It was almost midnight when my wife, Melody, said, “I don’t know what to make of this, but for the past hour Paulette’s been on my mind. Since we have no way to reach her, I’ve been praying for her.”
Paulette and her husband had lived with us for a few months the previous year when they would have been homeless. Then they moved to Arizona; it had been many months since we heard from them. They had no phone and we didn’t know their address.
About a half hour later our telephone rang. It was Paulette, desperate. She was at the airport. Her abusive husband had kicked her out and put her on a plane, even though she was seven months pregnant.
“We’ll come get you,” I answered. “You can spend the night with us.” Once I had hung up I asked Melody, “Should we invite her to stay here until she can find her own place?”
Under normal circumstances our answer would have been an easy yes, but I was out of work. For five months, in answer to prayer, God had met our family’s basic needs, but with little to spare. Did we dare take in someone else?
As Melody and I wavered, something—maybe the late hour—reminded me of Jesus’ parable of the friend at midnight (Luke 11:5-13). In the story, a man whose cupboard was bare took in a friend, knowing he could ask his neighbor for help.
During the five months that Paulette and, eventually, her child stayed with us, no one in our family drew a steady paycheck. Often we had to ask our “Rich Neighbor” for help.
Always he came through with bread for our family. And, of course, for our friend who came at midnight.
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