We’ve been in the middle of converting half our garage into a bedroom—a project that is still far from finished, with plenty of framing, drywall, and detailing ahead of us. We are taking our time with it, preparing a warm, welcoming space intended for extended family. It is hopeful work, rooted in hospitality and opening our home to those we love.
As part of the process, an electrician came out to install some outlets and take care of a few necessary tasks. When the crew finished for the day and packed up, Kevin walked into the bathroom and flipped the light switch.
Darkness.
Nothing happened.
It felt like a minor hassle at first—one of those small, irritating hiccups that always seem to accompany home renovations. The electricians returned the next day to trace the line, following the wiring up into the rafters and across the dark expanse of the attic to find where the connection had failed.
What they discovered wasn’t a mistake from the work done the day before. It was a hidden danger left behind years ago, entirely unknown to us.
Lying flat across the attic floor was a run of live, unsecured wiring. No junction box safely enclosed it, no protective casing—just bare, live wires lying directly against loose attic insulation. For over twenty-three years, as we went about our daily lives, raised our children, slept soundly, and made memories under this roof, a silent fire hazard rested right above our heads.
To realize how close danger can dwell without making a sound is deeply humbling. But far greater than the sudden chill of what could have been is the profound awe of what was.
God’s protection rarely arrives with a blast of trumpets or a dramatic parting of the clouds. So often, His providence hides in what feels, to our human eyes, like a momentary inconvenience. A light switch that refused to work wasn’t a frustration; it was a divine gentle hand nudging a hidden threat into the light—at the exact hour when professional hands were already standing nearby to mend it.
As we continue building out this bedroom, laying boards and wiring walls to shelter the family who will eventually rest here, I am reminded that God’s care over this house didn’t begin with our new plans. He was hovering over the quiet, unseen places all along.
We look up at our ceilings now with a sacred kind of gratitude. Beyond the insulation, the rafters, and the drywall, where human eyes could not see, the Almighty was standing watch—guarding our home in the dark, guiding us into the light, and keeping us safe in the palm of His hand.
Where Have You Seen His Hand?
I’d be so grateful to hear where you’ve seen Grace standing guard in your own life—leave a comment below and share your experience with me.
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