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.
