Sometimes you don’t know who to ask.

Sometimes you feel like you’ve asked too much.

Sometimes you’re just self-reliant. It’s not a stubborn belief in self, but determination to accomplish that drives.

Sometimes you feel like you are constantly cupped in the hand of God, an unseen helper/enabler of all good.

Some years ago, my private practice was thriving. I had two office locations, with employees working for me at each.

But I was always a sublessee, subject to the lease agreements and circumstances of others. That occasioned some change several times across a thirty year span.

I had a 6X6 book shelf unit, a substantial pine box of open shelves that showcased a veritable toy store, items with which my young clients could play – enticements to learn to talk, to ignite motivation to overcome disorder.

The furniture piece was an incredible bulk in blue. It was sturdy and well-styled. It was heavy – not even an earthquake could have shaken it down, though the toys would have been a shambles.

When a move from my second story office, in a building without an elevator, was necessary, my traveling sales husband only had Saturday available to help me.

We rented a U-Haul truck, but the one with the lift was already taken when we arrived at the lot. Argh! Our backs would really get into the task of moving my desk, chairs, books, and boxed therapy tools and toys, like it or not. Argh! This was a morning that we’d just hope to get through, downing a half bottle of Advil with lunch.

Hmmn – how to move the shelf unit down the wide, carpeted flight of stairs! Perhaps it will ‘ski’ the treads, with one of us on either side to control it, as if we were human ski poles.

Picture it, Constant Reader. Then infuse a sound track of on-the-edge grunting and labor. Imagine two people crushed by a heavy book case at the bottom of the stairs…it might be a cave scene like Indiana Jones and the rapidly rolling rock!

Then welcome the appearance of a man I’d never met, working on Saturday paperwork down the hall. While it was not easy, the Good Samaritan helped us to ease the piece down the stairs and into the truck parked at the curb.

Seventeen miles down the road, we parked the truck outside the new office location, in a wing of a private school. Without a word, the two Latino guys working under the hood of their older car in the shade of a rare Maple tree, joined us in the moving endeavor. I am not kidding – two gentlemen of sturdy build – just fell into step and hefted with us, as they had been called…

That we didn’t have to ask – and that no man ¬†would allow compensation other than “thanks” – was among the first clear set of miracles that I recall. Unbidden by anything other than conscience and a close relationship with a God that commands that we help each other. To do it just because.

Blogs look better with pictures – and I’d love to offer one up in this instance – but when I closed the office, Salvation Army personnel came promptly to pick it up. Another moving day miracle, a day without angst or Advil.