God Is With Us

As I cleaned up my kitchen yesterday morning, I lit the taper candles on my table in memory of Grandma. A while later, Shiloh asked if she could blow them out. I said yes because we needed to leave the house soon. My back was turned as I fried eggs for our late breakfast. She yelled, "Ow. Ow!" I turned and saw that her hair was on fire. I've never felt such an extreme rush of adrenaline. In a second, I beat out the flame with my hand and held her so tight. We both sobbed. 

I called Chad and asked him to come home. Within thirty seconds of hanging up with Chad, a friend from church pulled into my driveway. When I saw her vehicle, a wave of relief washed over me. I wasn't alone. I met her at the door and cried, "Shiloh just burnt her hair." She came in and did all the things I couldn't think to do. She got the icepacks. She hugged me and said it will be okay. She helped me comb out Shiloh's hair. She was the literal hands and feet of Jesus. 

This friend drove twenty minutes out of her way to stop in at my house. She said she just felt God telling her that she needed to come. And in that moment, I knew that we are never ever alone. God is with us. In our grief. In our pain. In our need. He always sees. 

Shiloh is perfectly fine. She's going to have some awkward, frazzled bangs for the next few months. I'm calling them her angel hairs.