卡伦·马约里·加里森/Karen Majoris Garrison
It bad been the worst snowstorm in ten years, and I’d been caught in it. After hearing earlier that it was supposed to snow later in the night, I had volunteered at our church to take groceries and medical prescriptions to elderly members in need. Since my husband was away on business, I called my mother and she immediately came over to my house to watch my three-year-old daughter, Abigail.
“Can’t someone else help those people?”she had asked me, concerned for my safety.“I have a bad feeling about this, and it looks like it might snow at any minute.”
I glanced out the window and had to admit that the sky looked threatening. I began to feel uncertain.
“Mama will be okay,”my daughter smiled, taking her grandmother’s hand.“She likes helping people. Besides, I’ll be praying for her!”
My heart swelled at her words. We had such a close relationship that sometimes when I breathed, it was as though Abigail exhaled. I decided then that I had to act on what I’d been instilling in my daughter:that sometimes we just have to step out in faith and believe that God will keep us safe. Kissing my mother and daughter good-bye, I set out to make my rounds. On my last stop, the snow began to fall.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”Bill Watkins, a ninety-twoyear-old member of our congregation, scolded. He coughed, trying to get out of bed, but the effort proved too taxing. Giving up, he settled back on-to the pillows.“I told the pastor that I didn’t expect anyone to come to the boonies for me.”
“Nonsense.”I grinned, positioning snacks and drinks by his bed. Beneath his gruff exterior, Bill was sweet as candy. His heart medication had to be taken every day, and living on a modest income without any surviving family members, he needed as much help as possible.
“Well, look what your stubbornness brought you.”he said, pointing to the snow-covered road outside the window. His fingers clasped my hand.“Stay here, Karen. I want you safe.”