Help, Lord! I need... (fill in the blank)

This is an excerpt from Watchin' God, Book One, Listed Alphabetically.  I was telling a service tech about this today, and wanted to make it easy for him to find it.  Chris, I hope you can see more of the "Lord, could you find the hose for me, please!" that you saw today.

  

    Daddy had a faded “For Sale” sign on the property where I'd built the cabin.  Shortly before my son and I left the state I heard of a guy who was looking to buy property.  I called daddy to see if he was still interested in selling.  He was, so I told the guy about it.  I asked him if he was interested in buying my cabin, also.  He wasn't, so I tried to sell it to be moved.  No luck.  I left it there, with a lot of stuff I couldn't take on the plane.  The buyer would just inherit a furnished cabin.  What else could I do?
    About a week before we moved, I called the legal representative who was working with my VA disability case and was representing me at a hearing to determine my eligibility.  He had no information as to when my hearing would be.  I told him I was moving out of state, but would keep in touch, and would pray I had the money to come back up for the hearing.  I gave him Geoffrey's phone number and address to contact me if he heard anything about the hearing before I had an address of my own.    

     My son and I arrived in Tennessee on Thursday night.  I rented a car at the airport and looked for a motel in the vicinity as originally planned, since it was getting late.  The next morning we had an appointment to go see about a boarding house downtown that I found online before we left Maine.  Since I was a romantic teenager I'd wanted to live in a boarding house - just like the down-and-out heroines of those Grace Livingston Hill romance novels I used to read.  I guess I’m just a silly romantic at heart, huh?    
    The boarding house didn't look very inviting on the outside.  There was trash in the yard and the place was a ramshackle, rickety mess.  Next door was a rescue mission.  It seemed a good idea to talk to the staff and get their opinion on the boarding house.
    Their opinion wasn't good.  The director called a motel for me and arranged a discount rate for a week.    
    Thanks Lord!  That gave me time to look for a better place to live and a job.
    The next day I headed to Gunner. I didn't find the town very interesting, but stuck to that location to putter around for a few days, looking for a job, a place to live and a vehicle.
    Remembering the trouble I had in Washington finding a place to live without a job, I concentrated on a job first.   Kentucky Fried Chicken hired me as an assistant manager.  They were impressed that I had owned my own store for two summers.  That was on a Wednesday.  I was to start on Monday.
    Later that morning I found an apartment.  The rent was more than my son's Social Security check he got from his disabled father, but with the KFC job we'd make it.      
    After a bit of searching and spending $100 to have it inspected, I located a $1500 car the next day.  Since my debit card only allowed me to get $500 a day, I gave the salesman $100 and said I'd be back in three days with the rest.
    That night, Thursday, I got the feeling I should call the representative who was handling my VA case to ask him if he knew anything more about the hearing.  There was no reason he would have since I hadn't heard anything from him.
    Well, don't you know that sometimes I pay attention when God tells me something.  The legal representative said my hearing was scheduled for the following Tuesday!  The letter was sent to my former address, arriving probably the day after we left the state.  If I hadn't called, I would have missed the hearing!
    I had enough money in the bank to pay the rent on the new apartment for a month , buy a round-trip ticket to go to the hearing and spend a few days getting stuff from my old cabin that I couldn't bring with me when we left.  If I had been able to get the money for the car all in one day, I wouldn't have been able to go back for the hearing!  God's timing is perfect.              
    But the job at Kentucky Fried Chicken wouldn't be there when I got back.
    Well, Lord, You had me call to see about the hearing when there was no reason to do so; You kept me from buying a car when I was going to need the money to go back for the hearing; so I'm sure You will provide some way for me to pay the rent.  At least I have a month to find something.
     When I arrived for the hearing back in Maine, the rating officer said it was an open and shut case.  The head injury was all over my military records.  No problem.
    But the medical problem I was hoping to have them rate was bipolar, caused by the head injury.  That would take me back four years in pay.  When I originally filed, I knew nothing about a head injury and had only added it to the case a year prior to the hearing.  If the case was rated on the head injury, the back pay would only be a little more than a year.        
     Well, Lord, You know what You're doing.  You've always taken care of me, if I would trust You.  I'm sure You'll do what's best for me, so I'll trust You this time, too.
     When the hearing officer offered me 70% based on the head injury, he said I would have to go back to the psychiatrist. They'd let me know when the appointment was scheduled.  I told him I'd just moved out of state, and came back for the hearing.  I wouldn't be able to go to another appointment there.
    “Okay.  Did you like the psychiatrist you saw when you filed the claim four years ago?”
    “I did.”
    “Good.  We'll just send the file back to him.”
    Now, I was thinking that could be a good thing.  That psychiatrist told me four years ago if I could prove the bipolar started when I was in the military he would give me 100% in a heartbeat.
    I'd tried for all those four years to find someone who could verify that.  No one could.  My first husband sent three letters that I never received.  My friend only knew about the head injury, not its effects, though he did write a letter for me.  
    Out of desperation, I asked a life-long friend to write a letter.  She had seen me just two weeks before the head injury, and could verify that I hadn't even so much as mentioned the man I agreed to marry a month later.  She could also say what I was like now as compared to before the injury.  I didn't know if it would do any good, because the VA raters prefer military friends and co-workers, but I turned it in with the rest of the paperwork at the hearing.
    I asked God to get me the 100% if He didn't mind.  That way I wouldn't have to work and would have time and enough money to do and go and give whatever He wanted from me.

