revlanc@bellsouth.net

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and my mother and I were enjoying a cup of tea and some conversation. Her full-time job and my "newlywed status" did not allow us the time to visit as often, which made our times together even more deeply treasured. 

While the women were inside chatting, the men were out in the garage doing some kind of "man thing" to one of the cars. Every now and then we would peek out the window to check on them. We did a "head count" just to make sure they were all fine and accounted for, but otherwise left them alone. Over the years we had learned never to disturb men at work. 

We had just changed the topic of conversation when my husband appeared in the doorway. By the grimacing look of pain on his face and the tight grip he had on his thumb, I could see-without him saying a word-that he was hurting badly. 

Shuffling over to the kitchen sink, he stuck his hand under the running water either for pain relief or further investigation--of which one I was not certain. The only thing going through my mind (since this was the first time I had seen him hurt) was "my honey is hurting…what can I do to make him better?" 

I began to think about gathering towels, bandages, ice packs and even mentally preparing for our first trip together to the emergency room. ANYTHING for the man I loved. My mind was racing at the speed of light and panic was overtaking me. "Oh the plight of the newlywed," I mused silently. About that time, I "got a grip" and decided to go over and take a closer look at what we were dealing with. 

As I approached my husband, the color began to drain from his face. In what seemed like an instant, his knees began to buckle. Standing right behind him, I instinctively reached out to catch him before he hit the floor. Not a bad catch, one might have thought, as I stood there holding him up underneath his armpits. But about that time his head dropped forward and he smashed his mouth on the edge of the sink and bite right thru his lip. I screamed out in horror realizing that my attempt to help had only injured him further. 

My mother came in to see what all the commotion was and helped me drag my new husband over to the couch in the living room. We checked him out thoroughly, tended to his wounds and put ice on his hand and his mouth. By that time, I was feeling some pain of my own in the form of guilt. Sensing this my mother lovingly said to me, "It's better to let them fall and then pick them up." 

The statement immediately stuck in my mind. It was obviously true as my husband incurred an additional injury (that was perhaps even more painful then the initial one) from my attempt to catch him before the fall. Needless to say, he recovered from it and I learned a valuable lesson. It's one I apply in the natural as well as in my relationship with God. 

Before this incident, when I fainted spiritually and fell as a result, I felt abandoned by God and very much unloved. Since He was supposed to be "all seeing" and "all knowing," why was it that He did not reach out His loving Hands to catch me before I fell? This question had often plagued my mind. God used my precious new husband's fainting spell to help me find the answer to that question.  

I now realize that my "all seeing and all knowing" Heavenly Father knows that it is better to let me fall, and then lovingly pick me up. His thoughts are not my thoughts nor are His ways my ways. If I showed so much love and care for my husband, how much more love and concern does God show to me? Just like the freshness of a new marriage, His mercies are new every morning. 

Psalm 147:3 says, "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

(NASB) Nothing that God does in our lives is meant to inflict additional pain or injury. When we faint or fall along life's way, He gently picks us up. He carefully tends to our wounds and tenderly heals our broken hearts, then sends us on our way. His love may let you fall…but He will always be there to pick you up. 

©2003. Melinda L. Lancaster. All Rights Reserved.