Alone, Or Not.

(A biographical true story)




Thirty seconds on the phone, and my heart was pounding. "What do you mean you're in town?" I gasped through the static to my older son. Repositioning my cell phone, I listened to his response. It was simple. Both teenage sons, thinking the other was babysitting, had left my nine-year-old daughter home alone. Alone, all day, on a farm, with the nearest neighbor a half-mile away, and a major winter storm building on the radar.

With my new off-the-farm job, our family had been forced to make adjustments, and this was a minor hiccup, or so both sons assured me, as I called back and forth between them to see who could get back home quicker.

My shift didn't end for another eight hours. Add the pending snow storm to the equation, and the only 4WD in our possession being parked outside my work, and you might understand my concern.

After arranging for one son to come pick up the 4WD and return to the farm, I placed a call to my daughter. Four rings and the voice-mail kicked in. I tried again. This time, I heard someone pick up.

"Hi, honey," I said. A distinct click in my ear was the only response.  The call had disconnected.

This was not like my daughter. I tried again, and this time received the busy signal. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the panic needling my stomach. We have a call-waiting feature, and never receive a busy signal unless something has gone wrong with the line.

My overactive writer's imagination jumped into hyper-drive. I pictured one scenario after another, involving an injured child; child molesters, serial killers -- if you can imagine it, I probably was.

I called my son, Sam.  "Are you on your way?"

"Just leaving my girlfriend's house," he replied.

"Hurry!" I shouted down the line, wondering if my next call should be to the police.

Instead I dialed home, and this time my daughter, Amber, answered.

"Are you okay? Is anybody else there? Sam is on his way to get you," I said, before pausing to take a breath.

"I'm fine. Why is Sam coming to get me?" Amber asked.

"Because I don't want you home alone. He's going to take you back to town to stay with him at his girlfriend's house. She's babysitting her little sister today, too."

With that information relayed and a promise she'd call when Sam arrived, I was finally able to get back to what I should have been doing all along -- working.

That night, in the barn, doing chores together, I hugged my daughter and said, "I'm so sorry you were left home alone. I hope you weren't too scared."

She shook her head and smiled. "Well, Mom. I wasn't alone."

"How do you figure?" I asked.

She looked at me with a puzzled glance, and responded in the slow, serious voice of someone explaining something very obvious to a person who needs help to understand.

"God was with me. He kept me company. He says, I will never leave you or forsake you. He is always with me." Giving me another hug, she added, "Safe in His arms, Mom, remember?"

She was quoting from one of her favorite songs, Safe, by Phil Wickham. I love that song.

My eyes filled with tears, and I held her tight. "Of course, honey. Silly me."

As she skipped back to the house through the drifting snow, I looked up at the sky, whispered, "Thank you," and felt His presence and love surround me.

How could I have forgotten in all those calls, to call on the One who loves us more than we can ever comprehend? My daughter, while trying to answer my call earlier that day, had become confused on which button she needed to press to receive the call waiting, but she wasn't confused when it came to the most important thing of all: her faith in God.

Oh, for the faith of a child.