~*~

    When I arrived back at my new home in Tennessee I had no idea what we would do for food.  We had a little, but not much.  At least the rent was paid for a month.
    The Saturday I returned I found a little Baptist church three quarters of a mile away from the apartment.  There were a few guys working there, so I talked to them about the church.  It sounded like something we might be interested in, so the next morning my son and I walked to church.
    Less than a block from the apartment was a United Methodist Church with homecoming that morning.  “Homecoming” at any church in the South means food, and we didn't have much, and hadn't eaten breakfast and probably not supper the night before.
    I suggested we could save ourselves the walk and go to church there that morning.  My son looked at me like I'd lost all my marbles.
    “MO-om!  That's a United Methodist Church!  We are Independent Baptists.”  (The things kids pick up when you don't think they're listening!)
    “Okay,” I said with a deep sigh. “Let's go to the Baptist church,” as I kept walking that three quarters of a mile in my high-heeled shoes.
    Though I hadn't attended church much over the years, there are still several doctrines I look for in a church.  Between two services on Sunday and the Wednesday night service, the preacher touched on them all in passing.  I was sure that was where God had in mind for us to attend church.  We both enjoyed the services.

~*~

     A few weeks later there was an aggravating issue I needed to discuss with the apartment manager. I started to leave the apartment to go talk to her about it, but first a phone call and then a knock on the door kept me from getting out the door. Finally, the third try, I managed to head out to have that talk with the apartment manager.  
    I was about halfway to the office when I saw the preacher's wife drive up.  She had a strange look on her face.  She also had bags of groceries for us.  She said she'd argued with God about bringing us food.  She had no idea which apartment I lived in, so how was she going to get the stuff to me?  She'd argued about taking me anything at all, because I hadn't said I needed help and she didn't want to offend me by bringing food, like I was poor or something.  Amazing the excuses we use to ignore God.
    Well, don't you know, I was thrilled to death to see her.  God had done it again!  She found me against all odds, and we got food we desperately needed.
    Through circumstances, God kept me from a potentially unpleasant confrontation with the apartment manager.  It seemed God didn't want me to talk to her, considering the trouble I had when I tried.  We never did have that conversation.  Thanks again, Lord.  On both accounts.

