praying for help with repairs

My husband and I as avid “do-it-yourselfers: planned a blueberry Saturday: pick-em and put-em in the freezer. So when the wash machine shaft broke, I knew who would fix it. Saturday morning before we went to pick berries, my husband tore apart the machine, reluctantly stopping to go berry picking.
We returned with 25 pounds of berries and four bushels of corn. My three elementary-aged sons and I stayed outside for a corn husking party. My repairman returned to the wash machine.
As I hauled he corn into the house, the heap of fresh blueberries reminded me of work to do. I told our two oldest they were blueberry factory workers. They began sacking berries for the freezer. I helped them as I waited for the water to heat for blanching corn. By 9:30 p.m. all the blueberries were in the freezer and the factory workers were in bed.
I still had heaps of corn to do , a kitchen floor covered with wash machine parts and a husband who needed an extra hand.
Several times I begrudgingly quit cutting off corn to play mechanic’s apprentice. Finally, my man said, “I think I have this fixed. Help me put the tub back in place.” I put down the knife I was using and helped left the tub through the front of the frame. He re-attached the belts.
All I had to do was hold the seal, counterweight and clamp all in place. The cat iron counterweight turned in my hands, the metal clamp had shrunk and the rubber seal had grown. For an hour we fought to position and balance everything as we screwed the clamp in place.
At almost midnight we stopped, “While you try to figure out another way,” I said, “I’ll take this corn down to the freezer.”
Wearily I stumbled through a trail of cobs, corn silk, squashed berries, tools and machine parts to the basement. I slumped on the steps beside the freezer and dropped my head into my hand, “Oh God, I just can’t go on. You know how those parts go together. Would you please put our hand sin the right places and show us how to put the parts back in place. We need you the God of the Impossible to help us.”
My prayer was interrupted with the persistent man’s call. “Let’s try again.” I went back upstairs. The pieces flowed together without slipping. We screwed the clamp in place. My husband lifted the front panel over the machinery. It didn’t fit — we had a part in upside down. We quickly undid the clamp, repositioned everything and fitted the panel in place. We were done.
I didn’t say anything about my prayer. I pushed my hair back and returned to the counter and the last of the corn. At 1 a.m. Sunday we crawled into bed.
Two weeks later as we weeded our garden my husband asked, “When did you pray?”
“About what?”
“That we fix that wash machine.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because after an hour of getting nowhere we put those pieces together twice in less than 20 minutes.” He knew, we may try but we don’t really do it all by ourselves.