🥲 Over a year ago, when I was utterly shattered, crushed by the weight of losing my husband, not a single elder or church leader from my church visited me. Not one. Yet, a couple—Don and Pat, who had no fancy titles or church positions—came to my home twice, to pray for me. Pat, herself battling a chronic illness, was always tethered to an oxygen tank, yet she still gave of herself selflessly.
👉 After those visits, we lost touch. Don left me a brief message once, letting me know they were thinking of me, but I never returned the call.
🥲 🥲 This morning, it all hit me again—the sorrow so deep it felt like I was drowning. Tears, the only words I could offer, flowed uncontrollably as I sat down to write the chapter of my book about my husband’s death. The pain was unbearable.
đź“ŤThen, unexpectedly, the phone rang.
❤️ It was Don.
In disbelief, I picked up. Don and Pat called to check on me and see how I was holding up. The timing of that call—right in my moment of despair—felt like a divine intervention.
Lord, if I doubt You, You send Don and Pat right when I need it most to remind me that I’m not alone.