Picture this: it’s a peaceful spring morning, birds are singing, and the smell of blooming flowers drifts through the air. But for Old Mrs. Watkins, this morning came with a little extra… a water hazard, to be precise. She wakes up, stretches, and what does she discover? Her house has been transformed into the indoor swimming pool she never asked for, thanks to the river that decided to move in on the first floor.

As the water continues its relentless rise, Mrs. Watkins peeks out her window. What’s this? Two charming gentlemen are paddling by in a rowboat, undoubtedly on their way to safety. “Hop aboard, Mrs. Watkins!” they shout with the enthusiasm of seasoned lifeguards. But our heroine, steadfast in her faith, declines politely with a spirited, “No, thank you. The Lord will provide.” Who needs boats when you’ve got divine intervention, right?
The men resume their rowing adventure, leaving Mrs. Watkins to her DIY water park. By evening, with the water showing no signs of calling it quits, she takes refuge on her roof, channeling her inner rooftop lounge vibe. Another rescuer appears, this time in a motorboat, offering assistance with the kind offer of “Need a lift?” However, Mrs. Watkins, undeterred by the waves, repeats her mantra, “Don’t trouble yourself. The Lord will provide.” She’s got faith the size of the rising river.
Our story doesn’t end there. As the night progresses, the water continues its climb, forcing Mrs. Watkins up onto her rooftop, then even higher onto the chimney. At this point, she’s basically playing the world’s most dangerous game of hide and seek with the floodwaters. Along comes a Red Cross cutter, patrolling with hope to rescue. Yet again, Mrs. Watkins waves them off with a determined, “The Lord will provide.” Is she persistent or just testing how waterproof her house is?
Alas, the river doesn’t take a hint, and the story takes a turn for the soggy. The waters win this round, and Mrs. Watkins finds herself at the pearly gates, wet-haired but not-so-riche. Here, she demands an audience with God, understandably miffed. “What happened?” she questions with an expression that could melt glaciers.
And what does the Almighty say? With an exasperated sigh that echoes through eternity, “For cryin’ out loud, lady, I sent three boats!”
So, what’s the takeaway here? When life sends you a rowboat or two (or three), it’s probably a good idea to hop in. Miracles might come in the form of something as mundane as a life raft and sometimes divine help means the willingness to say yes to a little human intervention. Old Mrs. Watkins might beg to differ or rather float your own boat with divine flair!