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REBA SWIFT CARTER
 
Helping Hands
Help is on the Way -- little did I know when my husband Ken and I learned this song to sing as a church special how personal it would become to us.

After spending a month of fun in Arizona with our many friends, we found ourselves in a motel in Grants, New Mexico en route home on November 16, 2015. Answering the call of nature, I found myself on the tile floor, having passed out from a urinary tract infection. I had no clue about this problem.

Two helping hands, Ken and his sister Carolyn, rushed me to ER in this little town located on I-40 about 70 miles west of Albuquerque with lava rock and mountains as the landscape.

We traveled all day Monday through a snowstorm in the Santa Rosa area and arrived in Tucumcari at dusk and strong winds. I am now trying to navigate on crutches and a temporary cast with an ankle broken in three places.

Upon awakening Tuesday morning, more helping hands were waiting at our motel door as my nephew and wife came to help us on our journey home. I was busy on my cell phone calling my Marshall doctor, setting up an appointment for a visit with an orthopedic facility in Columbia and arranging my next pair of helping hands.

On Wednesday, November 18, my sister-in-law Shirley took me to Columbia and I came home with a scooter -- no more crutches which were more on an enemy to me than a friend!

Friday, November 20, found my niece Cindy taking me to Columbia for surgery. Yes, helping hands in the form of my pastor and a deacon got me down my five front steps at home.

Saturday, November 21, more capable hands arrived as my niece Linda and her husband Ron came for a week visit during the Thanksgiving holidays. I will not name the many chores they did for Ken and me during their stay such as running errands, grocery shopping, leaf raking and delicious meals prepared.

A week later, we find ourselves on our own and home alone with me scooting around on a scooter on thick carpet and trying to take care of our daily needs. The most loving and caring helping hands are the capable hands of Ken, my blind husband of 52 years, as he prepares our coffee, makes our bed and does other chores for me.

I cannot begin to list all the "helping hands" my Heavenly Father has sent through our front door bringing meals, running errands, grocery shopping, house cleaning and laundry to name a few, and just bringing cheer to us with a nice visit.

Reaping the benefits of all the helping hands coming my way has been almost overwhelming! I myself am a giver; but I am learning to be a receiver during this difficult time. I believe things happen for a reason and this will be a learning experience for me as I return to being a "helping hand" to others.

God sees the little sparrow that falls to the ground. How much more he sees and cares for you and me when we fall to the ground and he sends helping hands our way -- the right ones at the right time -- just when we need them.

So thankful, I am.
Reba Swift Carter -- December 2015
 
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