Whenever I Call for Help

My parents had just gotten home from their weekend trip to visit my brother David and his family in Pennsylvania when I rushed down the driveway towards them.

"Here," I said to my dad as I swept by him and deposited Shav inside the door of their home.  "Can you watch Shav for me?  Can I use your car?  Can I have your keys?  I've got to get Josiah and David to Vacation Bible School, and..." my voice trailed off, "I'll tell you the rest later!"

What happened was this:  Jeff had used my keys this afternoon to get into my parents' house to make some copies on Dad's old copy machine, and he had slipped my keys into his pocket and not given them a second thought.  I didn't think about it either...not when Jeff returned to our house...not when he said goodbye several hours later and, taking Tobin, left for a Bible study he was teaching...not until I was getting ready to take Josiah and David to VBS.  Then I looked for my keys, could not find them, and guessed instantly what had happened.  My heart sank.  A zillion thoughts raced through my head:

Could we walk to VBS?  No.

Would talking to the Shanks, our next-door neighbors, help?  No.  Even though they would do anything for us, they're Old Order Mennonites; and even if they wouldn't mind hitching up their horse and buggy to take the boys, there was no way we could get there on time.  ;-)

Were our other neighbors home?  No, didn't look like it.

Was there someone else I could call?  The Sacras, perhaps?  No.  Even if they were home and could help, we don't live close enough to make it worthwhile for them to come take the boys.

Should I call Jeff and interrupt him in the middle of the lesson he was teaching?  No.  It's not like he could have done anything to help at that point either.

What am I going to do???

Proof that God cares about the tiniest details of our lives:  my parents arrived home and didn't mind my hurried sputtering (lack of) explanation about what was going on.  Dad accepted the care of Shav and handed over his car keys without a single word of complaint.  He's like that, you know.  Whenever I call for help, he's there.

Today, on this Father's Day, I say "Thank you, Dad."

I also say, "Look at these funny pictures!"  :)

July 1974...I wasn't born yet, but in this picture are my parents and three siblings, along with my dad's parents and his three siblings and their respective children.  I don't know what the occasion was, but I'm sure it was a joy to have them all together.

I'm not sure of this date on this one, but I'm guessing it was sometime later in 1974 or early 1975; it was taken by the front door of my grandparents' house.

Finally, I'm alive!  This was in 1981; I was five.  I'm the shorty in the front row, second from the left.  My dad is wearing the tie behind me.

Taking a quick jump through time to June 7, 1997...

...which was a very good day.  :)

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One day this week, a boy wearing a baseball glove knocked on my front door.  "Do you know your goat is stuck in your fence?" he said politely before trotting back across several lawns to reach his own backyard.

Why, no!  As a matter of fact, I did NOT know that!

My heart sank.  A zillion thoughts raced through my head:

Should I go into the pasture to try to help the goat?  No!  Look where she's stuck--right in the corner with the tallest grass and brushiest brush.  I'm sure there is probably a snake there, and we all know how I feel about snakes!  (2008's story - 2009's story - 2010's story - no 2011 story yet, thank goodness!)

But maybe I should do it anyway.  No!  Trying to free the goat, when she resists my help and probably will try to kick me and the three dogs will be barking and jumping on me, etc.--I don't think I can do it.

But maybe if I went on the other side of the fence and tried to unhook her horns and push her head through that way--maybe that would work.  No!  I really don't think I'm strong enough.

But maybe I should do it anyway.  Well...maybe...I'd better grab some gloves and put on boots (to protect, you know, against s-n-a-k-e-s...and maybe ticks, too).  But let me call Jeff at the barber shop first!

Ring-ring-ring.  

Jeff:  "Hello?"

Me:  "The goat's stuck in the fence!"

Jeff:  "Hmmm..."

Me:  "Should I try to free her?"

Jeff:  "No, it's a little dangerous."

Me (in my head):  "I'm SO glad he said that!"  :)

Jeff:  "Let me see...I have a little break here before the next appointment.  I'll come home and take care of it."

Me:  "Thank you, thank you, thank you!  You're the best!"

So he came home, rescued the goat...

...kissed us all, and went back to work.

MY HERO.

He's also the man who said recently, "Where's the instruction manual for your camera?  You said it hasn't been working.  I'd like to try to fix it."  A little while later, "Here's your camera.  It works now!"
Me:  "How'd you do it?"
Him:  "Well, I took off the lens and cleaned the..." (something or other...my brain is programmed so that whenever any technical jargon enters my ear canal, it instantly evaporates so that I can never remember it again).
Me:  "Wow.  Thanks!"

Did I mention he's MY HERO?

Today, on this Father's Day, I say, "Thank you, Jeff."

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I guess it's no surprise that both of these men are quick to help whenever I call; after all, they both strive to model their life after Jesus.  You couldn't ask for a better example...

The Lord is near to all who call on him.

Psalm 145:18

Today, on this Father's Day, I say, "Thank you, God!"