Moving my youngest daughter Allyson into her new apartment these past few days has brought back many “moving memories.”
One particular memory almost overtook me as I stared over the sea of boxes in Ally’s new apartment. I experienced a similar scene seven years ago as I packed up our home in Fort Worth, Texas, and prepared to move back to our hometown in Southern Indiana. Intense hopelessness and overwhelming fear came over me that day in 2006. In just two days, we had to turn the keys over to the new owners of the home we’d lived in for eight years, and we were not even close to being ready. The kitchen cabinets were still full of pots, pans and cookbooks, and I hadn’t even begun to pack my home office. Time was running out and my energy was running low.
Plus, my emotions were raw. My mother had passed away the day before our Texas home had sold for full asking price, so I was operating on auto pilot. I had just begun to grieve, and now I was being asked to pack up all of my memories and do it quickly. I didn’t think I would survive the week.
Though my husband and then-tween daughters were wonderful during that time, it was my sisters in Christ who pulled me through. Too tired and too proud to ask for help, I tried to pack the whole house and clean it thoroughly by myself. Seeing my desperation, my oldest daughter, Abby, told her best friend’s mom, Nina, about my plight and asked her to pray for me. Nina did more than pray–she rallied the troops, which included my sweet neighbor Melanie, and they all showed up at my front door.
“I’m here to help,” Nina said, smiling. “Put me to work.”
They all worked tirelessly for two straight days. They packed. They cleaned. They bought us dinner. And, when I found a card my mom had sent me for my birthday the previous year while cleaning out my desk drawer, Nina hugged me while I had a much-needed cry.
I learned two lessons that day. First, I learned we should never be too proud to ask for help because God didn’t intend for us to go it alone. And secondly, I learned we should look for opportunities to show kindness to the people in our lives.
I thanked my “precious packers” numerous times over the course of those two days, and I even called Nina to thank her again once we were settled in Indiana. When I did, she simply responded, “We were glad to help, Michelle. It was really no big deal.” She was wrong–it was a very big deal. It was such a big deal that almost eight years later, I am still in awe of the kindness they showed me that week when I desperately needed it. My prayer today is, Lord let me be a big deal in somebody’s life today. I hope you’ll join me in this prayer.
