It’s the middle of the night. I’m sitting up in my hospital room feeding my little chap. It’s quiet on the ward. It’s quieter outside. And it’s easy to feel alone and overwhelmed. For one who likes to ‘keep calm and carry on” I feel like I’ve lost the ability to do both. I press into God for strength, for grace, for help. I am reminded that God’s answer and provision often lies in drawing people around us to provide us strength when we have little left. The family that surround with visits, prayers and home help and turn up with hot coffees. The care packages to nourish my soul. Encouraging notes and emails. The baking left at the front door. The praying Aunties and the kindred friend with her gift of happy socks, because “sometimes putting ‘happy’ on your feet helps you walk with a bit more bounce and a lot more colour.”
We are never alone. Never abandoned by God. Never let down by Him.
I am reminded too that we often don’t realise that in what do, sometimes seemingly small, we can be ones that give strength to another.
“When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. ” (Exodus 17:12)