God’s Abiding Presence

“Hey, you around?” I texted my friend Jennifer, who was also my manager at the store. I was beat, physically and mentally. It’d been three weeks since my father was rushed to the hospital with chillingly low blood pressure, among other symptoms, and he was still there.

Jennifer called me immediately. “How are you?”

The words spilled out. “I’m so tired. I don’t know what to do. My dad’s in terrible shape. I think what makes me a good daughter and what makes me a good employee are the same thing: I’m loyal and committed. But at this point, I just feel empty, like I have nothing to give.” Suddenly, heaving tears and hiccups came, unbidden.

“I’m taking you off the schedule for tomorrow,” Jennifer told me. “Just stay home and take some time for yourself. If you wake up and you feel better, text.”

I sniffled. “Thank you.”

“This is hard. It’s big stuff, but remember I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I told Jennifer. “And it really helps.” I crawled into bed and slept more deeply than I had in weeks, grateful for a friend’s comfort.