By Melody Vanosdol
God is always faithful. I’m still working on it.
It’s interesting the facts that you remember. One Saturday evening in January of ‘24, I let the dog out to potty. It was 21 degrees Fahrenheit and daylight. I noted that because Sparky was a small dog with very little fur on his legs. I didn’t want him to be out too long.
While he was out, I was cleaning up my tarp from transplanting a fern in our sunroom. My husband came in vacuuming, bumping into my feet each time he came forward and catching the tarp. It was odd. I did not see him vacuum often. I kept asking him to wait while I folded the tarp and got out of the way. He wouldn’t. The constant hitting of my feet hurt.
I admit, I did finally wad up the tarp and thrust it at him saying, “Fine, you fold it.” No part of me believes that was the best way to handle that.
Lifting the vacuum, he struck me in the legs. It didn’t hurt as much as it sent me into a panic attack. Now, I did not yet know that these were panic attacks. This was only the third one I’d ever had. (Praise God, it would be the last.) But as I lunged for my desk chair, I did not make it. I landed face down on the floor. I could not move. The pain in the base of my spine and the base of my skull was explosive. Every muscle quivered. No muscle would obey. I couldn’t move any part of my body.
Terrified, I laid there. Soon, I heard the vacuum several rooms away. I didn’t try to make sense of it. I was just relieved he was gone.
Then Sparky began to bark to come in. I tried to move. Nothing. Not even my hands would obey. My leg muscles only quivered.
The only prayer I could come up with was, “help.” That prayer was not out loud. It wasn’t even loud in my mind. It was: small, quiet, broken.
He came back in with the vacuum. With each swipe of the vacuum, he bumped into my legs. Then he disappeared again.
Sparky began to bark again. The sun had gone down. I registered the dark and reregistered the 21 degrees. I tried harder to move. Nothing. The muscles just quivered. My body would not obey me.
At some point, my husband, the same husband who tripped over the edges of throw rugs, walked through the room, stepped over my legs, let the dog in, stepped over my legs again, and went back to the main part of the house. Sometime later, he came in, stood there for a moment, turned out the light, and closed the door.
For years, I had been praying, asking the Lord what he wanted me to do. I had been in regular counseling with our pastor. I had been immersing myself in God’s Word. I wouldn’t leave without God saying “go.” Since the violent incident in front of my grandchildren the previous November (you can read about it here), I had been incredibly torn. I honestly thought the violent outbursts might be because of the brain injury he had sustained in an accident. But God was using this night to teach me otherwise.
After he turned out the light and shut the door, my heart rate started calming. As I lay there, it came: “You can go now.” And I could move my fingers.
It took a little while for me to be able to move well enough to get up. When I did, I sat in the desk chair that I had aimed for some five hours earlier and documented everything to my daughter and best friend.
God moved in ways I could not have imagined.
It does not matter how dire your circumstances get. God will never leave you alone. It does not matter how weak your cry for help is. He hears you. It does not matter how desperately you cling to the hem of his garment; he has you.
Trust him. Trust is faith. Sometimes trust is simply just continuing to breathe, pray, and read or listen to His Word.
For a long time, my prayer life was simply:
“Lord, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what you have planned. But I trust you. I need your guidance. I know I’m not always good at listening. And sometimes I just can’t hear. But I want to follow you. The truth is, I need more than just guidance. I need strength and courage. Sometimes, this is hard. Really hard. And sometimes, I’m tired. Very tired. You know me, Lord. No one knows me better. Please, help me. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.”
If I’m being really honest, my circumstances have changed, but this prayer still suits me perfectly. His thoughts and His ways are always better.
God is always faithful. I’m still working on it.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8-9).
“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2).
“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will clever you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” (Psalm 91:1-2).
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