Roofing was not my thing. Not with my fear of heights. But my husband, Richard, needed help reshingling and, thanks to delays in getting the materials, our son had gone back to college by the time we started.
That bright, sunny morning I stood at the kitchen sink praying. Lord, I’ll never be able to help Richard if you don’t give me the power to overcome my fear.
For days I’d searched for courage in the Bible. I read about David, who battled Goliath. And Gideon, who led a small army of Israelites against the Midians on God’s command. Both men faced a job that seemed impossible and came out as heroes. I just needed to fix a roof!
“It’s time!” Richard called through the kitchen window.
I took a deep breath and followed him to the old wooden ladder propped against the house. He steadied it for me. My hands shook as I pulled myself up. My stomach felt queasy. I can’t do this, I thought, moving up another rung. I’ll never be able to do this. My whole body trembled.
When I reached the roof I crawled a few feet, keeping my eyes fixed on the old shingles below me. Anything to keep from seeing how high up I was. But I couldn’t stay on my hands and knees forever.
Ever so slowly I got my feet underneath me. Ever so slowly I stood up. Wow! In that moment, everything changed. I gazed out over the tops of the maple trees in our backyard, their leaves just starting to turn with the end of summer.
Beyond them were sprawling cornfields. Small white clouds dotted the bright blue sky before me. And I was part of it all up here. It was like seeing the world from God’s eyes. There was no fear, only a feeling of peace and awe at the beauty of this brand-new perspective.
Behind me, Richard climbed up on the roof with his toolbox. He stared at me in surprise.
“What are we waiting for?” I said. “Let’s get to work!”
