September 28, 2026
Last week, Dad received a message from his nephew, Burt Mitchell.
Burt said he was coming into town for about 24 hours and asked if there was any special project around the house that needed to be done. If there was, he wanted to know so he could plan accordingly.
Dad read the message, and I could see the wheels turning.
The list was long.
Dad has been wanting to add on to the back porch. He wants to paint the house, re-landscape the yard, trim trees, de-clutter the house, and rebuild Mom’s handicap ramp.
Apparently, all he needed was a willing Marine and 24 hours.
As Dad organized his mental list according to what he considered most important, Burt was willing to tackle whatever project Dad chose.
As a Marine who has served our country for the past two decades, Burt has developed the kind of mind that looks at a problem and immediately starts figuring out how to solve it.
Dad’s decision was clear:
The handicap ramp.
And honestly, I was relieved.
I can shovel mulch and plant flowers all day long. But when Dad says, “Let’s do a little yard work,” that innocent little sentence has a way of turning into a full-scale survival exercise.
Dad’s mind says, Get to work.
His body says, Absolutely not.
Before long, Dad can usually be found somewhere on his back, lying in a ditch and negotiating with his legs about their refusal to cooperate with his demands. Then I’m left trying to figure out how to dig him out of whatever hole he has managed to fall into.
By the time we are both upright and standing on two feet again, we spend the next week nursing our thorny wounds and trying to evict the chiggers who have apparently decided to establish permanent colonies on our torsos.
And when it comes to operating gas-powered lawn equipment?
Let’s just say I have already served my time in the wilderness.
For evidence, simply go back and read my blog, “Purgatory and English Ivy.” That story should be sufficient documentation for why I have vowed never to return to that particular branch of outdoor ministry.
So, yes.
A Marine was exactly what we needed.
Burt arrived on Friday, and by 5:00 p.m. he was already digging holes for Dad and beginning the preparation work that would transform the entrance to Mom’s home.
And as I watched everything unfolding, I was reminded once again of how little we sometimes ask our Heavenly Father when it comes to supplying our needs.
We pray with such humility because we never want our hearts to become conceited or ungrateful. We don’t want to assume God owes us anything. We want to recognize every blessing as a gift.
But sometimes we forget something important:
Our Father delights in providing for His children.
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father…” — James 1:17
Dad had found a donated banister at the rehab store several years ago. It became Mom’s support rail as she navigated the old ramp.
It was never really meant to be a permanent solution.
The ramp was too short, and the railing was actually an indoor banister that had been repurposed for outdoor use. But Dad was grateful for it, and for several years, it served its purpose.
Until it didn’t.
This year, the railing and its balusters began falling apart.
Then, two weeks ago, Mom lost her footing twice while trying to navigate the old ramp. The wood was rotting in places, and the structure had weakened under the weight.
It was time.
Time to stop patching.
Time to rebuild.
Dad’s mind had already drawn the blueprints.
Unfortunately, Dad’s body was still in active rebellion.
His brain was saying, We need to fix this.
His arms and legs were responding, That sounds like “your” problem.
And this is where God stepped in.
God sees the need.
But more importantly, God sees the desire of Dad’s heart to meet the need.
Dad wanted to fix the ramp.
He wanted Mom to be safe.
He wanted to do what he has always done—take care of his family.
But his body simply wasn’t able to do what his mind was demanding of it.
So God put the burden on someone else’s heart.
Burt.
Maybe Burt didn’t realize why he was suddenly prompted to message Dad.
Maybe he didn’t know why he happened to mention that he was coming into town.
Maybe he didn’t realize that his simple question—“Is there anything that needs to be done around the house?”—was about to become an answer to a prayer that had never even been spoken out loud.
But Burt does know what it means to recognize the prompting of the Holy Spirit.
And he followed it all the way to our doorstep.
While Burt worked on the ramp, the rest of us worked around the yard. We cleaned up, trimmed the remaining bushes, tackled trees and weeds, and did whatever we could to help.
And Dad?
Dad got a front-row seat.
