Lovingly in the Hands of the Father

Lovingly in the Hands of the Father
By Evelyn Whitehall
 
                        This is a true story. May it reach those who are seeking release from bondage.
 
I was called over the telephone by someone in trouble. That was nothing unusual, seeing that my life has been dedicated to service. The only difficulty with the call was my lack of leisure to give it attention.
 
The woman’s voice was imperative. “I must see you,” she declared, “even if it is only for five minutes.”
 
Minutes to me were golden; but the memory suddenly came to me of something said years ago by a man of wide experience: “You can find time for anything that you really want to do.” Since then I have found that we always work in, by a side door or through some crevice, the things that are nearest to our heart.
 
I have, too, a very literal way of accepting the Scriptures. I take a promise as it is given, and when I am told that the Lord will provide, I know that His provision includes time for the necessary things of life, as well as our daily bread.
 
The woman in trouble met me at the door of her boardinghouse. She was tall and good-looking, with a pleasing personality. She was the caretaker of the place. “Caretaker—yes, and I’ve been in this place for five years,” she explained. “It was the only work to which I could turn after I lost my money. Before that I had always been used to a home of my own, but now for five years I have been working for strangers, doing the work of an ordinary janitor—scrubbing, cleaning, answering telephones, smiling on the guests when many a time I felt inclined to kick them. I’m so tired of it all that I have grown to hate the dawn that brings the pots and pans into sight again.”
 
On my arrival her expression had been full of hope and anticipation. As she talked her expression changed. The light of battle was in her eyes. In a moment I sensed what she had been building into her world during five years.
 
 “I’ve done all in my power to get free from this,” she continued, “but I can’t even find time to look for anything else, and I don’t dare throw out the dirty water until I get the clean. Every day I make up my mind to answer advertisements in the evening paper, but when evening comes I’m so worn out that I care for nothing but sleep. What would you advise me to do?”