Going the extra mile: instrument in Lord's hand

It was one of those days. Too much month left over at the end of the money, but we would be fine. My main worry was for my mother. She was 82, and her fighting spirit was still coping with the upkeep of her three-bedroom home and garden, her frail body weakened by chronic bronchitis.

I was offering a quick prayer to Heavenly Father to look after her this day when the phone rang. It was "Mum," in great distress. She could scarcely breathe. The bronchitis had worsened, and she had phoned for the doctor to come, but she was frightened. I could not remember when I had ever known my mother to be frightened before. "I need you, my girl," she cried. "I want you to be here when the doctor comes. Please come."Then I cried. There was no way I could go to my mother to comfort her when she needed me. Her home was two bus rides away, and the buses didn't connect, and even if they did I had not money for buses, much less a taxi. In tears, we hung up our phones.

I prayed more fervently then, in my need to be with my mother and her need of me.

Within a few minutes, the doorbell rang. Wiping my tears I hurried to answer and saw my visiting teacher standing on the step. "Ann, can you help me?" I asked. Of course she could. We drove the miles to my mother's home and Ann stayed long enough to see that we were OK before she left. I knew that I was where I ought to be.

Ann's unexpected visit was a blessing. I had already received my message for the month, and Ann had no way of knowing my concerns and anguish of the morning. But my Heavenly Father knew. Before my mother's phone call and before I had to tell her I couldn't come, a sensitive visiting teacher had been moved to make an extra visit, without knowing the reason why. She was a heaven-sent instrument in the Lord's hand.

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