Help When You Need It Most

When my brother was born I was 10 years old. I remember the day he came home from the hospital just like it was yesterday. I got home from school and walked into the bedroom to find him crying. My mom was laying down and asked me to get him a bottle. I learned quickly how to mix formula and feed and burp a baby. My mother is a wonderful woman and a great friend but she has never been all that great at parenting. My brother almost immediately became my responsibility. In fact, over the next two to three years many things would become my responsibility. This burden was only eased by the fact that at any given time I could call my grandpa and cry to him and he would whisk me away for a bit of relaxation and fun. He always made things better.

My grandfather was a strong tower in my family. He truly did hold us all together. He picked up the tab when we had no money. He took an interest in our school work and taught us about the world around us. He took us on trips, paid for our school clothes and supplies, took us to the dentist and doctor, and cared for us when our hearts were broken. He bought me my first car. He took me in at 15 when I could no longer bear to live with my parents. He paid for me to go to college. Grandpa drove me and my babies home from the hospital after I had given birth. He helped with things around the house when my former spouse wasn’t around. He made sure that we were okay spiritually. He always knew just what to say….then he got sick.

Suddenly the tables turned. It was now me who was taking care of him. I brought him to the doctor several times a week for check-ups and chemotherapy. I was picking up his medicine and tending to his needs. I helped him to eat. I wrote out all of his bills and handled his affairs. I read the bible and Max Lucado to him day after day. When he could no longer speak, I spoke for him. I took care of my grandma in her depressed state. And day after day I walked in this responsibility believing that my grandpa would one day get well and take back the reigns… but he never did.

The hardest part came when he lay on his deathbed and the hospice nurse told us we had merely minutes before my grandfather would pass away. My dad suggested that we pray and so we all took each other’s hand and stood there. I waited for someone to say something, for someone to begin praying. After a moment or so I felt the hand to my right grip mine tightly and let go. I looked up only to see all eyes on me. “What?” I thought. “They want me to pray?”

At that moment I realized that unconsciously my family had passed the reigns on to me. It skipped my grandma and my dad and went straight to me. I began to get nauseous and started to sweat. I opened my mouth and the words just wouldn’t come out. I tried to reach down and find something from deep within but nothing came. I opened my eyes to see my grandfather in a coma and gasping for air. I couldn’t take it anymore! I couldn’t do this! My body tensed up and I started to cry. Then I heard the voices of those around me hushing me and telling me that I needed to be strong and all I could think was, “but who is gonna be strong for me?”

My knees gave out and I started to fall and on the way down the only words I could mutter were, “God, help me!”

My knees strengthened and I regained my composure. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and words just started to bellow from the depth of my heart. I still don’t know what I prayed except that only moments after I was done I watched my grandfather take his last breath and I remember saying, “Thank you so much God for welcoming him into your arms.” That experience, watching him pass from this world to heaven, was just as miraculous as watching the birth of my children. It was beautiful. I can’t even begin to describe it. God’s hand was there…

Mark 1:31a
So he went to her, took her hand and helped her up

I wish that I could tell you that day was the last time my knees gave way and I began to fall to the ground only able to say, “God, help me” but it wasn’t. It was the first of many. But I am excited to say that each time it has happened God’s hand has been there to help me up. At any given time I can call on God and cry to Him and He will whisk me away for a bit of relaxation and fun. He always makes things better. He is my strong tower. He holds us all together. I passed the reigns on to Him and now He is the one who is strong for me.

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