On Easter Sunday, my husband had a stroke.
At the time, we didn’t even realize it was a stroke. We just knew something was off. So while he rested, I went to church and preached the message he had prepared. I came home afterward and took him to the ER—and from that moment on, we wouldn’t leave the hospital for over a week.
The next day, Monday, I was still in my Easter outfit when they moved Steve to the ICU. I quickly went home to shower and grab a change of clothes.
That’s when I realized—it was supposed to be laundry day.
We had hardly anything clean.
And the last thing I wanted to do in that moment was wash clothes.
All I wanted was to get back to Steve. That’s where I needed to be.
I sat there for a moment, overwhelmed.
Then I did something that’s hard for me:
I asked for help.
I texted a group of our close friends:
“I really just want to return to the hospital, but I don’t have comfortable clothes washed.
I don’t want to wash clothes.
Is there any way someone can bring me something so I can get back to Steve?”
Within minutes, they responded.
Friends showed up with cozy clothes, sweats, and T-shirts—enough for the whole week.
Later that week, another woman from our church showed up at our house with her mom.
They washed all of our dirty laundry.
They cleaned our home.
They didn’t ask for anything.
They just… loved us.
And I cried.
I couldn’t pay them back.
I didn’t have anything to offer in return.
But they didn’t come for that. They came to carry the weight with us.
Sometimes, love looks like preaching when your world is spinning.
Sometimes, it’s in the courage to say, “I can’t do this alone.”
Sometimes, it’s a stranger folding your towels.
But every time, it’s Jesus in disguise.
No comments:
Post a Comment