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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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