It was the middle of the night. My bedroom was still and dark, but I had barely slept a wink. Again. With every tick of the clock on my nightstand, my fear resounded in my head: I’ll never find a job! Never!
I’d been laid off six months earlier. The bills were piling up and my unemployment benefits were about to run out. I’d sent out dozens of résumés, but I hadn’t landed as much as an interview. Was there no hope for me? No light at the end of the tunnel?
Please, God, give me peace, I asked. Let me get a little sleep! But not even prayer brought me comfort.
Finally I threw back the covers and shuffled to the bathroom to get myself a drink of water.
As I was standing at the sink I heard my cell phone vibrating. My heart jumped. Who would call at this hour? It must be an emergency. I rushed to pick up the phone.
Too late. “Missed call,” the display read. I didn’t recognize the number. That was odd.
I sent the caller a text: “Who is it?”
Immediately a reply popped up on my phone. “LOL. It was a misdial, Barbs. Sorry.”
Barbs. Only a few friends called me that. If someone was playing a joke on me, it wasn’t funny. I couldn’t imagine any friend of mine pulling this kind of trick. Annoyed, I sent another text: “You seem to know me, but I don’t know you. I thought there was an emergency.”
I held the phone and waited for a reply. It turned out it was a wrong number. The caller had gotten my voice mail first and that’s how she knew my name. Then she finished the message. “Don’t worry, Barbara,” she texted. “There is a light that shines even in the night.”
I looked at the message for a long moment before I got back into bed. There is a light that shines even in the night. I was going to be okay. Soon I drifted into a peaceful sleep. They had been the very words I needed to hear.
I’ve been at my new job for several months now. My mystery caller had the right number after all. There was an emergency that dark night—my crisis of faith.
