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"Now, Lord," I heard Mama say one day, "You're going to have to do something about the well. You know we need water. And you've said all we have to do is ask, so thank you for the way you'll guide us in solving this. Meanwhile, keep the men strong and safe as they dig."

My grandfather and uncles reached a good water table the next morning.

When my son, Jay, was a toddler, he'd often exclaim, "Hey, take a see!" What if we offered that same joyful call to our heavenly Father as we thank him for a beautiful sunrise?

Similarly, what if we were truthful in our pain? As a single parent, many of my prayers have begun with "Lord, you know I hate days like this," as I've faced another crisis. When the Lord said, "Come unto me," he didn't add, "as long as there's a smile on your face." He just said, "Come!"

Especially then. One of my single-mom friends, Debi, heard her then nine-year-old son, Shane, screaming as he charged into the house one summer morning. He was clutching his left hand with his right—and blood oozed out between his fingers.

"Shane! What happened? Let me see!"

The child backed up. "No! You'll hurt me!"

She pleaded with him again to no avail.

Finally, Debi wrestled him to the floor and carefully opened his fingers, expecting to see exposed bone and tendon. But the cut was just a scrape, the kind that bleeds a lot. After tending to the wound, Debi sent Shane back to his ball game.

Putting away the first aid kit, she marveled at her son's dramatics. Then she realized she'd done the same to God. After her husband walked out, she felt so hurt she wouldn't pray. God was saying, "Let me help," while Debi stood with fists clenched, saying, "No, you'll hurt me."

Right there in the kitchen, Debi sobbed out her pain, telling the Lord what he already knew, but what she needed to hear herself saying. Her own healing had begun.

When we are up to our necks in a mess and we can't pull ourselves out, that's when God can show his power.

I've taken weeks to work through some dilemmas, but especially in the midst of a crisis, all I had time for was a panicked "Lord!" That's all I could do in Pennsylvania when a speeding car spun out of control and began heading for us. The car barely missed us.

On another rainy afternoon near our home, a car did hit us, even as I yelped the same prayer. I don't know why God sometimes intervenes and other times he does not. I do know he is with us even in bad times.

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