“Wait. When do you have to be out?”
My friend and I were sitting in my living room, and as she looked around, she was thinking she must have misheard me. My family had been living in our rental home for two years, and it was time to move on. We were scheduled to turn in the keys in just four days.
Not one thing had been packed. Not a book. Not a photo album. Not a single fork.
“You have help coming, right?”
I mumbled something about it all being fine and that we’d figure it out. We were moving just twenty minutes down the road and everything would be okay. I basically said everything but the one word I knew I needed to say—help.
Because we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, she knows me well. My protest went in one ear and out the other. Within the hour, she had lined up her husband and set aside Saturday to help us.
My friend spent countless hours over the next several days cleaning out bathroom drawers, pulling long-forgotten items from under beds, and battling giant dust bunnies behind the dryer…
Please click through to The Glorious Tableto continue reading about how accepting help with a move brought up all kinds of emotions but, most of all, pointed us back to Jesus.