Coffee mug in hand, he assumed his rightful position as overseer, supervisor, consultant, and quality-control department.
He watched Burt’s every move.
And perhaps it’s in the Mitchell DNA, but there was something familiar about watching Burt work.
Thirty-five years ago, I remember my father helping friends and family build decks, renovate homes, and redesign living spaces.
Now, I was watching his nephew do the same thing.
The craftsmanship.
The attention to detail.
The willingness to work until the job was done.
Dad had been handed a living reminder of the younger man he once was.
And while Dad supervised, Mom had her own important agenda.
Burt’s daughter, Jacqueline, is a student at Liberty University, and she spent some precious time with Mom while her dad worked.
They watched wrestling together.
Yes.
Wrestling.
Because apparently dementia has rewritten Mom’s television preferences.
Wrestling is about as far removed from Mom’s personality as you could possibly get, but somehow it has become one of her new favorite shows.
And she LOVES it.
She watches with complete enthusiasm, clapping her hands and yelling, “Oh no!”
Then, when the wrestlers get back up on their feet, she becomes genuinely excited.
Honestly, watching Mom discover professional wrestling has provided our family with more than a few laughs.
The woman who once had very particular tastes in entertainment now watches two grown men throw each other around a wrestling ring with the enthusiasm of someone who has just discovered the Super Bowl.
But thankfully, we have the Gaither Band to restore balance to the universe.
Jacqueline and Mom also spent time coloring together while listening to an ’80s Gaither Band playlist.
Now that is much more in keeping with Mom’s original programming.
And while Mom colored, listened to music, and occasionally cheered on professional wrestlers, Burt kept building.
Twenty-four hours after he started, Mom took her first stroll across her new ramp.
Exactly 24 hours.
At 5:00 p.m. Saturday, the project was complete.
Burt cleaned up his tools, thanked Mom and Dad for allowing him to serve them, and climbed into his vehicle for the three-hour drive home.
Three hours there.
A full day of work.
Three hours back.
All because he listened to a prompting.
All because he asked a simple question.
All because he was willing to serve.
This is how God works.
Sometimes we pray for a miracle, expecting something dramatic.
But sometimes the miracle looks like a text message.
Sometimes it looks like a nephew who suddenly decides to come to town.
Sometimes it looks like a Marine with a toolbox.
Sometimes it looks like a father sitting in a chair with a coffee mug because his legs can no longer do what his mind tells them to do.
Sometimes it looks like a daughter coloring with her grandmother while an ’80s Gaither Band playlist fills the room.
Sometimes it looks like a mother with dementia safely taking her first steps across a brand-new ramp.
And sometimes, when God sees a need that we cannot meet ourselves, He doesn’t necessarily move the mountain.
He moves a Marine.
“And my God shall supply all your needs according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:19
God saw the need.
God saw Dad’s heart.
God saw Mom’s need for a safe way into her home.
And before Dad ever had the strength to figure out how he was going to accomplish the job, God had already arranged for Burt to ask the question.
Isn’t that just like our Father?
He is not limited by our limitations.
He is not confused by our circumstances.
He is not surprised by the things that leave us wondering, How are we ever going to do this?
He already knows.
And sometimes His answer is bigger than we imagined.
Sometimes His answer comes through family.
Sometimes through a stranger.
Sometimes through a friend.
And sometimes…
through a Marine.
So thank you, Burt, for listening when the Holy Spirit prompted you to reach out.
Thank you for giving Dad back something he couldn’t physically do for himself.
Thank you for giving Mom a safer path into her home.
And thank You, Lord, for reminding us that You are our Provider.
When we see a need, help us remember that You see it first.
When our bodies can no longer keep up with the desires of our hearts, remind us that You are still able to accomplish what we cannot.
And when You send someone to help, give us humble hearts that recognize the blessing.
Because when God sees the need, He moves mountains.
Or, in this case…
He moved a Marine.
First Class.
Semper Fi.
And to our faithful Father:
“Now unto Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think…” — Ephesians 3:20