   
~*~

    I still need a job, Lord.    
    A few days after making that request of God, my son and I were walking downtown and saw a Kirby store. Now, we both love Kirby vacuum cleaners.  We went in just to see what there was to see.  The owner and I discussed the merits of their product over other brands.  She offered me a job as a telemarketer, beginning that night.
    I told her I'd be happy to have the job, but I didn't work on Wednesday nights, as I needed to go to church.  She agreed.  WOW, Lord!  How unusual is that?  They were closed on Sunday, so that wasn't a problem.
    It wasn't much for pay, and only twenty four hours a week, but it would be enough to tithe, pay the rest of the rent my son’s check wouldn't cover and pay the utilities, with just a bit left over for food.
    So, now we had a church and I had a job I could walk to.  The grocery store was literally out the back door.  Still no car, but we didn't need one, and couldn't have afforded one.  God was working overtime taking care of me, giving me only what we needed, and not burdening me with things we didn't.
    After a while there were things going on at work I didn't feel were being done in a very ethical manner, but I needed the job.  I really didn't want to have to tell the boss lady I didn't think they were doing things the way I felt they should be done.  It wasn’t my place.  I asked God to show me what He wanted me to do.
    One night the other woman who worked with me decided I wasn't doing my job, so she called the boss to “come in and make me get to work.”
    Now, one does not have to be overly energetic to dial phone numbers no one answers.  Trust me; I was working as hard as she was.  She was making contact; I was only getting answering machines, and we weren't supposed to leave messages.
    When the boss arrived and heard the other lady's story, she asked me privately what was going on.  I told her working with that lady wasn't going to work, and I quit right then and there.
    She understood, I think, because another lady had already quit for the same reason.  And I didn't have to say anything about ethics.
    But now I had no job and the rent was due.    When I explained the situation to our new apartment manager, he said he understood my situation;  he was very sorry but he could only give me twenty days to pay the rent.  After that I'd have twenty four hours to move.
    Help Lord…  
    No one at church knew about the money situation.  I'm not even sure I told my son about the possible eviction.

     A week later, on the second of the month, I got a call from the legal representative for my VA disability case.  He said it had been approved - at 100% on the bipolar!
    That would be one very large chunk of change!  The back pay would commence from the filing date four years prior.  If it had been approved on the head injury that would have only given me seventeen months of back pay, because that’s when that diagnosis was made and I had added it to my VA claim.
    “Thanks Lord!” I shouted.  The man on the phone probably thought the award was well-deserved!
    Moving out of state had been a good thing.  If we hadn't moved, there is no telling which psychiatrist I would have seen.  Granted, God could have arranged it to be the same one, and in effect He had when we moved.
    Not that I had any idea when the money would arrive.  This is the government we're talking about.  It could be months.
    So, the countdown to being evicted began.  I didn't really look for a job because I was under the impression that if I got 100% I wouldn't be allowed to work (which years later I found not to be the case).  What would be the point in getting a job only to have to quit when the disability started?  If I managed to find a job within a week, I wouldn't get my first paycheck before the rent was due, anyway.
    I paid the utility bills and bought food with what money we had and saved as much as I could.  The rent had to be paid in full, no partial payments allowed.
    I waited and prayed.  I don't remember worrying, though.  I'd seen God work so many miracles since moving there that I didn't even begin packing to move, or arranging for help if I needed it.  I just knew God was going to come through for me.  I did wonder what I’d do with all our stuff if He had other plans for me.  The sidewalk outside the apartment would be pretty full of stuff.
    On the morning of the 20th I walked to the mailbox, hoping the check would be there.
    No check.
     I was finally beginning to wonder what was going to happen next and began looking at our possessions in terms of what we would be able to keep, wondering where we would go. 
     My daddy called in the early afternoon of the 20th, just three hours before the rent had to be paid, or we'd be out on the street the next day. 
    "The man who is buying my property also wants to buy your cabin.  He just sent half the money for your cabin.  Where would you like me to send it?”
    “Wire it to my bank here, please!  Now!”  For the first time, I explained the situation.
    Eventually the money from the VA did come in the mail.  In the meanwhile, God changed the heart of a buyer and the money daddy sent paid the bills.
    God had done it again!