Today, all over again

I am lying in bed, reading. A helicopter flies overhead.  It circles and comes back over.  Before long I realize it must be a police helicopter looking for someone.  “Are all the doors locked?” I ask Gina.

 

They are.  I decide not to get up and close the windows.  I’ve waited too long for these cool nights.  This is the kind of weather I fondly refer to as “sleeping weather”.

 

I’m exhausted. It’s around 9:30. It will take more than helicopters to keep me up tonight. I fall asleep. 

 

The phone is ringing.  Who is calling in the middle of the night? It must be 2:00!  I answer the phone.

 

“This is the Avondale Police Department.  There is a 4 year old Hispanic boy missing in your area. He is wearing a blue and white striped shirt”.  It is a recorded message. I hang up when the recording is complete. I look at the clock. It’s only 11:00, not 2:00 as I had assumed. Should I get up and go outside and look for a 4 year old boy?

 

The phone is ringing. Again. I guess I fell back asleep rather quickly.

 

“This is the Avondale Police Department.  We are calling to let you know that the missing boy has been found.  Thank you for your assistance.” Praise God!

 

Music. Lifehouse. It’s the CD Alarm clock.  I can’t believe it’s already time to get up. I swing out and sit on the edge of the bed for a moment.  Memories of last night start coming back to me.  I pick up the phone and look at the call log.  First call from Avondale Police, 11:00pm.  Second call, 12:28am.

 

I shave and shower.  I’m making my coffee now.  It’s 5:00.  I start thinking about my day.  It’s going to be very busy.  I am already frustrated. Our sales secretary (I’ll call her Sally) has been sick. I hope she’s back today. I grab my coffee, my computer, my lunch. I listen to Chuck Colsen on the way in. He has a 5 minute spot at 5:25 every weekday.  He’s telling about a 10 year old kid in India, sold into debt bondage by his mother to buy medicine for his brother.  His brother died, but the debt didn’t.  The kid sews soccer balls to try and repay the debt.  He even sews in the panel that says proudly “Made With Child Free Labor”. The interest is so high, he will have no opportunity to ever pay it back. I guess that panel should say “Made With Free Child Labor”.

 

I get to work.  Sally will not be in again today.  She calls me at 3:00.  Her doctor says she may have congestive heart failure and has ordered an EKG.  She starts to cry.  She is very scared.

 

I don’t know what to do.  People are losing their jobs.  People are losing their pensions. I’m actually okay, today I am leaving this all up to Jesus, today.  Some days I’m not so strong. The events of last night and today have shown me how small my problems are.

 

Today I determine I am going to have a conversation with Sally about Jesus. It’s against the rules, but I’m going to do it anyway. I couldn’t help the little lost boy.  I can’t help the little slave laborer in India.  But I can talk to Sally. I can tell her there is a God in heaven who loves her, and who wants to make a place for her in His Father’s house.  I can tell her about a God who loved her so much that He came down from heaven and died for sins she wasn’t even born yet to commit. I can tell her that He is the only Trustworthy One. I can do that much.