"No, no, I'll be fine," I said to Rhonda, a fellow parishioner and mom who, years ago, cleaned my house for extra cash. She'd called to set a day to come clean that week, but I suggested we wait, finally admitting that I'd be busy with medical testing ordered by an oncologist.
"Do you have someone to go with you?" she asked. "I'll go with you."
What? No. I didn't need someone to go with me. There was nothing wrong. I just needed some tests. My husband, a traveling salesperson, would be out-of-town, but I was okay with that. I was used to that. My independent nature shuddered at the thought of someone accompanying me. Especially someone, like Rhonda, who I hardly knew.
"Really," I said. "I'll be fine."
But she didn't quit. We talked a little more, about the kids, about our upcoming schedules, but the conversation wove around to the same thing:
"Wouldn't you like for me to go with you tomorrow," she repeated. "What time do you need to be there?"
"9 a.m.," I said.
Rhonda thought for a moment. "I could come by and get you right after I drive my kids to school," she said.
Again, I declined.
"No, you don't need to do that," I said. I could handle this on my own. Having someone else come just seemed so unnecessary. "I'll be fine."
Suddenly, from deep within, a message arose. The words were clear and distinct. I heard them as if someone were speaking them to me: This is the way God helps you. If you refuse the help, you are the fool.
"Are you sure," Rhonda asked. "I'd be happy to help you."
The haunting message suddenly caused me to reconsider. If you refuse the help...
"Well, maybe," I said. "Maybe it would be nice if you could bring me. Do you mind, really?"
Rhonda arrived early the next morning, drove me to the hospital and settled in with a magazine for the long wait after they called me back.
I had no idea what I was in for, but God knew.
Thank God Rhonda was there. Stay tuned for next Monday's post to find out why..
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