When God is Late

I'd prayed and prayed, but God didn't answer. He had His own timing, I would learn. And, of course, His timing was far better than my own.

“If he were my husband,” Ray’s physical therapist declared following his heart attack and brain injury, “I would send him to a specialized neurological treatment center. He’d receive eight hours a day of rehab. It’s his best shot of getting back to normal.”

We didn’t have any of these facilities in Indiana, but there were several in neighboring Michigan. So, with the help of Ray’s care team, I applied for Ray to go to Hope Network in East Grand Rapids, and he was accepted.

There was just one problem, however. Hope Network was out of network with our insurance provider, and the cost was astronomical. There was no way, with the sole provider of our family likely unable to ever work again, that we could afford it. I prayed and prayed, begged and cajoled, but the insurance company wouldn’t budge.

So I settled on an assisted living facility and, when that didn’t work out, brought Ray home. With the help of our wonderful community, we made it work. But it wasn’t easy.

Most challenging of all, perhaps, was having all seven of us (plus a dog) packed into an 1800 square foot house. Brain-injured people need quiet and calm, and quiet and calm were not easily available when the kids were home. The kids irritated, annoyed, and aggravated Ray, and, in his brain-injured state, he was not afraid to make sure they knew it—sometimes in very hurtful ways.

Fortunately, for the first several months after he came home, the older kids were in school, giving Ray a regular reprieve from the commotion and the kids a reprieve from the reprimands. By mid-May, however, things were about to change. Our preschooler’s last day of school was the following week, and her siblings’ last day would be the week after that. We were bracing for a long, arduous summer of Shut Up! Stop talking! Stop moving!, where Mom couldn’t leave Dad or safely take him along to do any of the fun things kids are supposed to do in the summer. No parks, no pools, no trips to the zoo or museum. Money was far too tight for camps. Barring off-site playdates with friends, the kids would be stuck at home, with Ray in a near-constant state of irritation.

Late one night, with this weighing heavily on my shoulders, I walked and prayed the Rosary. Meditating on the Crucifixion, Christ’s words came to my mind.

“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Yes, God! I cried inwardly. You’ve abandoned me! You’ve abandoned us!

I wallowed in that for a Hail Mary or two. I may have even shed a few tears in self-sympathy. And then I remembered something I’d learned from a homily or Bible study somewhere over the years:

Christ’s cry quoted Psalm 22, which starts as a lament and ends as a song of praise. Every Jew standing at the foot of the cross would have know that Psalm by heart, and Christ’s cry of abandonment would have brought their minds, ultimately, to words of praise. I didn’t know the words, but I knew the gist, and it was enough.

God would provide. God would be glorified. Just as He had promised, just as he had done many times before.

I extended my walk, doing an extra lap around the neighborhood to wallow—this time in trust and hope.

You’ve got this, God. Jesus, I trust in You.

The next morning, I received a phone call from our insurance company. Unbeknownst to me, Ray’s employer had been advocating for him to go to Hope Network, and Ray’s former director had participated in a meeting with the insurance company the day before.

“Ray needs those services,” she had declared, “and we want him to have them. We’ll pay for the difference to make it in-network for the Engelman family.”

Two days later, Ray and I went to East Grand Rapids to tour Hope Network and meet the staff. The following week—the day before our daughter’s last day of preschool—I drove him to Michigan and got him moved in.

Ray with our youngest son, Evan, while at Hope Network

I’d wanted Ray to go to Hope Network in February, but my prayer had gone unanswered.

God knew better what our family needed.

We needed Ray home during those months while our kids were in school, and we needed Ray in the quiet and supportive Hope Network while our kids were home for break.

Today, my kids will tell you that was the best summer ever. They got to go to Michigan almost every weekend to see Daddy. We stayed in a hotel where they got to make their own waffles for breakfast each morning. We even met an amazing East Grand Rapids couple who invited us to their Father’s Day celebration, took Ray out during the week, and added us to their club membership so the kids got to play at an amazing water park each weekend.

And Ray? He received physical therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy, recreational therapy, and therapies I didn’t even know existed. He played frisbee golf, was gifted a trike, made new friends and was the life of the rehab center. He came home speaking more fluently, walking more steadily, and dealing with noise more tolerantly.

Ray with our new East Grand Rapids friend, Matt. The best of the best.

God had hit it out of the park, but He did it in His time, not mine.

Thank God.

What prayer hasn’t been answered in your life? Might God be biding his time?

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About Stephanie Engelman:

Stephanie is a mother of five and caregiver to her husband, who suffered a brain injury in 2015 after a near-fatal heart attack. She is the author of the best-selling Catholic YA novel A Single Bead, a story of the power of prayer, of the Bead by Bead children’s Rosary series, and of the brand-new middle grade novel, Mac’s Mission Diary: Operation Save the Summer—an illustrated book that encourages kids to get off devices and into fun. Stephanie frequently gives uplifting talks to faith-oriented groups and is the proud owner of the Etsy shop, Mountains Will Move, where you can find hope-filled apparel and gifts!