3 a.m. text

As I laid in bed that night I said a silent prayer for my neighbor.  I knew she was up against some serious marital struggles, although I never knew the magnitude until my phone went off at 3 a.m.  It was one of those out of body experiences being jolted by a noise in the middle of the night.  I turned on my light and read the text silently, as I read, "Emmett was shot, by paralegals husband. Don't know how I'm going to tell my babies. Please pray for me."  My heart raced, I clutched my chest and started sobbing.  By then my husband was wide-awake wondering whether my water had broke or something terrible had happened.  I confirmed the later, and he held me as he whispered a prayer in my ear.  I quickly raced out of bed and forced myself into my "a little too tight" maternity clothes.  I remember silently kissing my husband and waddling down the sidewalk in the eerie chilly morning, "thanking God for a husband who loves me, who prays for me, who understands when I need to be a friend" and in the same thought wondering "How in the world am I suppose to support my friend who hurts so bad with something I have never experienced!!!!!?"  The last thing she will want is some friend who seems to have the "perfect marriage" to sit and tell her how sorry she was.  I prayed, "Lord give me strength.  Show me what to do.  Show me how to help. Let me be an instrument in thy hands."

I knocked at the door half trembling because of cold and over anxious jitters, hoping to meet a family member, the door opened, and there she was, still as beautiful as ever, with smudged make up and slightly swollen eyes.  I walked thru the door and into her arms and she held me as I wept.  I repeated over and over again, "I am so sorry."  How could she be standing as I leaned on her?  She invited me in to her family room where her family sat trying to console each other through humor.  We quoted movies and shows and sat and rehashed the nights’ events.  A half hour later Ashlee got up and walked out of the room and fell down on the living room floor, alone in the dark.  I sat by her, rubbing her back as Ali sat in front of her, talking her through her tears.

I felt out of place but didn't want to leave her.  She had family, I had a family I needed to take care of, yet I stayed on.  I don't know why but I hate standing still, maybe its my long family line of ADD, but I got up and got lotion and said "Alright which can I massage first, hands or feet?" At first she fought the idea of a nine-month pregnant woman massaging her feet but soon relented.  "How did you know that is my love language?"  I didn't; the thing is I had known Ash only a year and not very well.  As I sat and rubbed her hands and feet she slowly relaxed, even made a joke or two.  Then it was 6am, an hour before the kids would awake and family had just arrived from Twin Falls.  Ashlee needed food; Tytus would need milk.  I became her water pusher.  Anytime she wasn't talking I'd have her drink.  I made eggs and pancakes with other family members and made her sit and eat.  I did dishes as she sat down with her kids to break the news.  Then friends from our church started filing in.  I sat down and planned babysitting for the next week, laundresses were lined out, hot meals were dated, people were assigned to come and clean.  One thing I love about 

Ashlee is she is not too proud to let others in to serve.  She leaned on us, gave us a purpose to help her survive.  People from all over asked how they could help; our wise Bishop, leader of our congregation, said in response, "Ask the Lord and then go forward with faith."

                                                       

The Lord laid out all that needed to be done right in front of me, because I asked.  I didn't stop and stutter and ask the Lord why should I rub her feet?  Or why should I have her over for dinner?  I simply knocked and the door opened with all the opportunities He needed me to answer.  Now I am just as fallen as every other human being who has walked this earth.  I do not profess to be better than anyone.  We are all worthy to be His hands, all we need to do is ask.  One day it may be bread to a neighbor or a hello to a stranger or maybe letter to an old friend.  If we ask He will give us those opportunities.   

The Lord is waiting to enrich our lives, strengthen relationships, for us to live outside ourselves and learn the real reason for this life.  We are here to become like Christ.  He set the way and gave His example for us to lean on and follow.   The lepers, the lame, the deaf, the blind, those found in adultery, the rich, the poor, the publicans, children and many disciples leaned on the Savior.  He let them in.  

Many leaned on Christ as a friend, a leader, and a comfort.  He healed them through words and deeds.  He does today!  His words speak to us in the scriptures, and in our thoughts. He is the one that teaches us to serve others and be there when a friend needs to lean on our shoulder.   If we allow Him, he can mold us into the person He sees us as.  Everyone who left the Savior's presences was lifted up or was taught how to better improve.  That is a true friend.  One who listens to all your venting, and knows when to rescue you with a coconut cake or tell you that you're acting like a complete moron.  Be that friend.  Be what your Brother has taught you to be.  He loves you, always will.  Help Him do his work; be His hands.

                          
***This was written with Ashlee's approval.  To see more of her work go to The Moments We Stand.