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No One Grabs My Broom
by Lynn Wallace
03/30/10
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"Honey, let me have that broom," Leon said when I started to sweep the carpet.

We had moved from Page, Arizona to the Navajo reservation. We lived in a partially converted school bus. We had running water two miles away. We had two five-gallon propane tanks for heat and cooking. We bought a propane lamp for light. We set up an outhouse several feet from the bus. Because we had no use for an electric vacuum cleaner, we sold it.

For about ten years we served as missionaries to the Navajo Indians in three states: New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah. We left to try to raise more support. Leon worked to support his family and ministered to the Navajo on weekends. Often we found nobody home. Leon felt he needed to be a full time missionary to do an effective work.

However, he failed to raise one penny of new support. Our church, we later found out, had changed its doctrinal position.

This forced Leon to move to a city where he could find work. At the same time he hoped to find a church to send us out.

Now we lived in Dallas without a vacuum cleaner. My sweet husband grabbed the broom from me. For about six years he kept grabbing the broom and sweeping the carpet for me.

Soon all that was to change. He sat in the car one morning getting it ready to drive to work. I walked out to the car. Suddenly he began gasping for breath and made a faint sound. Then he fell over backward in the seat. I thought I detected a faint heart beat. Oh God! Let my beloved live, my heart cried out.

I stole a glance at my watch as the minutes slowly ticked by. Finally the ambulance arrived. "Please, God," I pled, "if it be your will, let Leon live."

At last the ambulance driver crawled in the seat and started up this vehicle. He drove us to the Methodist Hospital.

For an hour that seemed like an eternity I sat in the waiting room. At last the doctor walked up to me. "Mrs. Wallace?"

"Yes."

"Your husband just passed away. He died of a massive heart attack. We did everything we could to save him."

I felt numb. Now I had nobody to grab my broom. Sweeping the carpet gave me a lonely feeling.

How do I cope without my honey to grab the broom? I bought a vacuum cleaner, but that failed to take away the ache in my heart. I still missed my honey who grabbed the broom.

My Lord gave me a job to do for Him. That keeps me busy and the pain of separation from becoming unbearable. Communing daily with Him gives me strength to vacuum carpets and serve Him.

Thank you, Lord, that Thou art with me when I miss my Broom Grabber.



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