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Reading Room Titles
Hot Grease
(a true story) by Wanda
Daugherty
It was the
mid-1980’s and the South
was caught in the grip of a
terrible recession. To make
matters worse my Husband had
been laid off from his job
with South Central Bell
telephone Company shortly
after the birth of our second
child.
What
followed were four long years
of temporary jobs and
unemployment checks. Day
after weary day he trudged
out the door, only to come
home with a beaten look on
his face. In time, he began
to talk about traveling North
in search of a construction
job. The thought terrified
me. I couldn’t go with
him, but how could I let him
go alone? I did what I could
to make things easier for
him, but I had no job
training at the time and two
small children to take care
of. So, I clipped
coupons and prayed.
My son loved
becon and one winter’s
day the local market
advertised it on sale. So I
went shopping and stocked up.
But the inexpensive meat was
mostly fat and it bubbled
generously in the pan as
I fried it for sandwiches
that night. The skillet
filled with the hot liquid
renderings and my heart
filled with discouragement.
Would God ever really hear
and answer our prayer?
Just then my
little daughter toddled
toward me across the kitchen
floor with a baby’s
sweet uncertain steps. I
didn’t want the grease
to pop on her, so I picked up
the skillet to move it to a
burner farther away.
What happened
next transpired so quickly
that my mind couldn’t
take it in. The handle of the
old skillet broke, tipping
over and covering my right
hand with hot grease. My mind
screamed what could hardly
even be called a prayer
"Oh my God, I’ve
ruined my hand!" We had
no insurance and
wouldn’t be able to pay
the bills for the hospital
care an injury like this was
sure to require.
I turned and
put my hand under cool
running water as I waited for
the pain. None came
came."Maybe it’s
just numb," I thought
desperately as I turned off
the water and examined my
hand. It wasn’t even
pink from the scalding.
In time, the
telephone company called my
husband back to work. And
through the years, God has
shown time and again that He
is faithful. But I often
remember how as a frightened
young mother, I reached out
to Him with struggling
half-faith in a time of great
need and found Him there.
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