are not alone.
And to recognize that sometimes, in proving His nearness, Jesus takes on a form we are not expecting.
Which is what happens . . .
After talking to the Lord, wrangling with the water line’s stuck shut-off valve, and sopping up water with 17 bath towels (yes, I counted them – please don’t judge me), I begin calling 24/7 water restoration companies.
One after another.
If a company doesn’t answer their phone in the middle of the night, are they really 24/7?
Five companies down the list I reach a real person.
In the tenderest voice imaginable he says, “If you’re sure the water is off, here’s what you need to do next . . . Take a deep breath.”
As his gentle kindness settles over and around me tears flow.
I don’t feel alone anymore.
Later, during regular business hours, the company’s sales manager calls to check on me.
Turns out I know him.
He sits several rows behind me in church and he’s a longtime friend of my dad.
“I promise,” he assures me, “we’re going to take good care of you.”
More tears.
Thank You, Jesus, for showing up with skin on.
In forms I wasn’t expecting.
Reminding me I am not alone.
Yes, call the doctor.
Yes, call the plumber.
Yes, call the lawyer.
Make the call you need to make.
But first . . .
talk to the Lord.
Words to live by.
See you in a couple weeks.
Love,
He is so ready to listen..more so than anyone else and we are so hesitant to call. That’s one thing about getting older that I love..my relationship with the one in charge of it All❤️
He really is! Getting older and being alone have both fueled the relationship on my end. I guess it takes some getting older to realize just how fragile we are.
Beautiful- you always meet me where I need you – with skin on ❤️
That’s about the nicest thing I’ve ever heard. Thank you, Susan.
I so needed this on September 8th … my husband is a 4 yr stroke survivor and I’m his 24/7 caregiver. On the 8th, I took him to see his PCP to confirm + hopefully get meds for what I felt very confident he had, Shingles … yes, it was confirmed + we got meds. Got him home and settled with something for pain. I knew he was hurting as he’s not a medicine taker unless it is something that he needs. Around 2AM I was headed to bed and as I pass the laundry room I hear, drip drip drip!! I open the door to find water standing in the floor and a steady drip from upstairs. At the time, all I could do was put my water pitcher under the drip and pray it didn’t get any worse before morning. SLO, his initials, hears me. Not fully awake he asks what’s going on. I tell him a very short version as he drifts back asleep. Then he calls my name again, asking if I prayed about the problem. I replied, sure did and I used my emergency direct line to Jesus! I realized a few minutes later, I had calmed down, SLO was back sleeping and the drip didn’t seem to be as loud. This was so beautifully written … just when I needed it. ♥️
What a beautiful story! In the midst of all of your struggles!!! In case no one has told you today, you are doing a great job caring for your husband and your home . . . and shining your Light.