Grace ran straight into the darkness the other night. She defied her fear of a possum “attack” or the roving coyote or a child snatcher. She could not face the truth of some disobedience, so she ran from it. Ran straight down the road to my house.
“Nama,” she texts. “Wake up! I’m sneaking out. I’m coming to your house.”
It was 1 a.m.
No, you’re not! Get back to bed!
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“I’m walking down the drive.”
Get back in the house. Right now. I’m going to call your mother!
“No. I’m coming.”
Then her texts stop.
I call my daughter, but she does not answer. Because as she lay in bed after a stormy preteen evening, she sighed deep. “I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I think she just needs a hug.” So she gets up to give Grace a hug only to find a word-scrawled napkin on Grace’s bed. “I’ve gone to Nama’s.”
Abby wakes up Lee, and at the moment I call, they are already looking for Grace. Car lights turn into my drive as Abby returns my call.
I run downstairs in bare feet and nightgown, turn on lights in every room. No sign of Grace.
No sign of her in the garage, either.
“She’s not here,” I tell Abby.
Lee is now turning car to face the field, then pulls back out the drive.
But on a third look into the back of my now-locked car, I see Grace crouched behind the driver’s seat, face to the floor.
I go back inside, grab keys, smash garage opener, climb in car, and quickly back out with my still-hidden passenger.
It’s 53 degrees. I’m still barefoot and driving without glasses or contacts.
At Grace’s house, Lee is now driving back out of the field.
Grace gets out of the car. I roll down the window. “You might as well give me your iPod. I don’t think you’ll be needing it for awhile.”
Grace ran. Grace hid. But I’m pretty sure she knew we would not stop looking for her.
We run from truth. We hide from grace.
But grace never stops looking for us.
And it’s the truth that sets us free.
And love conquers darkness.
Grace had to confront the consequences of her choices. She stayed here last night. She’s grounded from all electronics for a week, Abby tells me. No iPod, phone, computer, Kindle. She can watch television–but only what her little sister or the rest of us want to watch.
So last night we watched Billy Graham’s My Hope America.
“You need to know this man,” I told her. “He speaks the truth. God loves you. No. Matter. What.”
Still overwhelmed by this truth and the faithfulness of one man,
“Many will react to this message, but it is the truth. And with all my heart, I want to leave you with the truth. He loves you.” ~Billy Graham
Linking with Lisa-Jo and the Five Minute Friday Community
on the word prompt, truth.
I think I ran over–again.
Jen Ferguson says
Twice in one week! You’re my neighbor at FMF and I’m so glad. I’ve missed coming into your space here. And this story had to be told just the way it was, without time limit, or we would have missed the fullness of the message. It makes me think, to be introspective — where am I running from Him? And this: Do I remember there is always grace?
Martha Orlando says
I’ll never forget taking my then 10-year-old son to a Billy Graham crusade in Atlanta. What an experience! He is a wonderful man of God and yes, he tells it like it is!
Great post, Sandy, as always.
I’m sorry for the growing pains. Bless her heart. I need to watch that message from Rev. Graham, I’m hearing good things about it (of course).
I’ve missed you. But now, my book is off to the editor so I hope to have more time for visiting. (she says confidently).
Love you. Can’t wait to see you soon.
Sylvia R says
Riveting! Oh, those awful adolescent dramas and fears. I’ve been there, too. (Prayers for you and yours.) But oh, the grace of God! A post for forever.
I saved this aside to read because I knew in my bones it was a necessary thing. My bones were right. Bless you.