I spent a couple of hours yesterday talking to my troubled teen, who was weepy and distraught and angry and venomous. I stayed calm, but it was exhausting. I was glad to go to bed that night.
This morning my alarm rang at 5:30, as usual. I went to my daughter’s room to give her medication. The dog was in her bed. She wasn’t. Startled, I glanced at the bathroom, but no one was in there. My bleary brain scrambled to make sense of it. We have a small apartment: Where could she be?
I had awakened once in the night at the sound of someone in the kitchen. Normally I get up to chase midnight snackers back to bed, but was tired, and I didn’t hear the fridge open. Maybe it’s the dog, I’d thought, and rolled over and back to sleep. Now I wondered if it was something else. What if my 15-year-old had left the house? Surely I would have heard the door.
Read More: The Prayer That Saved Us
I walked back to the kitchen, where my husband Andrew was stumbling through the process of making coffee. “I think we have a problem,” I began to say. As the words emerged from my mouth I glanced toward the living room, where my daughter was lying on the sofa, covering her head with a quilt.
Whew.
Thank you, Lord, that she is safe.
And then, because not everyone receives the same blessings, and mindful that every thank-you I offer can serve as a reminder to me to pray for someone who is hurting: Please bless the parents who awaken this morning to find a child has left. Guide them, comfort them, and draw them close to your heart.
